On the morning of 15 April 2023, the sound of gunfire shattered the ordinary rhythms of life in Khartoum. Over the past three years, civilians have not simply been caught in the crossfire; they have been systematically targeted. Documentation by ACJPS paints a stark picture: airstrikes on residential neighborhoods, collapse of systems, attacks on internally displaced persons (IDP) camps, arbitrary arrests, enforced disappearances, and widespread sexual violence.
According to ACJPS reporting, civilians have been killed in indiscriminate aerial bombardments, while others have been detained without charge and later found dead, bearing signs of torture. Entire communities, particularly in Darfur, have been subjected to ethnically targeted violence, with homes burned and families executed. In some areas, survivors have reported mass graves as silent evidence of atrocities the world has yet to confront fully. ACJPS has documented the increasing targeting of human rights defenders, journalists, and civil society actors who work to expose abuses and demand accountability. Arrests, harassment, and communication shutdowns have been used to silence them. The message is clear: not only are civilians under attack, but so are those trying to tell their stories.
For women and girls, the war has unfolded on their bodies. ACJPS documentation highlights a surge in conflict-related sexual violence, including rape, gang rape, and sexual exploitation. These acts are not incidental; they are used deliberately to terrorize, punish, and displace communities. Survivors often remain without access to medical care, psychosocial support, or justice.
Children, too, have been drawn into the conflict, displaced, traumatized, and in some cases forcibly recruited into armed groups. What should have been a generation rebuilding Sudan is instead a generation struggling to survive it. And yet, even in the face of this devastation, Sudanese civilians are not passive victims. Across the country, local resistance committees, women-led groups, and grassroots networks have become lifelines. They organize food distribution, run makeshift clinics, evacuate the injured, and document violations often at great personal risk.
A volunteer medic working in a temporary clinic described treating the wounded by phone light during electricity blackouts. “We know some of them would live if we had proper equipment,” he said. “But we do what we can.” This is what survival looks like in Sudan today: communities holding themselves together as formal systems collapse. But survival should not be mistaken for resilience alone. It is also resistance.
Access to food, water, and healthcare has collapsed in many regions, pushing communities toward famine conditions. Yet despite the scale of suffering, international attention remains inconsistent, often overshadowed by other global crises. This is not just a failure of awareness; it is a failure of prioritization.
Sudan cannot be reduced to a headline or a statistic. At its core, this is a crisis of human dignity. And any meaningful response must begin by centering those most affected.
Victims and survivors must not be treated as afterthoughts in discussions about Sudan’s future. At the same time, humanitarian responses must shift toward supporting Sudanese-led initiatives.
On this anniversary, the world must decide whether it will continue to look away or finally begin to listen because Sudan is tired!