Part 1: The Calm Before the Inferno
Title: The Scent of an Approaching Nightmare: Life Before the Fall of Khartoum
I had been married for only two months when the world as I knew it exploded. At the time, I worked for a Chinese office furniture company in the heart of Khartoum. My Chinese colleagues, perhaps sensing a danger I chose to ignore, fled the country a month before the conflict began. But I was never one for politics; my mind was elsewhere—anchored in the simple joys of a newlywed life.
My existence was a rhythmic journey between the bustling capital and my peaceful hometown, Wad Madani. Every month, I would travel back to see my wife, savoring a week of tranquility before returning to the grind. During those days, I remember being constantly annoyed by the sharp, stinging scent of tear gas that often drifted through the streets during protests. To me, it was nothing more than a nuisance—a temporary obstacle to a busy workday. I dismissed the chants and the demonstrations, thinking: "It’s just a matter of days before they fall silent."
Eventually, the streets did go quiet. The chants faded, and the haze of tear gas vanished. I felt a sense of relief, never imagining that the silence was not peace, but the indrawn breath of a monster. I didn't know then that I wouldn't smell tear gas again; instead, I would soon be haunted by scents far more foul and terrifying.
On the 15th day of Ramadan, I left the warmth of my home in Wad Madani and headed back to Khartoum. My goal was simple: to work hard and save for the upcoming Eid celebrations. I worked tirelessly until that fateful, ill-omened day...
