Gedalif's school became home to hundreds of families fleeing the war in Khartoum. Photo credit: Ala Kheir
In 2018, Ala Khair asked her family to move from Khartoum to Cairo.
After settling them in an apartment in the Egyptian capital, he returned to Sudan with his camera to document the anti-government protests that were sweeping the country.
Even if someone is offended by his work, he will not easily harm his family because of it.
Those protests turned into a revolution.
Kiir recalls how hopeful Sudan was when dictator Omar al-Bashir fell in 2019 after three decades of dictatorial rule. Those hopes were dashed in 2021 when the Transitional Military Council overthrew the transitional civilian government.
Kjaer continued to take photos as citizens resisted what was seen as a fake coup. He was also working on a project close to his heart. Kiir's parents had immigrated to Khartoum from Darfur in the 1990s, and he wanted to reconnect with his Darfur roots.
“I was working on a series that told the story of Darfur 20 years after the conflict,” he says.
Every month, Kiir travels north for a few days to visit his wife, son and mother-in-law in Cairo, then returns home. His trip in March 2023 will be his last.
The following month, the rift between the two generals of the Transitional Military Council, Abdel Fattah al-Burhan and Mohamed Hamdan “Hemedi” Dagalo, escalated into an all-out civil war.
Mr. Kiir was in Khartoum when rival groups opened fire. Three weeks later he fled the city.
“People were being shot and killed on the streets in my neighborhood, right next to my apartment,” Kjaer said. “The city was shut down and there was no food, water or electricity. It was a very difficult time and I wanted to be close to my parents. So I went to visit them in Omdurman.”
Kiir left his camera behind, knowing there would be checkpoints along the way and that Sudanese soldiers would not be happy about being recorded.
It was at these checkpoints that Sudan realized the seriousness of what was to come. There he came face to face with some of the Rapid Support Force soldiers.
He said their eyes were “haunting” and “more horrifying than the bodies” he saw littering the streets. They looked like people used to murder. Men fight without a cause and without the need for a cause.
“These are the same forces that have killed thousands of Darfuri people, pillaged their communities and seized their land since the conflict began in 2003,” he says.
“Seeing them at the checkpoint made it clear that this war was not going to end soon.”
The United Nations refugee agency estimates that the war displaced 8 million people and killed more than 14,000 in its first year. Furthermore, with famine looming, nearly half of Sudan's population requires humanitarian assistance, yet only 6% of the funding for the domestic humanitarian response is raised.
The fighting group continues to block most routes for aid to arrive.
Kiir spent three months in Khartoum's twin city, Omdurman, before leaving to look for work in Wad Madani, Sudan's second largest city. It is the capital of Al-Jazira, an eastern province that straddles the Blue Nile and the White Nile.
He was assigned by an NGO to document the war using his friend's camera.
However, in November, he too started wanting to quit.
Travel between Egypt and Sudan had previously been visa-free, but shortly after the war began, authorities in Cairo introduced new visa rules and began refusing entry to many Sudanese.
It soon became clear that Kiir would not be reunited with his family in Cairo unless he paid a security fee of $2,000 to $3,000 to the Egyptian government.
Still, if you're lucky, you'll only be able to get a short-term visa for stays of one week to three months.
In theory, Sudanese had the option of a cost-free visa, but he and countless others were denied every time they applied. This month he received his sixth rejection.
“Sometimes you are denied entry on the spot, but sometimes you are asked to come back again after your application has been reviewed, and you are ultimately denied entry without any explanation,” says Keel. “The real reason Egypt is afraid of us coming is because there are already so many Sudanese in the country.”
The United Nations refugee agency says 300,000 Sudanese refugees have entered Egypt since April, and another 250,000 are waiting to join them. The agency this week asked for $175 million in aid to maintain aid to refugees.
Kiir eventually got a job in the United Arab Emirates, which allowed him to pay the rent on his Cairo apartment and support his parents and younger brother, who remain in Sudan.
He tries to video call his family as much as possible. His eldest son is 8 years old and his second son is 2 years old. He worries that he might miss out on their formative years.
“I help my oldest son with schoolwork and other things online to stay connected,” he says. But I don't know when I'll see them again.
Keel's story is not unique. As war rages on, Sudan's story depicts the loss of home, family, and life.
But Kiir and young revolutionaries like him have not given up hope. He dreams of returning home and returning to Khartoum to start anew.
“I loved exploring that city. Most of my personal photographs have been about my connection to it. My relationship with Khartoum has grown even deeper and will continue to be special to me.”
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