​April 15th 2023, marked the beginning of a war that should never have started—a war that has displaced millions, stolen lives, and upended generations. It’s a day I wish didn’t exist, but one we must remember—to honour those we’ve lost, to witness the suffering that continues, and to never let silence be our response to injustice.

In late February, I lost my grandmother. My faith gives me peace, knowing that this was her time—just as we have a day we are born, we also have a day we will pass. However, there is one thing I still struggle with, an injustice that fills me with so much anger—she was displaced.

​My grandmother lived a long, fulfilling life, and Khartoum was her home—a place she spent surrounded by family and friends. But she, an elderly woman, was forced to leave her home when the war broke out on April 15th, 2023. This meant that her final days were in a foreign country, and her final resting place is not in the country she called home.

​This, however, is not a unique story. It’s the reality for hundreds of thousands of families. I think of all the lives lost, whether as a direct result of violence or its inevitable consequences. How utterly senseless it all is—greedy men fighting over land and resources while civilian populations pay the price. These wars mean nothing to us—to the families whose identities are rooted in the land they call home

​The war has forced millions into starvation. With the suspension of USAID funding, which once covered nearly half of community kitchen costs, 8 million people are now at risk of famine. The crisis is worsened by the UN’s recognition of the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) as the governing body, despite widespread corruption and reports of both the SAF and Rapid Support Forces (RSF) using starvation as a weapon of war. Aid is being deliberately blocked, violating international law and worsening what is already one of the world’s worst humanitarian crises.

​Yet, in the face of this, people are still trying to help. These grassroots efforts, mostly funded by the Sudanese diaspora and local donations, are doing what they can to keep struggling families fed. But as the conflict drags on, these kitchens face increasing challenges in securing resources and desperately need support to continue their work.

​I’ve come to realise that as long as there are human beings, there will be war, and as long as there’s war, there will be victims. And as long as there are victims, there will always be opportunities to help.

​Campaign. Fight. Advocate. Donate. Don’t stop. It can be exhausting, relentless, and feel like you’re screaming into the void. But even the smallest difference matters. A change in one person’s perspective is a win. And those small wins can accumulate into something bigger—a movement where we care less about ourselves and more about the suffering of others.

​It’s easy to dehumanise people. The media do it every day, labelling migrants as threats and rallying to “protect our own.” But the truth is, there is no difference between us. We may be born in different countries, with different races, cultures, and beliefs, but we are all made of flesh, blood, and bones, with souls that matter. We must protect each other because one day, you might be the one who needs protecting. And imagine if everyone stayed silent then.