The Heroic Age in Sinnar
The Heroic Age in Sinnar
The Heroic Age in Sinnar, a summary by Dr Mohammed Abdullah Al-Hussein
Introduction:
The aim of this summary is to give a general idea of the contents of this important book. The Heroic Age in Sinnar is a book about the history of the Sultanate of Sinnar. The book was written by the American writer Jay Spaulding and translated by Ahmed al-Mutasim al-Sheikh and was published by the Khartoum Publishing Authority in 2010 as part of the "100 Books" series sponsored by the Ministry of Culture and Information in Khartoum, Sudan. The original version of the book was published in English in 1985. The book consists of three main sections titled ‘The King of the Nubian Muslims’, ‘The Principles of the Arabs’, and ‘To the Fire’, which are in turn divided into subsections.
Part One: ‘The King of the Nubian Muslims’
This part includes a background on the structure of power and society in the Sultanate, dealing with topics related to the Sultan, the court, and the ceremonial events at court. It also covers the origin of the Funj, their system of succession, the method of selecting the sultan, the sultan's relationship with the nobles and the system of distributing land among the nobles to ensure their loyalty. This part also highlights the administrative system and the powers of both the centre and the provinces. Finally, this part deals with the Sultanate’s subjects as the lowest in the hierarchy and their relationship with the nobles, who exercise direct authority over them on behalf of the centre with regards to taxes and services provided by the subjects to the nobles.
Part Two: ‘The Principles of the Arabs’
This part explains the opening up of the Funj state to foreign cultures in the north and east through trade relations, highlighting how this was a catalyst for cultural influence and exposure to Arab principles. In summary, the author discusses the beginning of the introduction of capitalism to the state’s institutions and its transactions, explaining that this occurred through the adoption of Islamic principles in financial transactions, the emergence of clerics as a middle class, and the rise of urban and religious centres, as the face of the new economic development adopted by the Sultanate. It refers to the emergence of the clerics as a class with mutual economic and political ties and interests with the authority. These included land grants, exemptions from taxes, and access to judicial powers.
This section also talks about those Spaulding called the warlords who were most likely, as the author points out, provincial rulers who had had the opportunity to acquire wealth and needed to protect it and had therefore formed their own armed slave units. The period also saw the beginnings of the transition into a patriarchal system and the creation of genealogies for the purpose of rising up the social ladder. This part of the book deals with the control of the Hamaj in 1762 as the beginning of the disintegration of the old order of the Funj state and the transition to a new order dominated by the middle class. The Hamaj relied heavily on the clergy who were assimilated into the middle class and appointed to gather taxes with prominent clerics being included in the Sultan's court. Finally, this part talks about the emergence of the network of trading companies following the Turkish invasion which aimed to control the market, trade and investment of all kinds.
By way of conclusion to this section, the author talks about how the Turks, after their invasion of Sudan, introduced the Jihadiyya system into the army meaning the new Turkish army was made up of slaves. During this period, northern merchants began to venture to the southern regions of Sinnar, occupying the vacuum created by the withdrawal of the Turks in search of gold. They were encouraged in their quest by the Turks, who had failed to obtain the large quantities of gold they expected. The migration of citizens from the north increased after the Turks introduced new methods of production in the irrigated areas of the north. The migration of northern merchants (Jalaba) to the south grew in response to the Turkish government providing protection for northern merchants, establishing sharia courts as well as a market for slaves and goods from southern Sinnar. The final part deals with the penetration of northern Jalaba into the south as well as in the south-eastern regions of Sinnar.
Part Three: ‘To the Fire’
The final section of the book deals with the era of the Hamaj, which the author describes as a bloody and highly complex period characterised by power struggles. It also deals with the biography of Abu Likaylik, providing insight into his character and the way in which he held the reins of power for the benefit of the Hamaj which produced profound changes in the structure of the state, particularly through his reliance on the clergy against the nobility. During the period following the death of Abu Likaylik, the coup leader, and Adlan, power began to disintegrate with the provinces turning against the centre. From 1803 to 1809, the power of the Hamaj began to disintegrate through power struggles, and real control came into the hands of the commanders of the slave cavalries. This section is filled with details of rebellions instigated by those seeking centralised power and of tribal conflicts during the final years of the eighteenth century and the commencement of the nineteenth century. It further details the tendency of the regions and tribes to become independent from the central authority until the Turks invaded the country.
A brief background to the book
The Heroic Age in Sinnar is one of the few books that deals with the history of the Funj in a comprehensive and in-depth manner. It is clear the author made a great effort to collect material from multiple and varied sources, mainly from the writings of foreign travellers or administrators as well as from local sources such as the manuscript of Katib al-Shuna and the book of Tabaqat Wad Dhaifallah. The content of the book is, therefore, rich in information. In addition, there are numerous angles of analysis which makes many of the conclusions the author reaches thought-provoking and to an extent, perhaps controversial. In my opinion, The Heroic Age in Sinnar is an indispensable book for any student, reader or follower of the history of the state of Sinnar.
I must point out that the book's rich and varied information has somewhat affected the organisation of the book, as the main headings sometimes do not accurately indicate the content of the information that falls under it, so the reader (especially the hurried or non-specialist) may find it difficult to follow and link events to each other.
The author did not consider Sinnari rule as a single period of time, as many of his predecessors did, but as two distinct eras: the Funj and the Hamaj. This distinction helped in recognising the characteristics of each phase and understanding the dynamics and circumstances that influenced each of them.
In his analysis, the author adopted an economic approach, to reveal the penetration of capitalism and the bourgeois nature of governance and administration, particularly in the second phase of the Sinnari State. These, he argues, were the factors that impacted various aspects of life under Hamaj rule, and indirectly led to the weakening of their grip on power.
The cover picture is the ruined palace of Sennar at the time of the Turkish conquest (1821). Voyage à Meroé by Frédéric Cailliaud © LeGabrie
The Heroic Age in Sinnar, a summary by Dr Mohammed Abdullah Al-Hussein
Introduction:
The aim of this summary is to give a general idea of the contents of this important book. The Heroic Age in Sinnar is a book about the history of the Sultanate of Sinnar. The book was written by the American writer Jay Spaulding and translated by Ahmed al-Mutasim al-Sheikh and was published by the Khartoum Publishing Authority in 2010 as part of the "100 Books" series sponsored by the Ministry of Culture and Information in Khartoum, Sudan. The original version of the book was published in English in 1985. The book consists of three main sections titled ‘The King of the Nubian Muslims’, ‘The Principles of the Arabs’, and ‘To the Fire’, which are in turn divided into subsections.
Part One: ‘The King of the Nubian Muslims’
This part includes a background on the structure of power and society in the Sultanate, dealing with topics related to the Sultan, the court, and the ceremonial events at court. It also covers the origin of the Funj, their system of succession, the method of selecting the sultan, the sultan's relationship with the nobles and the system of distributing land among the nobles to ensure their loyalty. This part also highlights the administrative system and the powers of both the centre and the provinces. Finally, this part deals with the Sultanate’s subjects as the lowest in the hierarchy and their relationship with the nobles, who exercise direct authority over them on behalf of the centre with regards to taxes and services provided by the subjects to the nobles.
Part Two: ‘The Principles of the Arabs’
This part explains the opening up of the Funj state to foreign cultures in the north and east through trade relations, highlighting how this was a catalyst for cultural influence and exposure to Arab principles. In summary, the author discusses the beginning of the introduction of capitalism to the state’s institutions and its transactions, explaining that this occurred through the adoption of Islamic principles in financial transactions, the emergence of clerics as a middle class, and the rise of urban and religious centres, as the face of the new economic development adopted by the Sultanate. It refers to the emergence of the clerics as a class with mutual economic and political ties and interests with the authority. These included land grants, exemptions from taxes, and access to judicial powers.
This section also talks about those Spaulding called the warlords who were most likely, as the author points out, provincial rulers who had had the opportunity to acquire wealth and needed to protect it and had therefore formed their own armed slave units. The period also saw the beginnings of the transition into a patriarchal system and the creation of genealogies for the purpose of rising up the social ladder. This part of the book deals with the control of the Hamaj in 1762 as the beginning of the disintegration of the old order of the Funj state and the transition to a new order dominated by the middle class. The Hamaj relied heavily on the clergy who were assimilated into the middle class and appointed to gather taxes with prominent clerics being included in the Sultan's court. Finally, this part talks about the emergence of the network of trading companies following the Turkish invasion which aimed to control the market, trade and investment of all kinds.
By way of conclusion to this section, the author talks about how the Turks, after their invasion of Sudan, introduced the Jihadiyya system into the army meaning the new Turkish army was made up of slaves. During this period, northern merchants began to venture to the southern regions of Sinnar, occupying the vacuum created by the withdrawal of the Turks in search of gold. They were encouraged in their quest by the Turks, who had failed to obtain the large quantities of gold they expected. The migration of citizens from the north increased after the Turks introduced new methods of production in the irrigated areas of the north. The migration of northern merchants (Jalaba) to the south grew in response to the Turkish government providing protection for northern merchants, establishing sharia courts as well as a market for slaves and goods from southern Sinnar. The final part deals with the penetration of northern Jalaba into the south as well as in the south-eastern regions of Sinnar.
Part Three: ‘To the Fire’
The final section of the book deals with the era of the Hamaj, which the author describes as a bloody and highly complex period characterised by power struggles. It also deals with the biography of Abu Likaylik, providing insight into his character and the way in which he held the reins of power for the benefit of the Hamaj which produced profound changes in the structure of the state, particularly through his reliance on the clergy against the nobility. During the period following the death of Abu Likaylik, the coup leader, and Adlan, power began to disintegrate with the provinces turning against the centre. From 1803 to 1809, the power of the Hamaj began to disintegrate through power struggles, and real control came into the hands of the commanders of the slave cavalries. This section is filled with details of rebellions instigated by those seeking centralised power and of tribal conflicts during the final years of the eighteenth century and the commencement of the nineteenth century. It further details the tendency of the regions and tribes to become independent from the central authority until the Turks invaded the country.
A brief background to the book
The Heroic Age in Sinnar is one of the few books that deals with the history of the Funj in a comprehensive and in-depth manner. It is clear the author made a great effort to collect material from multiple and varied sources, mainly from the writings of foreign travellers or administrators as well as from local sources such as the manuscript of Katib al-Shuna and the book of Tabaqat Wad Dhaifallah. The content of the book is, therefore, rich in information. In addition, there are numerous angles of analysis which makes many of the conclusions the author reaches thought-provoking and to an extent, perhaps controversial. In my opinion, The Heroic Age in Sinnar is an indispensable book for any student, reader or follower of the history of the state of Sinnar.
I must point out that the book's rich and varied information has somewhat affected the organisation of the book, as the main headings sometimes do not accurately indicate the content of the information that falls under it, so the reader (especially the hurried or non-specialist) may find it difficult to follow and link events to each other.
The author did not consider Sinnari rule as a single period of time, as many of his predecessors did, but as two distinct eras: the Funj and the Hamaj. This distinction helped in recognising the characteristics of each phase and understanding the dynamics and circumstances that influenced each of them.
In his analysis, the author adopted an economic approach, to reveal the penetration of capitalism and the bourgeois nature of governance and administration, particularly in the second phase of the Sinnari State. These, he argues, were the factors that impacted various aspects of life under Hamaj rule, and indirectly led to the weakening of their grip on power.
The cover picture is the ruined palace of Sennar at the time of the Turkish conquest (1821). Voyage à Meroé by Frédéric Cailliaud © LeGabrie
The Heroic Age in Sinnar, a summary by Dr Mohammed Abdullah Al-Hussein
Introduction:
The aim of this summary is to give a general idea of the contents of this important book. The Heroic Age in Sinnar is a book about the history of the Sultanate of Sinnar. The book was written by the American writer Jay Spaulding and translated by Ahmed al-Mutasim al-Sheikh and was published by the Khartoum Publishing Authority in 2010 as part of the "100 Books" series sponsored by the Ministry of Culture and Information in Khartoum, Sudan. The original version of the book was published in English in 1985. The book consists of three main sections titled ‘The King of the Nubian Muslims’, ‘The Principles of the Arabs’, and ‘To the Fire’, which are in turn divided into subsections.
Part One: ‘The King of the Nubian Muslims’
This part includes a background on the structure of power and society in the Sultanate, dealing with topics related to the Sultan, the court, and the ceremonial events at court. It also covers the origin of the Funj, their system of succession, the method of selecting the sultan, the sultan's relationship with the nobles and the system of distributing land among the nobles to ensure their loyalty. This part also highlights the administrative system and the powers of both the centre and the provinces. Finally, this part deals with the Sultanate’s subjects as the lowest in the hierarchy and their relationship with the nobles, who exercise direct authority over them on behalf of the centre with regards to taxes and services provided by the subjects to the nobles.
Part Two: ‘The Principles of the Arabs’
This part explains the opening up of the Funj state to foreign cultures in the north and east through trade relations, highlighting how this was a catalyst for cultural influence and exposure to Arab principles. In summary, the author discusses the beginning of the introduction of capitalism to the state’s institutions and its transactions, explaining that this occurred through the adoption of Islamic principles in financial transactions, the emergence of clerics as a middle class, and the rise of urban and religious centres, as the face of the new economic development adopted by the Sultanate. It refers to the emergence of the clerics as a class with mutual economic and political ties and interests with the authority. These included land grants, exemptions from taxes, and access to judicial powers.
This section also talks about those Spaulding called the warlords who were most likely, as the author points out, provincial rulers who had had the opportunity to acquire wealth and needed to protect it and had therefore formed their own armed slave units. The period also saw the beginnings of the transition into a patriarchal system and the creation of genealogies for the purpose of rising up the social ladder. This part of the book deals with the control of the Hamaj in 1762 as the beginning of the disintegration of the old order of the Funj state and the transition to a new order dominated by the middle class. The Hamaj relied heavily on the clergy who were assimilated into the middle class and appointed to gather taxes with prominent clerics being included in the Sultan's court. Finally, this part talks about the emergence of the network of trading companies following the Turkish invasion which aimed to control the market, trade and investment of all kinds.
By way of conclusion to this section, the author talks about how the Turks, after their invasion of Sudan, introduced the Jihadiyya system into the army meaning the new Turkish army was made up of slaves. During this period, northern merchants began to venture to the southern regions of Sinnar, occupying the vacuum created by the withdrawal of the Turks in search of gold. They were encouraged in their quest by the Turks, who had failed to obtain the large quantities of gold they expected. The migration of citizens from the north increased after the Turks introduced new methods of production in the irrigated areas of the north. The migration of northern merchants (Jalaba) to the south grew in response to the Turkish government providing protection for northern merchants, establishing sharia courts as well as a market for slaves and goods from southern Sinnar. The final part deals with the penetration of northern Jalaba into the south as well as in the south-eastern regions of Sinnar.
Part Three: ‘To the Fire’
The final section of the book deals with the era of the Hamaj, which the author describes as a bloody and highly complex period characterised by power struggles. It also deals with the biography of Abu Likaylik, providing insight into his character and the way in which he held the reins of power for the benefit of the Hamaj which produced profound changes in the structure of the state, particularly through his reliance on the clergy against the nobility. During the period following the death of Abu Likaylik, the coup leader, and Adlan, power began to disintegrate with the provinces turning against the centre. From 1803 to 1809, the power of the Hamaj began to disintegrate through power struggles, and real control came into the hands of the commanders of the slave cavalries. This section is filled with details of rebellions instigated by those seeking centralised power and of tribal conflicts during the final years of the eighteenth century and the commencement of the nineteenth century. It further details the tendency of the regions and tribes to become independent from the central authority until the Turks invaded the country.
A brief background to the book
The Heroic Age in Sinnar is one of the few books that deals with the history of the Funj in a comprehensive and in-depth manner. It is clear the author made a great effort to collect material from multiple and varied sources, mainly from the writings of foreign travellers or administrators as well as from local sources such as the manuscript of Katib al-Shuna and the book of Tabaqat Wad Dhaifallah. The content of the book is, therefore, rich in information. In addition, there are numerous angles of analysis which makes many of the conclusions the author reaches thought-provoking and to an extent, perhaps controversial. In my opinion, The Heroic Age in Sinnar is an indispensable book for any student, reader or follower of the history of the state of Sinnar.
I must point out that the book's rich and varied information has somewhat affected the organisation of the book, as the main headings sometimes do not accurately indicate the content of the information that falls under it, so the reader (especially the hurried or non-specialist) may find it difficult to follow and link events to each other.
The author did not consider Sinnari rule as a single period of time, as many of his predecessors did, but as two distinct eras: the Funj and the Hamaj. This distinction helped in recognising the characteristics of each phase and understanding the dynamics and circumstances that influenced each of them.
In his analysis, the author adopted an economic approach, to reveal the penetration of capitalism and the bourgeois nature of governance and administration, particularly in the second phase of the Sinnari State. These, he argues, were the factors that impacted various aspects of life under Hamaj rule, and indirectly led to the weakening of their grip on power.
The cover picture is the ruined palace of Sennar at the time of the Turkish conquest (1821). Voyage à Meroé by Frédéric Cailliaud © LeGabrie
Cities on canvas
Cities on canvas
Sidahmed Mohamed Al-Hassan
A Sudanese visual artist, he studied engineering and left it to study arts, where he obtained a Bachelor’s degree with distinction in drawing and painting from the College of Arts, and won the award for the best graduation project in the College of Arts in 2016.
He published a scientific paper in the Human Sciences Journal of Sudan University, and he worked as a teaching assistant in the College of Art Education in 2017. In his work, he is interested in the transformations that society is experiencing and expressing them in new visual ways. He has won a number of awards and grants, and his works have been exhibited in Sudan, Egypt, and Tunisia. He is also currently participating in the 2024 Venice Biennale.
Said Ahmed's work can be found on the following pages:
Instagram: saidahmed_artist
Facebook page: Said Ahmed
YouTube channel: Said Ahmed
Khalid Abdel Rahman
Khalid Abdulrahman is a self-taught artist, he was born in Khartoum, Sudan, in 1978, where he lived his entire life, except for short travels. After the war broke out in Sudan in April 2023 he decided to move to Cairo, Egypt to continue pursuing his career.
Khalid prefers using traditional mediums of drawing and painting to express his artistic ideas. His work explores his relationship with the spaces he lived in, through landscapes, urban scapes, and architectural details.
He participated in several group exhibitions in Khartoum, Kampala, Cairo, Nairobi, Cape Town, and other cities, he also held six solo exhibitions in Khartoum, New Orleans, and Nairobi.
Khalid Abdulrahman's work can be found on the following pages:
Instagram: khalid_rahman_art
Artsy: Khalid Abdel Rahman
Griselda El Tayib
Born in London in 1925, Griselda El Tayib came to Sudan in 1951 and was involved in setting up the curriculum for teaching art at Sudanese girls’ schools where she also taught the subject. Griselda’s art is mostly representational using watercolours. Her work has been exhibited in Sudan, Nigeria, Morocco, Britain, America, and most recently at the Sharjah Art Foundation’s 2016 comprehensive exhibition of Pioneers of Sudanese Art. Griselda died in Khartoum in 2022.
Information about the late Griselda El Tayib can be found on the Sudan Memory website
Mustafa Muiz
Mustafa was born in Omdurman in 1968. He graduated from the College of Fine and Applied Art in 1995 specializing in graphic design. Mustafa’s scenes of Khartoum are often stylised in pen and black ink and occasionally in watercolour or acrylic paints. He has exhibited in Nigeria, the UAE, and Sudan. Mustafa taught at the Khartoum College of Applied Sciences and the Comboni Secondary School.
Mohammed Ibrahim (Wd Eljack)
Wd Eljack was born in Atbara, White Nile State in 1967. He attended the Sudan University for Sciences and Technology graduating in 1994 with a degree in printing and binding. He teaches art at college level and is a freelance designer. Wd Eljack’s main medium is pastel but he also uses acrylic and oil paints. His art has been exhibited around Sudan and in the UAE and China. Wd ElJack is a member of the Terab Comedy Group.
Salih Abdel Rahman
Born in Bahri, Khartoum North in 1987, Salih was educated in Jabayt in eastern Sudan before joining the Sudan University of Sciences and Technology’s Faculty of Education from where he graduated specializing in painting and calligraphy. His scenes of the city in watercolour, coffee, and charcoal are mostly realistic and have been exhibited in Sudan and abroad.
Salih Abdel Rahman's work can be found on the following page:
Facebook page: Salih Abdo
Cover painting: Khartoum Grand Mosque Maidan Abu Jinzir, published in a calendar © Griselda El Tayib
Sidahmed Mohamed Al-Hassan
A Sudanese visual artist, he studied engineering and left it to study arts, where he obtained a Bachelor’s degree with distinction in drawing and painting from the College of Arts, and won the award for the best graduation project in the College of Arts in 2016.
He published a scientific paper in the Human Sciences Journal of Sudan University, and he worked as a teaching assistant in the College of Art Education in 2017. In his work, he is interested in the transformations that society is experiencing and expressing them in new visual ways. He has won a number of awards and grants, and his works have been exhibited in Sudan, Egypt, and Tunisia. He is also currently participating in the 2024 Venice Biennale.
Said Ahmed's work can be found on the following pages:
Instagram: saidahmed_artist
Facebook page: Said Ahmed
YouTube channel: Said Ahmed
Khalid Abdel Rahman
Khalid Abdulrahman is a self-taught artist, he was born in Khartoum, Sudan, in 1978, where he lived his entire life, except for short travels. After the war broke out in Sudan in April 2023 he decided to move to Cairo, Egypt to continue pursuing his career.
Khalid prefers using traditional mediums of drawing and painting to express his artistic ideas. His work explores his relationship with the spaces he lived in, through landscapes, urban scapes, and architectural details.
He participated in several group exhibitions in Khartoum, Kampala, Cairo, Nairobi, Cape Town, and other cities, he also held six solo exhibitions in Khartoum, New Orleans, and Nairobi.
Khalid Abdulrahman's work can be found on the following pages:
Instagram: khalid_rahman_art
Artsy: Khalid Abdel Rahman
Griselda El Tayib
Born in London in 1925, Griselda El Tayib came to Sudan in 1951 and was involved in setting up the curriculum for teaching art at Sudanese girls’ schools where she also taught the subject. Griselda’s art is mostly representational using watercolours. Her work has been exhibited in Sudan, Nigeria, Morocco, Britain, America, and most recently at the Sharjah Art Foundation’s 2016 comprehensive exhibition of Pioneers of Sudanese Art. Griselda died in Khartoum in 2022.
Information about the late Griselda El Tayib can be found on the Sudan Memory website
Mustafa Muiz
Mustafa was born in Omdurman in 1968. He graduated from the College of Fine and Applied Art in 1995 specializing in graphic design. Mustafa’s scenes of Khartoum are often stylised in pen and black ink and occasionally in watercolour or acrylic paints. He has exhibited in Nigeria, the UAE, and Sudan. Mustafa taught at the Khartoum College of Applied Sciences and the Comboni Secondary School.
Mohammed Ibrahim (Wd Eljack)
Wd Eljack was born in Atbara, White Nile State in 1967. He attended the Sudan University for Sciences and Technology graduating in 1994 with a degree in printing and binding. He teaches art at college level and is a freelance designer. Wd Eljack’s main medium is pastel but he also uses acrylic and oil paints. His art has been exhibited around Sudan and in the UAE and China. Wd ElJack is a member of the Terab Comedy Group.
Salih Abdel Rahman
Born in Bahri, Khartoum North in 1987, Salih was educated in Jabayt in eastern Sudan before joining the Sudan University of Sciences and Technology’s Faculty of Education from where he graduated specializing in painting and calligraphy. His scenes of the city in watercolour, coffee, and charcoal are mostly realistic and have been exhibited in Sudan and abroad.
Salih Abdel Rahman's work can be found on the following page:
Facebook page: Salih Abdo
Cover painting: Khartoum Grand Mosque Maidan Abu Jinzir, published in a calendar © Griselda El Tayib
Sidahmed Mohamed Al-Hassan
A Sudanese visual artist, he studied engineering and left it to study arts, where he obtained a Bachelor’s degree with distinction in drawing and painting from the College of Arts, and won the award for the best graduation project in the College of Arts in 2016.
He published a scientific paper in the Human Sciences Journal of Sudan University, and he worked as a teaching assistant in the College of Art Education in 2017. In his work, he is interested in the transformations that society is experiencing and expressing them in new visual ways. He has won a number of awards and grants, and his works have been exhibited in Sudan, Egypt, and Tunisia. He is also currently participating in the 2024 Venice Biennale.
Said Ahmed's work can be found on the following pages:
Instagram: saidahmed_artist
Facebook page: Said Ahmed
YouTube channel: Said Ahmed
Khalid Abdel Rahman
Khalid Abdulrahman is a self-taught artist, he was born in Khartoum, Sudan, in 1978, where he lived his entire life, except for short travels. After the war broke out in Sudan in April 2023 he decided to move to Cairo, Egypt to continue pursuing his career.
Khalid prefers using traditional mediums of drawing and painting to express his artistic ideas. His work explores his relationship with the spaces he lived in, through landscapes, urban scapes, and architectural details.
He participated in several group exhibitions in Khartoum, Kampala, Cairo, Nairobi, Cape Town, and other cities, he also held six solo exhibitions in Khartoum, New Orleans, and Nairobi.
Khalid Abdulrahman's work can be found on the following pages:
Instagram: khalid_rahman_art
Artsy: Khalid Abdel Rahman
Griselda El Tayib
Born in London in 1925, Griselda El Tayib came to Sudan in 1951 and was involved in setting up the curriculum for teaching art at Sudanese girls’ schools where she also taught the subject. Griselda’s art is mostly representational using watercolours. Her work has been exhibited in Sudan, Nigeria, Morocco, Britain, America, and most recently at the Sharjah Art Foundation’s 2016 comprehensive exhibition of Pioneers of Sudanese Art. Griselda died in Khartoum in 2022.
Information about the late Griselda El Tayib can be found on the Sudan Memory website
Mustafa Muiz
Mustafa was born in Omdurman in 1968. He graduated from the College of Fine and Applied Art in 1995 specializing in graphic design. Mustafa’s scenes of Khartoum are often stylised in pen and black ink and occasionally in watercolour or acrylic paints. He has exhibited in Nigeria, the UAE, and Sudan. Mustafa taught at the Khartoum College of Applied Sciences and the Comboni Secondary School.
Mohammed Ibrahim (Wd Eljack)
Wd Eljack was born in Atbara, White Nile State in 1967. He attended the Sudan University for Sciences and Technology graduating in 1994 with a degree in printing and binding. He teaches art at college level and is a freelance designer. Wd Eljack’s main medium is pastel but he also uses acrylic and oil paints. His art has been exhibited around Sudan and in the UAE and China. Wd ElJack is a member of the Terab Comedy Group.
Salih Abdel Rahman
Born in Bahri, Khartoum North in 1987, Salih was educated in Jabayt in eastern Sudan before joining the Sudan University of Sciences and Technology’s Faculty of Education from where he graduated specializing in painting and calligraphy. His scenes of the city in watercolour, coffee, and charcoal are mostly realistic and have been exhibited in Sudan and abroad.
Salih Abdel Rahman's work can be found on the following page:
Facebook page: Salih Abdo
Cover painting: Khartoum Grand Mosque Maidan Abu Jinzir, published in a calendar © Griselda El Tayib
A city playlist
A city playlist
Creating a playlist that features songs about different cities from the Sudanese music scene is a wonderful way to explore the country's rich cultural tapestry through its music. Sudanese music is deeply rooted in the country's diverse cultural heritage, and many artists draw inspiration from various cities, each with its own unique stories and rhythms.
Sudanese music is characterized by its rich diversity, blending traditional African rhythms, Arabic melodies, and modern influences. The country's varied geography and history are often reflected in its music, with each region contributing distinct sounds and styles.
This playlist not only showcases the musical talents of Sudanese artists but also serves as a cultural journey through the country's cities, each with its unique story and ambiance. Whether you're a longtime fan of Sudanese music or a newcomer, this playlist offers a deep and melodic exploration of Sudan's urban landscapes.
Feel free to add more songs or artists that capture the spirit of different cities in Sudan, as the music scene is always evolving and offering new gems.
Cover image © Mohammed Ibrahim (Wd Eljack)
Creating a playlist that features songs about different cities from the Sudanese music scene is a wonderful way to explore the country's rich cultural tapestry through its music. Sudanese music is deeply rooted in the country's diverse cultural heritage, and many artists draw inspiration from various cities, each with its own unique stories and rhythms.
Sudanese music is characterized by its rich diversity, blending traditional African rhythms, Arabic melodies, and modern influences. The country's varied geography and history are often reflected in its music, with each region contributing distinct sounds and styles.
This playlist not only showcases the musical talents of Sudanese artists but also serves as a cultural journey through the country's cities, each with its unique story and ambiance. Whether you're a longtime fan of Sudanese music or a newcomer, this playlist offers a deep and melodic exploration of Sudan's urban landscapes.
Feel free to add more songs or artists that capture the spirit of different cities in Sudan, as the music scene is always evolving and offering new gems.
Cover image © Mohammed Ibrahim (Wd Eljack)
Creating a playlist that features songs about different cities from the Sudanese music scene is a wonderful way to explore the country's rich cultural tapestry through its music. Sudanese music is deeply rooted in the country's diverse cultural heritage, and many artists draw inspiration from various cities, each with its own unique stories and rhythms.
Sudanese music is characterized by its rich diversity, blending traditional African rhythms, Arabic melodies, and modern influences. The country's varied geography and history are often reflected in its music, with each region contributing distinct sounds and styles.
This playlist not only showcases the musical talents of Sudanese artists but also serves as a cultural journey through the country's cities, each with its unique story and ambiance. Whether you're a longtime fan of Sudanese music or a newcomer, this playlist offers a deep and melodic exploration of Sudan's urban landscapes.
Feel free to add more songs or artists that capture the spirit of different cities in Sudan, as the music scene is always evolving and offering new gems.
Cover image © Mohammed Ibrahim (Wd Eljack)
The book of Khartoum
The book of Khartoum
The History of Khartoum, written by historian Dr Mohamed Ibrahim Abu Salim, was published in 1979 and is considered one of the most important modern references on the urban planning history of Greater Khartoum to this day. Dr Abu Salim joined the Sudan Archive Service which, at the time, was a small department specialised in preserving documents at the Ministry of Interior. He then developed the department into what became the National Records Office. Abu Salim received his PhD in Philosophy of History from the University of Khartoum in 1966. His name and career are associated with the development of documentation and historiography in Sudan.
In his introduction, Dr Abu Salim mentions that the bulk of the “Book of Khartoum" was gathered from a collection of articles published in the Khartoum Magazine, which was published by the Ministry of National Guidance in Sudan at the time. Dr Abu Salim relied on many sources including Sudan’s National Records Office, the University of Khartoum Library, the Egyptian Book House and the Arab National Archives in Cairo.
The Khartoum Magazine did not only focus on the city of Khartoum, but dealt with a variety of topics and included articles, stories, anecdotes and poems from all of Sudan’s cities. Articles in the magazine included ‘The New Khartoum’ and ‘The Extensions of Khartoum’ written by Dr Abu Salim, as well as other articles by other experts and writers. The articles were not limited to a historical description or account of the cities, but also touched on issues related to the processes of urbanisation and city planning that were taking place in the city at that time.
The following is an excerpt from the article ‘The Extensions of Khartoum’ in which Dr Abu Salim comments on the damage caused by the increase in land distribution to low-income citizens:
‘As this article appears at a time when the state is distributing land to low-income people, we should point out that housing is an important aspect of human life, especially in a country where almost everyone has a house to live in; whether it is made of straw, leather or mud, a house is a necessary factor for stability and mental well-being. However, there are problems behind increased land distribution, perhaps the most important of which is that the distribution creates a class of owners, especially now that the general trend is to own property for rent and benefit financially from it, and this actually means that many of the savings of cities will be converted into houses that may not find anyone to rent them. In addition to that, many people who do not have the financial means to build, will receive plots of land, and will have to borrow funds, whether they are civil servants or any others. This will in turn mean that this class of already burdened citizens will be in more debt and I also fear that over time increases in construction costs and materials, will become a burden on the poor.
In order to prevent or minimise these risks, the state should not insist that the construction be done within a specific time, but rather allow for longer timeframes so that the poor can build little by little and limit the rise in prices and costs. It should also provide building materials, especially local materials, and make them accessible to the poor.’
Khartoum Magazine, issue No. 6, March 1967, (p. 76)
The History of Khartoum, written by historian Dr Mohamed Ibrahim Abu Salim, was published in 1979 and is considered one of the most important modern references on the urban planning history of Greater Khartoum to this day. Dr Abu Salim joined the Sudan Archive Service which, at the time, was a small department specialised in preserving documents at the Ministry of Interior. He then developed the department into what became the National Records Office. Abu Salim received his PhD in Philosophy of History from the University of Khartoum in 1966. His name and career are associated with the development of documentation and historiography in Sudan.
In his introduction, Dr Abu Salim mentions that the bulk of the “Book of Khartoum" was gathered from a collection of articles published in the Khartoum Magazine, which was published by the Ministry of National Guidance in Sudan at the time. Dr Abu Salim relied on many sources including Sudan’s National Records Office, the University of Khartoum Library, the Egyptian Book House and the Arab National Archives in Cairo.
The Khartoum Magazine did not only focus on the city of Khartoum, but dealt with a variety of topics and included articles, stories, anecdotes and poems from all of Sudan’s cities. Articles in the magazine included ‘The New Khartoum’ and ‘The Extensions of Khartoum’ written by Dr Abu Salim, as well as other articles by other experts and writers. The articles were not limited to a historical description or account of the cities, but also touched on issues related to the processes of urbanisation and city planning that were taking place in the city at that time.
The following is an excerpt from the article ‘The Extensions of Khartoum’ in which Dr Abu Salim comments on the damage caused by the increase in land distribution to low-income citizens:
‘As this article appears at a time when the state is distributing land to low-income people, we should point out that housing is an important aspect of human life, especially in a country where almost everyone has a house to live in; whether it is made of straw, leather or mud, a house is a necessary factor for stability and mental well-being. However, there are problems behind increased land distribution, perhaps the most important of which is that the distribution creates a class of owners, especially now that the general trend is to own property for rent and benefit financially from it, and this actually means that many of the savings of cities will be converted into houses that may not find anyone to rent them. In addition to that, many people who do not have the financial means to build, will receive plots of land, and will have to borrow funds, whether they are civil servants or any others. This will in turn mean that this class of already burdened citizens will be in more debt and I also fear that over time increases in construction costs and materials, will become a burden on the poor.
In order to prevent or minimise these risks, the state should not insist that the construction be done within a specific time, but rather allow for longer timeframes so that the poor can build little by little and limit the rise in prices and costs. It should also provide building materials, especially local materials, and make them accessible to the poor.’
Khartoum Magazine, issue No. 6, March 1967, (p. 76)
The History of Khartoum, written by historian Dr Mohamed Ibrahim Abu Salim, was published in 1979 and is considered one of the most important modern references on the urban planning history of Greater Khartoum to this day. Dr Abu Salim joined the Sudan Archive Service which, at the time, was a small department specialised in preserving documents at the Ministry of Interior. He then developed the department into what became the National Records Office. Abu Salim received his PhD in Philosophy of History from the University of Khartoum in 1966. His name and career are associated with the development of documentation and historiography in Sudan.
In his introduction, Dr Abu Salim mentions that the bulk of the “Book of Khartoum" was gathered from a collection of articles published in the Khartoum Magazine, which was published by the Ministry of National Guidance in Sudan at the time. Dr Abu Salim relied on many sources including Sudan’s National Records Office, the University of Khartoum Library, the Egyptian Book House and the Arab National Archives in Cairo.
The Khartoum Magazine did not only focus on the city of Khartoum, but dealt with a variety of topics and included articles, stories, anecdotes and poems from all of Sudan’s cities. Articles in the magazine included ‘The New Khartoum’ and ‘The Extensions of Khartoum’ written by Dr Abu Salim, as well as other articles by other experts and writers. The articles were not limited to a historical description or account of the cities, but also touched on issues related to the processes of urbanisation and city planning that were taking place in the city at that time.
The following is an excerpt from the article ‘The Extensions of Khartoum’ in which Dr Abu Salim comments on the damage caused by the increase in land distribution to low-income citizens:
‘As this article appears at a time when the state is distributing land to low-income people, we should point out that housing is an important aspect of human life, especially in a country where almost everyone has a house to live in; whether it is made of straw, leather or mud, a house is a necessary factor for stability and mental well-being. However, there are problems behind increased land distribution, perhaps the most important of which is that the distribution creates a class of owners, especially now that the general trend is to own property for rent and benefit financially from it, and this actually means that many of the savings of cities will be converted into houses that may not find anyone to rent them. In addition to that, many people who do not have the financial means to build, will receive plots of land, and will have to borrow funds, whether they are civil servants or any others. This will in turn mean that this class of already burdened citizens will be in more debt and I also fear that over time increases in construction costs and materials, will become a burden on the poor.
In order to prevent or minimise these risks, the state should not insist that the construction be done within a specific time, but rather allow for longer timeframes so that the poor can build little by little and limit the rise in prices and costs. It should also provide building materials, especially local materials, and make them accessible to the poor.’
Khartoum Magazine, issue No. 6, March 1967, (p. 76)
Sudan's virtual cities
Sudan's virtual cities
According to the Human Geography Lab Manual cities are characterised by having ‘downtown areas, buildings, highways, and other transportation networks.’ They also have ‘businesses, a large population, and a unique cultural landscape.’ In the age of social media and ubiquitous online platforms, can we say we are living in virtual cities identifiable by the same, or similar, characteristics as physical cities? And if so, is there a city, or cities, inhabited specifically by a Sudanese public.
The popularity of social media platforms as a means of communicating between Sudanese is evident for example in the way the sites are used in lieu of physical closeness during social occasions. Sending a weeping emoji or a voice message of crying and lamenting the loss of a loved as is done during the bikka via the favoured WhatsApp site to offer condolences to the family of a deceased is extremely common. These virtual ‘highways,’ bring one person in contact with another or a group of others. And it is in this collective space of WhatsApp groups, Club House rooms or X’s spaces, that these social media sites start to resemble physical cities. People with a particular connection or interest come together to discuss, find out news or buy items or services the familiar way they head to physical buildings to do the same.
This is a city whose downtown areas are sites like TikTok, where the excitement of the 24-hour entertainment space, attracts young Sudanese wherever they. The older, educated elites meanwhile gather in their virtual ‘cafes’ to theorise and pontificate about how to solve all of Sudan’s problems. As for businesses, these have thrived with traffic in this area mostly being driven towards Facebook accounts advertising their goods or services. From the latest fashion in women’s tobs to Eid biscuits, from property to cars and a plethora of services. This is a marketplace open to all so long as you have the ‘vehicle’ of access to internet and website.
This virtual city has the capacity to channel its users either knowingly, or via inbuilt algorithms, into the proverbial ghettos of echo chambers where they are cut off from the multiplicities of culture, language and ethnicity that characterise the centres of cities. And just like in the real world, only those who have the tools and means to get into and engage with the city can actually reap its benefits. Thus, while many Sudanese are ‘online’, many more are not. However, these unrepresented individuals and sometimes ‘neighbourhoods’ often have access via a relative or friend or when social media crosses over to print and broadcast media where it is talked and written about.
The unique cultural landscape of the virtual Sudanese city is arguably distinguishable by its idiosyncrasies and cultural and linguistic references and mannerisms. Hashtags are created to boost the latest trends and events using words that resonate with the targeted Sudanese audience. And now since the outbreak of war, this virtual Sudanese city has taken on a new more visceral significance as a place where the literal loss of the city with its familiarity and sense of belonging can be compensated even in a small way.
Cover image © Sara Elnagar
According to the Human Geography Lab Manual cities are characterised by having ‘downtown areas, buildings, highways, and other transportation networks.’ They also have ‘businesses, a large population, and a unique cultural landscape.’ In the age of social media and ubiquitous online platforms, can we say we are living in virtual cities identifiable by the same, or similar, characteristics as physical cities? And if so, is there a city, or cities, inhabited specifically by a Sudanese public.
The popularity of social media platforms as a means of communicating between Sudanese is evident for example in the way the sites are used in lieu of physical closeness during social occasions. Sending a weeping emoji or a voice message of crying and lamenting the loss of a loved as is done during the bikka via the favoured WhatsApp site to offer condolences to the family of a deceased is extremely common. These virtual ‘highways,’ bring one person in contact with another or a group of others. And it is in this collective space of WhatsApp groups, Club House rooms or X’s spaces, that these social media sites start to resemble physical cities. People with a particular connection or interest come together to discuss, find out news or buy items or services the familiar way they head to physical buildings to do the same.
This is a city whose downtown areas are sites like TikTok, where the excitement of the 24-hour entertainment space, attracts young Sudanese wherever they. The older, educated elites meanwhile gather in their virtual ‘cafes’ to theorise and pontificate about how to solve all of Sudan’s problems. As for businesses, these have thrived with traffic in this area mostly being driven towards Facebook accounts advertising their goods or services. From the latest fashion in women’s tobs to Eid biscuits, from property to cars and a plethora of services. This is a marketplace open to all so long as you have the ‘vehicle’ of access to internet and website.
This virtual city has the capacity to channel its users either knowingly, or via inbuilt algorithms, into the proverbial ghettos of echo chambers where they are cut off from the multiplicities of culture, language and ethnicity that characterise the centres of cities. And just like in the real world, only those who have the tools and means to get into and engage with the city can actually reap its benefits. Thus, while many Sudanese are ‘online’, many more are not. However, these unrepresented individuals and sometimes ‘neighbourhoods’ often have access via a relative or friend or when social media crosses over to print and broadcast media where it is talked and written about.
The unique cultural landscape of the virtual Sudanese city is arguably distinguishable by its idiosyncrasies and cultural and linguistic references and mannerisms. Hashtags are created to boost the latest trends and events using words that resonate with the targeted Sudanese audience. And now since the outbreak of war, this virtual Sudanese city has taken on a new more visceral significance as a place where the literal loss of the city with its familiarity and sense of belonging can be compensated even in a small way.
Cover image © Sara Elnagar
According to the Human Geography Lab Manual cities are characterised by having ‘downtown areas, buildings, highways, and other transportation networks.’ They also have ‘businesses, a large population, and a unique cultural landscape.’ In the age of social media and ubiquitous online platforms, can we say we are living in virtual cities identifiable by the same, or similar, characteristics as physical cities? And if so, is there a city, or cities, inhabited specifically by a Sudanese public.
The popularity of social media platforms as a means of communicating between Sudanese is evident for example in the way the sites are used in lieu of physical closeness during social occasions. Sending a weeping emoji or a voice message of crying and lamenting the loss of a loved as is done during the bikka via the favoured WhatsApp site to offer condolences to the family of a deceased is extremely common. These virtual ‘highways,’ bring one person in contact with another or a group of others. And it is in this collective space of WhatsApp groups, Club House rooms or X’s spaces, that these social media sites start to resemble physical cities. People with a particular connection or interest come together to discuss, find out news or buy items or services the familiar way they head to physical buildings to do the same.
This is a city whose downtown areas are sites like TikTok, where the excitement of the 24-hour entertainment space, attracts young Sudanese wherever they. The older, educated elites meanwhile gather in their virtual ‘cafes’ to theorise and pontificate about how to solve all of Sudan’s problems. As for businesses, these have thrived with traffic in this area mostly being driven towards Facebook accounts advertising their goods or services. From the latest fashion in women’s tobs to Eid biscuits, from property to cars and a plethora of services. This is a marketplace open to all so long as you have the ‘vehicle’ of access to internet and website.
This virtual city has the capacity to channel its users either knowingly, or via inbuilt algorithms, into the proverbial ghettos of echo chambers where they are cut off from the multiplicities of culture, language and ethnicity that characterise the centres of cities. And just like in the real world, only those who have the tools and means to get into and engage with the city can actually reap its benefits. Thus, while many Sudanese are ‘online’, many more are not. However, these unrepresented individuals and sometimes ‘neighbourhoods’ often have access via a relative or friend or when social media crosses over to print and broadcast media where it is talked and written about.
The unique cultural landscape of the virtual Sudanese city is arguably distinguishable by its idiosyncrasies and cultural and linguistic references and mannerisms. Hashtags are created to boost the latest trends and events using words that resonate with the targeted Sudanese audience. And now since the outbreak of war, this virtual Sudanese city has taken on a new more visceral significance as a place where the literal loss of the city with its familiarity and sense of belonging can be compensated even in a small way.
Cover image © Sara Elnagar
An urban myth
An urban myth
Miadan AlKhalifa
Upon the death of Gordon Pasha, a British officer, the Mahdi forces ended Turkish rule over the land known now as Sudan on January 26, 1885. The Mahdi was a religious leader who led a revolution against the Turks between 1881 and 1885. The Sudanese people were united during his time, but he passed away shortly after Gordon and didn't live to see his Islamic state.
The Khalifa, the successor of the Mahdi, became responsible for establishing the new Mahdia state, the capital of which was Omdurman. In a span of 13 years, Omdurman grew from nothing to a human buzzing city, spanning six miles along the Nile. The spot where the Mahdi chose as his residence and later became his grave and tomb was the nucleus from which the city sprouted. To the south of the Mahdi's abode the Khalifa built his house/government building and to the west he built the largest structure in the city, the Khalifa’s mosque. Designed to hold 10 thousand souls in prayer. The mosque had a stone wall, painted limestone white, a Mihrab, and it was partially roofed. To the west the women were separated from men by a line of trees. The only thing that remained were the stone walls after the British invasion in 1898. Throughout the past century, the mosque has undergone many changes and been given many different names and uses.
I am sharing my experiences of encountering many people, trying to find out what this place has been through over time.
Memories within a memory
It was an afternoon, nothing special about it, I just took the wrong bus and found myself standing in front of Maidan Al-Khalifa, it was the Mawlid season. You can tell it’s Mawlid from the exquisite pop-up candy stalls that literally pop-up out of nowhere at the beginning of Rabi’ Al-Awwal the third month of the Islamic lunar year.
The hot pink coloured candy is a visual overdose when you first peer into those stalls, rows upon rows of pink dyed statues, along with a variety of overly sweet sweets. Many people have many unpleasant theories about its manufacturing process and where it came from and how it shouldn’t be allowed to be food. Like many unpleasant theories you close your eyes and pretend you haven’t heard…
Two kilos of that please sir!
Now I took a look at the Maidan behind the stalls. The huge square that is depressingly brown all year is now every color but brown. Tents of Sufi Tariqas have been set up in their designated sections for the twelve days of religious festivities.
Right in the centre of the Maidan stand three very tall concrete structures. A full range of Mawlid decorations were hanging from it. Those structures have always caught my attention, but the decorations made me curious about them.
What are those? I asked a young man sitting in the slim shadow of the three wall-like structures.
I don’t know. He replied. We hang the decorations on them every year.
If you ask me, that's a lot of concrete for a structure that's intended to hang seasonal decorations.
…..
I walk into an archive that is normally very difficult to access. It took many letters and many signatures to finally be able to sit in a room that some estimates say holds over two million pictures. I am handed a huge volume titled Khartoum. I flip through 1,700 something pictures showing different important buildings. They have at least two dozen pictures on the parelemnt and an entire section on Omdurman market.
Finally, I see the Maidan, but this time there’s nothing brown about it, or I think there’s nothing brown about it. It was a black and white picture, yet you can still see trees in grayscale. The three huge structures in question turned out to be a monument. Now I see it! They are part of the landscape even.
Can I take a picture? I ask the old man (there is always an old man, they come in the default scene settings in Sudan).
No you cannot!
But I have a signed paper.
Not enough, that paper has to be signed by another person and that person’s signature has to go past another person and that other person has to….
I just took a mental screenshot of the photograph and left.
…..
In a lecture room at a university stands Dr Osman Elkhair. The lecture was about how the two cities Omdurman and Khartoum were formed and how they juxtapose next to each other, the iron grid of the Tropical European Utopia contrasted with the organic cultural capital on the west of the Nile. Dr Osman explained how the Khalifa distributed large land allotments separated by roads that then expanded inwardly leaving no room for shared public spaces.
Dr Osman!
Yes?
Did you know that Maidan Al-Mawlid was a park?
Did I know? I worked on that project when I was a young architect. It was such a fabulous idea. You know Omdurman does not have any public spaces and to use that huge area as a green heart for the town would have changed it completely.
But why does the park not exist anymore?
I don’t know.
How about the monument, what was it for?
I don’t remember.
I looked up the Italian architecture company that Dr. Osman said was behind the fabulous idea. I found no pictures and certainly nothing about the monument.
…..
I stand in a room that is full to the brim with artefacts, posters and students, a room I am sure was not intended for hosting any of these subjects. Three schools sent their students to visit the Khalifa house, now a museum, and forgot to call beforehand. The museum was closed for restorations so the head of the Maidan committee, a descendent of the Khalifa, has turned his office into a mini museum and took the liberty of explaining the history of Mahdia, his history, to the young minds. Each class waited in a batch until they were allowed inside.
We waited our turn as well sitting in the now back-at-being-brown Maidan while looking at new car drivers being trained and horses being walked around. The horses looked maybe too much in their natural habitat.
The large sign said the Maidan size is 470 arm lengths by 295 arm lengths. Who's arms did they use to measure that? Is that person’s job? is to be a measuring tool? Do they get called to measure something when it is needed?
It’s now our turn to enter the room, looking at all the trinkets and posters hanging right under the ceiling.
I turn around and ask the old man (another old man), do you remember when the Maidan was turned into a park?
Do I remember? I was one of the people who opposed that terrible decision!
Why?
Because it’s a mosque and not a public space, just because it doesn’t have a roof now you assume its a square, it’s a mosque even if it doesn’t look like it.
So what happened?
Nimary took down the original wall and they built this new metal fence, they built the monument and made the landscape, we sued him and won the case and I personally watched as they removed everything, the concrete monument however was impossible to be removed…
“I am sure he only wanted to use the place to bury people.” Says a passer-byer that we didn’t even see coming.
What makes you say that?
There are rumors that under the monument there are rooms.
And dead bodies was the first thing that came to your mind? Did you see them?
No! But what else would they be made for?
It’s a tall structure, it maybe needs such a structure underneath the ground to hold it.
I don’t know...
How about the monument, what was it for?
Something about heroes.
…..
I decided to try my luck with the archives again, this time a more supposedly accessible archive. I sit in front of a woman whose job is to decide for you what you should access which is always anything but the things you want to really see. After I explained what I was looking for, she suggested I read Abusalim’s Khartoum book. He was the person who established the archives and wrote a lot of books from the documents they have. Abusalim said plenty about the Maidan, like it was built in phases, first straw then mud then stone. The Maidan was always used for religious celebrations and demonstrating the Khalifa’s army power, since it was in the heart of the city. It has the strategic location of being at the end of many roads, one of which was made for marching the Khalifa's army and the road was named after the march “Arda”, another road was made for the army to depart the city through, it was also named after the army departing the city, the departing road “Hijra”. In another book in the archives Wingate drew this quirky sketch of the mosque showing each tribe and where they used to stand in the time of prayer. Supposedly that method was used to take attendance and make sure everyone was there and not plotting something somewhere else.
…..
I posted a question online as a last resort: Does anyone know what the monument on Maidan Al-Mawlid stood for?
A number of monument-related responses were received, but none were about the monument I requested.
There were steel obelisks that people remembered at different intersections. Was it one or were they 3? They might have been mobile monuments for all that matters. Some remembered a canon, others Statius of a Badri, some said it was the son others said it was the father.
What they all had in common, apart from the one I asked about, was that none of them exist today.
I tried my luck again asking in a Facebook group for old pictures collectors. The answers came in fragments, scattered between comments shouting political agenda. Commenters said the decision to turn the mosque into a park is not divorced from the political dispute between Nimery and the Mahdi family, the entire event is looked at as an attempt to erase the history of the space and the Mahdia heritage. As for the monument, the story goes is that in the late Seventies, the Mosque was turned into a park called Heroes' Square. The monument, known as the monument of heroes, was covered in white marble from top to bottom, with stairways leading to it, giving the illusion that the landscape reached the sky.
Someone suggested I watch a music video for Abul Azeez Mohammed Daoud, Alfina Mashhouda, “what’s within us (our greatness) is known", a song about the bravery of the Sudanese people. The music video shows footage of many sites of historical locations and pictures of none other than the monument I have been long looking for. The three structures were surrounded by three-dimensional paintings showing scenes from different battles. And the towering marbled structure reflecting the sunlight in between.
…..
Back in front of the Maidan years after that first visit again during the Mawlid time. The voices of the strategically placed speakers in the Baladia building behind me however are trying to drown out the sound of recitations and chants coming from the Maidan. Men's voices can be heard excommunicating everyone in the Maidan and calling for the termination of the festivals.
Dozens of children lounge on a tiny roundabout with a ball in the middle located right between the sounds coming from both sides. The children however don’t seem to be bothered by the excessive use of freedom of speech.
Military use, market, an attempted park and a space for religious celebrations as well as anti-religious celebrations demonstrations, a fabulous idea, a terrible decision, a mysterious monument and devilish conspiracy theories, a mini museum and horse training track, a short cut for the people trapped by one-way nightmare of roads.
Among all of this what I can truly say is the brown tinted square isn’t as dead as it looks after all.
This piece was first published in 2022 under the name Maidan Alkhalifa in the book Until We Meet, Edited and Published by Locale and Waraq
Miadan AlKhalifa
Upon the death of Gordon Pasha, a British officer, the Mahdi forces ended Turkish rule over the land known now as Sudan on January 26, 1885. The Mahdi was a religious leader who led a revolution against the Turks between 1881 and 1885. The Sudanese people were united during his time, but he passed away shortly after Gordon and didn't live to see his Islamic state.
The Khalifa, the successor of the Mahdi, became responsible for establishing the new Mahdia state, the capital of which was Omdurman. In a span of 13 years, Omdurman grew from nothing to a human buzzing city, spanning six miles along the Nile. The spot where the Mahdi chose as his residence and later became his grave and tomb was the nucleus from which the city sprouted. To the south of the Mahdi's abode the Khalifa built his house/government building and to the west he built the largest structure in the city, the Khalifa’s mosque. Designed to hold 10 thousand souls in prayer. The mosque had a stone wall, painted limestone white, a Mihrab, and it was partially roofed. To the west the women were separated from men by a line of trees. The only thing that remained were the stone walls after the British invasion in 1898. Throughout the past century, the mosque has undergone many changes and been given many different names and uses.
I am sharing my experiences of encountering many people, trying to find out what this place has been through over time.
Memories within a memory
It was an afternoon, nothing special about it, I just took the wrong bus and found myself standing in front of Maidan Al-Khalifa, it was the Mawlid season. You can tell it’s Mawlid from the exquisite pop-up candy stalls that literally pop-up out of nowhere at the beginning of Rabi’ Al-Awwal the third month of the Islamic lunar year.
The hot pink coloured candy is a visual overdose when you first peer into those stalls, rows upon rows of pink dyed statues, along with a variety of overly sweet sweets. Many people have many unpleasant theories about its manufacturing process and where it came from and how it shouldn’t be allowed to be food. Like many unpleasant theories you close your eyes and pretend you haven’t heard…
Two kilos of that please sir!
Now I took a look at the Maidan behind the stalls. The huge square that is depressingly brown all year is now every color but brown. Tents of Sufi Tariqas have been set up in their designated sections for the twelve days of religious festivities.
Right in the centre of the Maidan stand three very tall concrete structures. A full range of Mawlid decorations were hanging from it. Those structures have always caught my attention, but the decorations made me curious about them.
What are those? I asked a young man sitting in the slim shadow of the three wall-like structures.
I don’t know. He replied. We hang the decorations on them every year.
If you ask me, that's a lot of concrete for a structure that's intended to hang seasonal decorations.
…..
I walk into an archive that is normally very difficult to access. It took many letters and many signatures to finally be able to sit in a room that some estimates say holds over two million pictures. I am handed a huge volume titled Khartoum. I flip through 1,700 something pictures showing different important buildings. They have at least two dozen pictures on the parelemnt and an entire section on Omdurman market.
Finally, I see the Maidan, but this time there’s nothing brown about it, or I think there’s nothing brown about it. It was a black and white picture, yet you can still see trees in grayscale. The three huge structures in question turned out to be a monument. Now I see it! They are part of the landscape even.
Can I take a picture? I ask the old man (there is always an old man, they come in the default scene settings in Sudan).
No you cannot!
But I have a signed paper.
Not enough, that paper has to be signed by another person and that person’s signature has to go past another person and that other person has to….
I just took a mental screenshot of the photograph and left.
…..
In a lecture room at a university stands Dr Osman Elkhair. The lecture was about how the two cities Omdurman and Khartoum were formed and how they juxtapose next to each other, the iron grid of the Tropical European Utopia contrasted with the organic cultural capital on the west of the Nile. Dr Osman explained how the Khalifa distributed large land allotments separated by roads that then expanded inwardly leaving no room for shared public spaces.
Dr Osman!
Yes?
Did you know that Maidan Al-Mawlid was a park?
Did I know? I worked on that project when I was a young architect. It was such a fabulous idea. You know Omdurman does not have any public spaces and to use that huge area as a green heart for the town would have changed it completely.
But why does the park not exist anymore?
I don’t know.
How about the monument, what was it for?
I don’t remember.
I looked up the Italian architecture company that Dr. Osman said was behind the fabulous idea. I found no pictures and certainly nothing about the monument.
…..
I stand in a room that is full to the brim with artefacts, posters and students, a room I am sure was not intended for hosting any of these subjects. Three schools sent their students to visit the Khalifa house, now a museum, and forgot to call beforehand. The museum was closed for restorations so the head of the Maidan committee, a descendent of the Khalifa, has turned his office into a mini museum and took the liberty of explaining the history of Mahdia, his history, to the young minds. Each class waited in a batch until they were allowed inside.
We waited our turn as well sitting in the now back-at-being-brown Maidan while looking at new car drivers being trained and horses being walked around. The horses looked maybe too much in their natural habitat.
The large sign said the Maidan size is 470 arm lengths by 295 arm lengths. Who's arms did they use to measure that? Is that person’s job? is to be a measuring tool? Do they get called to measure something when it is needed?
It’s now our turn to enter the room, looking at all the trinkets and posters hanging right under the ceiling.
I turn around and ask the old man (another old man), do you remember when the Maidan was turned into a park?
Do I remember? I was one of the people who opposed that terrible decision!
Why?
Because it’s a mosque and not a public space, just because it doesn’t have a roof now you assume its a square, it’s a mosque even if it doesn’t look like it.
So what happened?
Nimary took down the original wall and they built this new metal fence, they built the monument and made the landscape, we sued him and won the case and I personally watched as they removed everything, the concrete monument however was impossible to be removed…
“I am sure he only wanted to use the place to bury people.” Says a passer-byer that we didn’t even see coming.
What makes you say that?
There are rumors that under the monument there are rooms.
And dead bodies was the first thing that came to your mind? Did you see them?
No! But what else would they be made for?
It’s a tall structure, it maybe needs such a structure underneath the ground to hold it.
I don’t know...
How about the monument, what was it for?
Something about heroes.
…..
I decided to try my luck with the archives again, this time a more supposedly accessible archive. I sit in front of a woman whose job is to decide for you what you should access which is always anything but the things you want to really see. After I explained what I was looking for, she suggested I read Abusalim’s Khartoum book. He was the person who established the archives and wrote a lot of books from the documents they have. Abusalim said plenty about the Maidan, like it was built in phases, first straw then mud then stone. The Maidan was always used for religious celebrations and demonstrating the Khalifa’s army power, since it was in the heart of the city. It has the strategic location of being at the end of many roads, one of which was made for marching the Khalifa's army and the road was named after the march “Arda”, another road was made for the army to depart the city through, it was also named after the army departing the city, the departing road “Hijra”. In another book in the archives Wingate drew this quirky sketch of the mosque showing each tribe and where they used to stand in the time of prayer. Supposedly that method was used to take attendance and make sure everyone was there and not plotting something somewhere else.
…..
I posted a question online as a last resort: Does anyone know what the monument on Maidan Al-Mawlid stood for?
A number of monument-related responses were received, but none were about the monument I requested.
There were steel obelisks that people remembered at different intersections. Was it one or were they 3? They might have been mobile monuments for all that matters. Some remembered a canon, others Statius of a Badri, some said it was the son others said it was the father.
What they all had in common, apart from the one I asked about, was that none of them exist today.
I tried my luck again asking in a Facebook group for old pictures collectors. The answers came in fragments, scattered between comments shouting political agenda. Commenters said the decision to turn the mosque into a park is not divorced from the political dispute between Nimery and the Mahdi family, the entire event is looked at as an attempt to erase the history of the space and the Mahdia heritage. As for the monument, the story goes is that in the late Seventies, the Mosque was turned into a park called Heroes' Square. The monument, known as the monument of heroes, was covered in white marble from top to bottom, with stairways leading to it, giving the illusion that the landscape reached the sky.
Someone suggested I watch a music video for Abul Azeez Mohammed Daoud, Alfina Mashhouda, “what’s within us (our greatness) is known", a song about the bravery of the Sudanese people. The music video shows footage of many sites of historical locations and pictures of none other than the monument I have been long looking for. The three structures were surrounded by three-dimensional paintings showing scenes from different battles. And the towering marbled structure reflecting the sunlight in between.
…..
Back in front of the Maidan years after that first visit again during the Mawlid time. The voices of the strategically placed speakers in the Baladia building behind me however are trying to drown out the sound of recitations and chants coming from the Maidan. Men's voices can be heard excommunicating everyone in the Maidan and calling for the termination of the festivals.
Dozens of children lounge on a tiny roundabout with a ball in the middle located right between the sounds coming from both sides. The children however don’t seem to be bothered by the excessive use of freedom of speech.
Military use, market, an attempted park and a space for religious celebrations as well as anti-religious celebrations demonstrations, a fabulous idea, a terrible decision, a mysterious monument and devilish conspiracy theories, a mini museum and horse training track, a short cut for the people trapped by one-way nightmare of roads.
Among all of this what I can truly say is the brown tinted square isn’t as dead as it looks after all.
This piece was first published in 2022 under the name Maidan Alkhalifa in the book Until We Meet, Edited and Published by Locale and Waraq
Miadan AlKhalifa
Upon the death of Gordon Pasha, a British officer, the Mahdi forces ended Turkish rule over the land known now as Sudan on January 26, 1885. The Mahdi was a religious leader who led a revolution against the Turks between 1881 and 1885. The Sudanese people were united during his time, but he passed away shortly after Gordon and didn't live to see his Islamic state.
The Khalifa, the successor of the Mahdi, became responsible for establishing the new Mahdia state, the capital of which was Omdurman. In a span of 13 years, Omdurman grew from nothing to a human buzzing city, spanning six miles along the Nile. The spot where the Mahdi chose as his residence and later became his grave and tomb was the nucleus from which the city sprouted. To the south of the Mahdi's abode the Khalifa built his house/government building and to the west he built the largest structure in the city, the Khalifa’s mosque. Designed to hold 10 thousand souls in prayer. The mosque had a stone wall, painted limestone white, a Mihrab, and it was partially roofed. To the west the women were separated from men by a line of trees. The only thing that remained were the stone walls after the British invasion in 1898. Throughout the past century, the mosque has undergone many changes and been given many different names and uses.
I am sharing my experiences of encountering many people, trying to find out what this place has been through over time.
Memories within a memory
It was an afternoon, nothing special about it, I just took the wrong bus and found myself standing in front of Maidan Al-Khalifa, it was the Mawlid season. You can tell it’s Mawlid from the exquisite pop-up candy stalls that literally pop-up out of nowhere at the beginning of Rabi’ Al-Awwal the third month of the Islamic lunar year.
The hot pink coloured candy is a visual overdose when you first peer into those stalls, rows upon rows of pink dyed statues, along with a variety of overly sweet sweets. Many people have many unpleasant theories about its manufacturing process and where it came from and how it shouldn’t be allowed to be food. Like many unpleasant theories you close your eyes and pretend you haven’t heard…
Two kilos of that please sir!
Now I took a look at the Maidan behind the stalls. The huge square that is depressingly brown all year is now every color but brown. Tents of Sufi Tariqas have been set up in their designated sections for the twelve days of religious festivities.
Right in the centre of the Maidan stand three very tall concrete structures. A full range of Mawlid decorations were hanging from it. Those structures have always caught my attention, but the decorations made me curious about them.
What are those? I asked a young man sitting in the slim shadow of the three wall-like structures.
I don’t know. He replied. We hang the decorations on them every year.
If you ask me, that's a lot of concrete for a structure that's intended to hang seasonal decorations.
…..
I walk into an archive that is normally very difficult to access. It took many letters and many signatures to finally be able to sit in a room that some estimates say holds over two million pictures. I am handed a huge volume titled Khartoum. I flip through 1,700 something pictures showing different important buildings. They have at least two dozen pictures on the parelemnt and an entire section on Omdurman market.
Finally, I see the Maidan, but this time there’s nothing brown about it, or I think there’s nothing brown about it. It was a black and white picture, yet you can still see trees in grayscale. The three huge structures in question turned out to be a monument. Now I see it! They are part of the landscape even.
Can I take a picture? I ask the old man (there is always an old man, they come in the default scene settings in Sudan).
No you cannot!
But I have a signed paper.
Not enough, that paper has to be signed by another person and that person’s signature has to go past another person and that other person has to….
I just took a mental screenshot of the photograph and left.
…..
In a lecture room at a university stands Dr Osman Elkhair. The lecture was about how the two cities Omdurman and Khartoum were formed and how they juxtapose next to each other, the iron grid of the Tropical European Utopia contrasted with the organic cultural capital on the west of the Nile. Dr Osman explained how the Khalifa distributed large land allotments separated by roads that then expanded inwardly leaving no room for shared public spaces.
Dr Osman!
Yes?
Did you know that Maidan Al-Mawlid was a park?
Did I know? I worked on that project when I was a young architect. It was such a fabulous idea. You know Omdurman does not have any public spaces and to use that huge area as a green heart for the town would have changed it completely.
But why does the park not exist anymore?
I don’t know.
How about the monument, what was it for?
I don’t remember.
I looked up the Italian architecture company that Dr. Osman said was behind the fabulous idea. I found no pictures and certainly nothing about the monument.
…..
I stand in a room that is full to the brim with artefacts, posters and students, a room I am sure was not intended for hosting any of these subjects. Three schools sent their students to visit the Khalifa house, now a museum, and forgot to call beforehand. The museum was closed for restorations so the head of the Maidan committee, a descendent of the Khalifa, has turned his office into a mini museum and took the liberty of explaining the history of Mahdia, his history, to the young minds. Each class waited in a batch until they were allowed inside.
We waited our turn as well sitting in the now back-at-being-brown Maidan while looking at new car drivers being trained and horses being walked around. The horses looked maybe too much in their natural habitat.
The large sign said the Maidan size is 470 arm lengths by 295 arm lengths. Who's arms did they use to measure that? Is that person’s job? is to be a measuring tool? Do they get called to measure something when it is needed?
It’s now our turn to enter the room, looking at all the trinkets and posters hanging right under the ceiling.
I turn around and ask the old man (another old man), do you remember when the Maidan was turned into a park?
Do I remember? I was one of the people who opposed that terrible decision!
Why?
Because it’s a mosque and not a public space, just because it doesn’t have a roof now you assume its a square, it’s a mosque even if it doesn’t look like it.
So what happened?
Nimary took down the original wall and they built this new metal fence, they built the monument and made the landscape, we sued him and won the case and I personally watched as they removed everything, the concrete monument however was impossible to be removed…
“I am sure he only wanted to use the place to bury people.” Says a passer-byer that we didn’t even see coming.
What makes you say that?
There are rumors that under the monument there are rooms.
And dead bodies was the first thing that came to your mind? Did you see them?
No! But what else would they be made for?
It’s a tall structure, it maybe needs such a structure underneath the ground to hold it.
I don’t know...
How about the monument, what was it for?
Something about heroes.
…..
I decided to try my luck with the archives again, this time a more supposedly accessible archive. I sit in front of a woman whose job is to decide for you what you should access which is always anything but the things you want to really see. After I explained what I was looking for, she suggested I read Abusalim’s Khartoum book. He was the person who established the archives and wrote a lot of books from the documents they have. Abusalim said plenty about the Maidan, like it was built in phases, first straw then mud then stone. The Maidan was always used for religious celebrations and demonstrating the Khalifa’s army power, since it was in the heart of the city. It has the strategic location of being at the end of many roads, one of which was made for marching the Khalifa's army and the road was named after the march “Arda”, another road was made for the army to depart the city through, it was also named after the army departing the city, the departing road “Hijra”. In another book in the archives Wingate drew this quirky sketch of the mosque showing each tribe and where they used to stand in the time of prayer. Supposedly that method was used to take attendance and make sure everyone was there and not plotting something somewhere else.
…..
I posted a question online as a last resort: Does anyone know what the monument on Maidan Al-Mawlid stood for?
A number of monument-related responses were received, but none were about the monument I requested.
There were steel obelisks that people remembered at different intersections. Was it one or were they 3? They might have been mobile monuments for all that matters. Some remembered a canon, others Statius of a Badri, some said it was the son others said it was the father.
What they all had in common, apart from the one I asked about, was that none of them exist today.
I tried my luck again asking in a Facebook group for old pictures collectors. The answers came in fragments, scattered between comments shouting political agenda. Commenters said the decision to turn the mosque into a park is not divorced from the political dispute between Nimery and the Mahdi family, the entire event is looked at as an attempt to erase the history of the space and the Mahdia heritage. As for the monument, the story goes is that in the late Seventies, the Mosque was turned into a park called Heroes' Square. The monument, known as the monument of heroes, was covered in white marble from top to bottom, with stairways leading to it, giving the illusion that the landscape reached the sky.
Someone suggested I watch a music video for Abul Azeez Mohammed Daoud, Alfina Mashhouda, “what’s within us (our greatness) is known", a song about the bravery of the Sudanese people. The music video shows footage of many sites of historical locations and pictures of none other than the monument I have been long looking for. The three structures were surrounded by three-dimensional paintings showing scenes from different battles. And the towering marbled structure reflecting the sunlight in between.
…..
Back in front of the Maidan years after that first visit again during the Mawlid time. The voices of the strategically placed speakers in the Baladia building behind me however are trying to drown out the sound of recitations and chants coming from the Maidan. Men's voices can be heard excommunicating everyone in the Maidan and calling for the termination of the festivals.
Dozens of children lounge on a tiny roundabout with a ball in the middle located right between the sounds coming from both sides. The children however don’t seem to be bothered by the excessive use of freedom of speech.
Military use, market, an attempted park and a space for religious celebrations as well as anti-religious celebrations demonstrations, a fabulous idea, a terrible decision, a mysterious monument and devilish conspiracy theories, a mini museum and horse training track, a short cut for the people trapped by one-way nightmare of roads.
Among all of this what I can truly say is the brown tinted square isn’t as dead as it looks after all.
This piece was first published in 2022 under the name Maidan Alkhalifa in the book Until We Meet, Edited and Published by Locale and Waraq
Return to Sinnar
Return to Sinnar
Return to Sinnar
Poetry: Dr. Mohamed Abdel Hai
The poem "Return to Sennar", by the great poet Dr. Mohamed Abdel Hai, is one of the most segnificant poems that discuss the issue of Sudanese identity. It was part of the formation of the "Forest and Desert" movement, which began in the sixties of the last century. A group of great poets contributed to the formation of this poetic and cultural movement. Some of the most notable poets were Al-Nour Othman Abkar, Muhammad Al-Makki Ibrahim, Dr. Youssef Aidabi, and Abdullah Shabo.
We have chosen this poem among many written about ancient Sudanese cities and kingdoms, dating back to 1963 AD, and it is also considered one of the leading poems within the currents of modern poetry in Sudan and even in the Arab world.
Extract from the poem
Tonight my people welcome me:
The spirits of my ancestors emerge from
the silver of river dreams, and from
the night of names
They take on the bodies of children.
They breathe into the lungs of the holy Maddah
and with a forearm
strike across the drummer's arm.
Tonight my people welcome me:
They gave me a rosary made of the teeth of the dead
a skull jug a buffalo-skin prayer mat
A symbol that shines between palm and ebony tree
A language that rises like a spear
from the body of the earth
and across the sky of the wound.
Tonight my people welcome me.
The forest and the desert were
A naked woman asleep
on a bed of lightning waiting for
Her divine bull that visits in the darkness.
The horizon of the face and the mask were one.
Blooming in the sultanate of innocence
and the sludge of beginnings
On the border of light and darkness between waking and sleeping.
(1963)
Cover picture © Zainab Gaafar, children on a roundabout, Sinnar City, 2018
Return to Sinnar
Poetry: Dr. Mohamed Abdel Hai
The poem "Return to Sennar", by the great poet Dr. Mohamed Abdel Hai, is one of the most segnificant poems that discuss the issue of Sudanese identity. It was part of the formation of the "Forest and Desert" movement, which began in the sixties of the last century. A group of great poets contributed to the formation of this poetic and cultural movement. Some of the most notable poets were Al-Nour Othman Abkar, Muhammad Al-Makki Ibrahim, Dr. Youssef Aidabi, and Abdullah Shabo.
We have chosen this poem among many written about ancient Sudanese cities and kingdoms, dating back to 1963 AD, and it is also considered one of the leading poems within the currents of modern poetry in Sudan and even in the Arab world.
Extract from the poem
Tonight my people welcome me:
The spirits of my ancestors emerge from
the silver of river dreams, and from
the night of names
They take on the bodies of children.
They breathe into the lungs of the holy Maddah
and with a forearm
strike across the drummer's arm.
Tonight my people welcome me:
They gave me a rosary made of the teeth of the dead
a skull jug a buffalo-skin prayer mat
A symbol that shines between palm and ebony tree
A language that rises like a spear
from the body of the earth
and across the sky of the wound.
Tonight my people welcome me.
The forest and the desert were
A naked woman asleep
on a bed of lightning waiting for
Her divine bull that visits in the darkness.
The horizon of the face and the mask were one.
Blooming in the sultanate of innocence
and the sludge of beginnings
On the border of light and darkness between waking and sleeping.
(1963)
Cover picture © Zainab Gaafar, children on a roundabout, Sinnar City, 2018
Return to Sinnar
Poetry: Dr. Mohamed Abdel Hai
The poem "Return to Sennar", by the great poet Dr. Mohamed Abdel Hai, is one of the most segnificant poems that discuss the issue of Sudanese identity. It was part of the formation of the "Forest and Desert" movement, which began in the sixties of the last century. A group of great poets contributed to the formation of this poetic and cultural movement. Some of the most notable poets were Al-Nour Othman Abkar, Muhammad Al-Makki Ibrahim, Dr. Youssef Aidabi, and Abdullah Shabo.
We have chosen this poem among many written about ancient Sudanese cities and kingdoms, dating back to 1963 AD, and it is also considered one of the leading poems within the currents of modern poetry in Sudan and even in the Arab world.
Extract from the poem
Tonight my people welcome me:
The spirits of my ancestors emerge from
the silver of river dreams, and from
the night of names
They take on the bodies of children.
They breathe into the lungs of the holy Maddah
and with a forearm
strike across the drummer's arm.
Tonight my people welcome me:
They gave me a rosary made of the teeth of the dead
a skull jug a buffalo-skin prayer mat
A symbol that shines between palm and ebony tree
A language that rises like a spear
from the body of the earth
and across the sky of the wound.
Tonight my people welcome me.
The forest and the desert were
A naked woman asleep
on a bed of lightning waiting for
Her divine bull that visits in the darkness.
The horizon of the face and the mask were one.
Blooming in the sultanate of innocence
and the sludge of beginnings
On the border of light and darkness between waking and sleeping.
(1963)
Cover picture © Zainab Gaafar, children on a roundabout, Sinnar City, 2018
Right to Public Space
Right to Public Space
The production team for this episode are:
Research and Producer: Almuzn Mohammedelhassan, Mai Abusalih, and Zainab Gaafar.
Presenter and Poster Design: Azza Mohamed.
Script: Almuzn Mohammedelhassan, Mai Abusalih, Zainab Gaafar, and Husam Hilali.
Music: Zain Records.
Audio Mixing: Tariq Suliman.
Project Manager: Zainab Gaafar.
Equipment and technical assistance: elMastabaTV.
Recording studio: 404 Creative Design Studio.
Public spaces are a means of recreation and relaxation in a crowded, sprawling city like Khartoum. Throughout the past thirty years, the government’s policies towards public spaces and their use can be summed up in approximately three keywords: privatization, restriction of use, and alteration of purpose. It is possible to say that Khartoum’s reserve of squares and public spaces has gradually eroded during the years of the Inqaz Regime. Every so often citizens wake up to find this park or that public square sold off or leased to a private investor. Soon after the walls rise around it and the gates close on it, and the public sphere gradually narrows.
In this article, we’ll take a look at some of the active public spaces that have emerged spontaneously without any kind of formal planning, and the fate of the ones that are formally planned. We will explore the role public spaces had to play in the country’s political history, After which, with the help of some examples, we will inspect how privatization policies contributed to the loss of public spaces, and the legal aspect of this systemic campaign to strip the city of its public spaces.
It can be argued that public space actually begins at the threshold of the house. The term “Mastaba”, referring to a slightly elevated paved surface in front of a house, is often the stage for many social activities; such as Ramadan’s Iftar or children’s outdoor activities. Oftentimes it is designed and built along with the house as a natural extension of it. However, we will be focusing, at a larger scale, on the public squares, plazas, and parks, starting with those that emerged with little to no urban planning
Among the most famous public spaces, especially in recent years, is “Atené” square. Its popularity persists despite its small size, peculiar origin, and the fact that it’s not technically a public space. Furthermore, its visitors and the nature of their activities have a special image in the collective imagination. Much of this recent popularity can arguably be attributed to “Mafroosh”, a monthly bazaar for second-hand books that was held in the square regularly from 2012 until it was discontinued in 2015.
Coincidence had a major role to play in the conception and subsequent development of Atené Square as a public space. However, the square itself is not public property per se, but is rather part of a private property owned by the Abu El-ela family and was built during the Independence era (mid-1950s). Designed by N. Stephanis, the real estate includes five office buildings and is located at the intersection of Al-Qasr and Al-Gomhouria streets, one of the busiest intersections in the city, making it easily accessible from most of downtown Khartoum. Out of the five planned buildings, four were fully constructed while the plot in the center, which should have been the fifth building, remained empty except for a few short columns and the entrance and exit of the car parking in the basement. This space later became Atené Square. This central positioning made the square “immersed” between the other buildings, sheltering it from the noise of the nearby streets. The surrounding buildings cast their shade on the square since late afternoon, making it a suitable venue during the daytime, unlike other public squares or plazas that are exposed to direct radiation for most of the day. On top of all that, the square is surrounded -on three sides- by small shops and stores overlooking verandahs, making it active all day long, without getting too crowded.
Perhaps Atené’s property nature as private was its greatest advantage; it minimized the government – or governments’ -ability to expropriate it or restrict its use. This is a strange paradox. That it is Atené’s dependency on the private sector that protects its public use from government requisition! This paradox becomes evident given the story of “Mafroosh” Bazaar.
Mafroosh’s first event was held in May 2012, led by an initiative from Work Cultural Group, in the square chosen specifically for its symbolism, as it has been a meeting place of intellectuals for decades. The bazaar is based on a simple idea; On the first Tuesday of every month, about twenty to fifty booksellers display on the ground their merchandise of old, second-hand, new, rare, or forbidden books -hence the name Mfroosh that means to be laid on the ground in Arabic.2Transactions were carried out by either sale or books exchange. The bazaar attracted hundreds of visitors Of different ages and demographics, as it was a place to meet with friends and interact with others over a period of time that extended from early afternoon until nine in the evening. Sales were not limited to books, as handicrafts were also displayed, and it was accompanied by a musical performance every once in a while.
The bazaar was not sponsored by any government institution which did not pose any problem for the first two years. However, interference started soon after the restrictions that followed the crackdown of September 2013 protests. Organizers were hindered from holding the bazaar by trapping them in a series of bureaucratic procedures, under the pretext that they had to submit a list of every single book title to be displayed if they were to proceed with the event.3 A feat that is impossible for a bazaar centered around its visitors’ free exchange of their used books. After a hiatus lasting several years, Mafroosh was eventually brought back to the “Qiyadah” sit-in, after which it was held regularly in the National Museum.4
Mafroosh created a space for culture at a time when the restrictions imposed on it by the authorities were tightening, and the venues for public activities were shrinking. When the government was unable to get rid of the square by selling it off or barring public access to it, as is usually the case with “Actual” public squares, they proceeded to obstruct Mafroosh through the black hole of bureaucracy. It does not seem that the problem was with Mafroosh or Atené, insomuch as it was in the free space they provided. A space that dictatorial authority views as cancer that must be eradicated.
Another area in Khartoum that can be considered a product of happenstance is Khartoum’s Nile Street, which gradually became an important outlet for the city, fostering hundreds of small businesses relying on its existence as a public space frequented by all city’s inhabitants.
The privatization of the riverfront by opening it up to investment can be observed in the eastern-most segment of Nile Street. Between the Armed forces and Mansheya bridges, several privately owned facilities can be observed, such as Alnadi Alwatani (National club) or wedding venues. This pattern of encroachment on public space, which is only beginning in this part of Nile Street, is officially institutionalized in Khartoum’s Structural Plan (the latest urban plan for Greater Khartoum), specifically in the plan for the Muqran area and Al-Sunut forest. There is a clear orientation to transform the area into a concrete forest of some kind. The plan will densify the area and turn it into a business district, stacked with office towers.6 Most of the area between the Blue Nile and Nile Street will be privately owned, meaning that access to the riverfront will become a privilege and not a right in a city permeated by three rivers. A tender to implement the 25 years-long plan was opened to both local and international companies alike in 2005.7 It does not seem that a project such as Al-Muqran takes into consideration the fate of the aforementioned users of the space, be it the small businesses owners or their customers or regular visitors, not even the urban fabric of the city.
It is important to mention Mafroosh and Nile street in this context since they are arguably considered central public spaces, and because they were not planned but rather came into existence as a result of people’s needs and the way they utilized these spaces. For a brief while, however, the sit-in area in front of the General Armed Forces Command was the central “square” of the city. In one way or another, it showcased all the activities you would expect to find in a typical public square; a spontaneous meeting place for friends after work hours, a venue where big events and concerts are occasionally held, or a place where people would meet just for chatting and exchanging ideas and views. The sit-in area was spontaneously utilized for all these uses while people were occupying it, but the purpose that was intended the moment the crowds reached it, was to make their voice heard. It was a political intention that led them there.
This political intentionality is an important characteristic of the utilization of public space in Khartoum. The memory of the city with revolutions and civil movements is an old one. A memory that stretches back to even before independence. It is impossible to write about public space in a city like Khartoum, without bringing up those moments, when thousands of footsteps were engraved as a vivid memory still imprinted on the sidewalks, the dirt, and the asphalt of streets.
Abdel Moneim Square –which later came to be known as Nadi Alusra or The Family Club– was the first stage of the October 1964 Revolution, where the funeral prayer for the martyr al-Qurashi took place. The second stage being Al-Gamma Avenue, where, on the twenty-eighth of October, thousands of citizens headed towards the Republican Palace, crowding the surrounding streets.10The angry footsteps of protesters resonated on Al-Qasr Avenue during the April 1985 Revolution. They spilled out into the street from Khartoum’s main railway station all the way to the Palace.11 As for the “Qiada” (Army Headquarters) itself – the Center stage of the December 2018 revolution – it is not a square but a group of streets surrounding the General Armed forces Command, and as a gathering point for a number of main streets, it is one of the city’s central areas.
Suffice it to say that with the exception of Abdel Moneim Square, most of the civil movements took place in streets, and not the public squares. Why, then, were most major political events associated with the streets? Why Al-Gamma and Al Qasr Avenues, and not Abu Ginzeer Square, for example? After all, squares such as Al-Tahrir in Cairo or Tiananmen in Beijing were center stages for important political events. Is it because Khartoum is already short on public squares? Or because the existing squares have their own problems? What prevented these squares from being the stage of such events?
A brief historical overview of Khartoum’s central public squares, such as the former Abbas, The United Nations, and Abdel Moneim Squares, as well as the remaining ones like Abu Ginzeer Square, can give us an insight into the reasons behind this. The story of the United Nations, and Abdel Moneim squares, in particular, can shed a light on the policies of privatization and repurposing institutionalized by former governments. The greatest manifestation of the state’s hostile policies towards the existence of a freely accessible and active public venue, is the fact that Abdel Moneim Square was once a hub for rallies and civil movements in the 1950s and 60s, but this role gradually diminished until it completely disappeared from the collective imagination.
Let’s start first with Khartoum city’s first formally-planned square; Abbas Square (named after Khedive Abbas). It was the central square of Kitchener’s Khartoum, and it continued to serve as the main square of the steadily expanding city, with the Grand Mosque in its center -as typical in many Arab cities- surrounded by the main market. The square was split by Victoria Avenue, the widest in Khartoum back then.14 With the continuous expansion of the city, however, the square gradually shrank as the buildings crawled and swallowed it, until all that was left of the original square were two small squares: The United Nations and Abu Ginzeer Squares.
Abu Ginzeer Square is named after the owner of a grave surrounded by iron chains (Ginazeer) that was located at the center of the square. In recent years it was cordoned off by a fence, and during the recent December 2018 revolution security forces were stationed there. As if paramilitary forces occupying a public square -as the most blatant manifestation of state militarization- was not bad enough, the square was converted, during the December revolution, into a gathering point for protesters arrested during marches in Khartoum’s downtown, from which they are sent to various detention centers.16 17
The United Nations Square had multiple uses; the southern part of it was a football field, and the northern part had a vegetable market called al-Zinc Market. It withstood the changes until Nimeiri’s era after which it became Al-Quba Alkhadra (Green Dome) Library, which was later demolished and the Waha (Oasis) Towers were built on its site. 18 As for the reason behind the square’s name, it was where the United Nations flags were once raised.
Abdel Moneim Square is the main square of the Khartoum 3 neighborhood. Its plan contrasted significantly with Kitchener’s original Khartoum plan. In contrast to the uninterrupted iron grid, Khartoum 3 was laid out around a circular center represented by Abdel Moneim Square. As previously mentioned, in the fifties and sixties, the square was the stage for important events in the city’s memory. Events that exerted considerable influence on the rest of the country, as seen in the Al-Gezira farmers’ sit-in in the square. On the 29th of December 1953, twenty five thousand farmers from Al-Gezira region along with their families, occupied the Square and succeeded in forcing the government to recognize their union.19 Another significant event took place on the 17th of November 1958, when the representatives of Parliament met to vote on a “withdrawal of confidence” from Abdullah Bey Khalil’s government, who tried to impede their efforts by postponing the parliament session and handing over power to the army the next day.20 The aforementioned funeral procession of al-Qurashi, which marked the beginning of the end for Abboud’s regime, also took place in the square. Colleagues and professors of al-Qurashi -a student at the University of Khartoum at the time – along with the citizens, who joined them, marched carrying his body, all the way from Khartoum Hospital, along the Isbitalia Street and across Hurriya Bridge towards Khartoum 3 neighborhood, where they held his funeral prayers in the square. His body was then sent back to be buried at his hometown, Al-Qurassa village in Gezira state. 21
The square was later converted to Nadi Al-Usra (The Family Club.) Its considerable size allowed it to host various sports, social, and political activities. It included arenas and halls for various sports, including tennis, squash, and billiards. It also hosted many political seminars. Most importantly, it was a recreational destination for the families who lived in the neighborhood and nearby areas up until the early nineties. From then on, the authorities began to restrict its use, then began to gradually cut off pieces of land and reassign them to various other purposes; sometimes as headquarters for government institutions or security services, other times to be sold off to private investment.23 The fierce raid of privatization on the club makes more sense when considering the value of the land; the plot of land on which the club was built is among the most expensive in Khartoum.
What makes Abdel Moneim Square significant is that it can be viewed as a historical record for understanding the relationship between public space and the state. It was originally designed to serve the neighborhood’s level, and perhaps the nearby neighborhoods, not the city level. However, as evident from the history of the square, at some point it served a greater level than the city itself. The square also reveals the wasted potential of neighborhoods’ squares, as demonstrated by the period it was developed to house Nadi Al-usra. On top of it all, the square is an example of the hostility with which the state deals with public spaces, especially during the thirty years of the Inqaz era. This hostility created a clear pattern, evident in a systematic campaign to take over public squares, starting from the large city squares, to even neighborhood’s squares. The audacity of this takeover campaign reaches the limits of insolence in small squares scattered across neighborhoods, and far from the monitoring eyes of the public.
So how did neighborhoods’ squares fall prey to the greed of governments and private investors? To understand this we must answer a few questions: How was this expropriation trend initiated? And how did the urban planning of the city in general and the urban design of these very squares facilitate the continuation of this trend?
According to Dr. Osman Al-Khair, an architect and researcher specializing in the field of human settlements, It can be argued that the first seeds of this pattern were sown in Abboud’s regime, the first military dictatorship. During Abboud’s era, residential districts were planned with vastly spacious squares, e.g. Al-Thawrats in Omdurman. Later, during Nimeiri’s regime and its successive financial crises, the government turned its gaze toward these vast squares, with their land values increasing as they were now located in the center of the expanding city. Nimeiri’s administration began to slice off longitudinal strips of land from the squares’ perimeters and divide them into residential plots to be auctioned off. Since these squares were larger than the neighbourhoods’ needs, this step in and of itself was not problematic, as it was an attempt to control the urban sprawl of the city that was spiraling out of control. The problem is that this policy has opened the door wide for the expropriation of these squares.24
One of the most prominent factors facilitating this encroachment of neighborhoods’ squares, by making it difficult to notice and thus to take action against, is the fact that most of these squares are virtually deserted. The empty plots of land are devoid of life and rarely ever utilized, and if so, then mostly as a landfill or a shortcut. According to Dr. Othman Al-Khair, The abandonment and the subsequent desertion of these squares was likely a result of service facilities and commercial activities concentrating on the perimeter of the neighborhoods, to be closer to the asphalted main street. This resulted in the death of the neighborhoods’ inner center, which is usually where the square is situated. This desertion alienates it from the memory of the neighborhood’s residents, and thus further distances it from the eyes of public monitoring.25
Of course, this reasoning alone is not enough to completely account for the shrinking of these squares. However, when adding to all of the above an elastic planning law, with no clear checks and balances for the officials entrusted to implement it, and without regulations explaining it, the equation becomes complete to strip the neighborhoods of squares and the city itself of public spaces.
Perhaps shedding a light on some of the legal aspects concerning the planning and use of public space, can offer a glimpse into the previous regime’s perspective on public spaces. It can also further explain the reasons behind the vague and elastic bureaucratic procedures that hinder the protection of these spaces, thereby facilitating their grapping and privatization .
According to Salwa Abasam, A lawyer and an activist in civil society organizations, The current law regulating the planning and use of land is The 1994 Urban Planning and Land Disposal Act, that replaced The 1406 AH Land Disposal Act, The 1406 AH Urban Planning Act and The 1950 Town Replanning Act.26 The 1994 Act is brief, with only 49 articles, therefore, it needs a lot of explanatory and complementary regulations, and this is exactly where the problems with this law begin. But before we delve into these problems, we must have an understanding of the officials and institutions involved in implementing this law. First, there is The Federal Urban Planning and Land Disposal Council, which is the body primarily responsible for setting general policies and plans and overseeing their implementation. Then for each state, there is the Minister of Urban Planning and The State Planning Committee.27
Within the jurisdiction of the Supreme Council for Urban Planning, detailed in Article 8 of the 1994 Act, is to “Approve the change of field of land use…with the exception of public spaces and squares.”28 The jurisdiction to change the land use of public spaces was granted to the minister and the planning committee in their respective states, in accordance with Article 9, which defines the authorities of the minister, on whom also falls the task of approving directed maps. These maps detail the required services for the area as well as land use, including public spaces and squares. Article 9 grants the minister the authority to “recommend the change of use of public spaces and squares, for any purpose, where necessity requires the same.“29 and assigns the task of approving or rejecting this recommendation to the state planning committee; i.e. , it is the committee that determines what is a “necessity” that requires change. The odd contradiction is that the decisions of this committee are appealed by the minister himself. According to Article 42, The Minister also has the authority to “…dispose of the planned land the purposes of which have been specified, by way of preferential allotment…”30 The article regulates this allocation which goes through the same aforementioned procedure, of being approved or rejected by the state’s planning committee.
Now back to the problematic part of the law. Salwa Abasam explains that expressions such as “where necessity requires the same.” are loose, flexible, and can be interpreted at the whims of the executive authorities. The ideal situation is that any ambiguities of this nature should be detailed and clarified in the technical and executive regulations of the law. In reality, what was actually happening is that throughout the past thirty years, there was a tendency or propensity to issue regulations that are inconsistent with the laws under which they were issued. Many of these regulations could not even be viewed as they were never officially published. For any regulation to become valid and acquire the legitimacy of a valid law, it must be technically sound and contradict neither the law it was issued under nor the constitution. Most importantly, it must be published in the Official Ministry of Justice’s Gazette, which is not the case with the regulations interpreting the 1994 Urban Planning and Land Disposal act.31
The lack of transparency and the ambiguity of this law, and consequently the bureaucratic procedures, makes the task of monitoring the executive authority and safeguarding public interests next to impossible. How can people be expected to know that repurposing this square, or selling off this public space Was in violation of a law they weren’t aware of existing in the first place? This policy of keeping the general public in the dark is not a new concept to the Inqaz regime, rather it is the very tactic which enabled it to stay in power for thirty years, and this blackout is not limited to the land administration but extends to the entire body of the executive authority.
Governments’ policies towards public spaces reflect their appreciation of the public sphere in general, whether real or virtual, as a free venue to exchange opinions in an open society that interacts among itself. Public spaces are an integral part of this interaction process and an important stage for it to take place. Dictatorships always tend to restrict this interaction, driven by a survival instinct to fiercely defend their existence against the consequences of this free interaction. consequences that start with protesting a certain program or policy, to even protesting the existence of the dictatorship itself. On the other hand, and as the Washington Post’s slogan suggests, “democracy dies in darkness.” A healthy democracy can only be born in a sphere that is open and accessible to everyone in the society with no exceptions, and it cannot be sustained in the absence of public spaces that embrace people from all walks of life.
Main Artwork: Azza Mohamed
The production team for this episode are:
Research and Producer: Almuzn Mohammedelhassan, Mai Abusalih, and Zainab Gaafar.
Presenter and Poster Design: Azza Mohamed.
Script: Almuzn Mohammedelhassan, Mai Abusalih, Zainab Gaafar, and Husam Hilali.
Music: Zain Records.
Audio Mixing: Tariq Suliman.
Project Manager: Zainab Gaafar.
Equipment and technical assistance: elMastabaTV.
Recording studio: 404 Creative Design Studio.
Public spaces are a means of recreation and relaxation in a crowded, sprawling city like Khartoum. Throughout the past thirty years, the government’s policies towards public spaces and their use can be summed up in approximately three keywords: privatization, restriction of use, and alteration of purpose. It is possible to say that Khartoum’s reserve of squares and public spaces has gradually eroded during the years of the Inqaz Regime. Every so often citizens wake up to find this park or that public square sold off or leased to a private investor. Soon after the walls rise around it and the gates close on it, and the public sphere gradually narrows.
In this article, we’ll take a look at some of the active public spaces that have emerged spontaneously without any kind of formal planning, and the fate of the ones that are formally planned. We will explore the role public spaces had to play in the country’s political history, After which, with the help of some examples, we will inspect how privatization policies contributed to the loss of public spaces, and the legal aspect of this systemic campaign to strip the city of its public spaces.
It can be argued that public space actually begins at the threshold of the house. The term “Mastaba”, referring to a slightly elevated paved surface in front of a house, is often the stage for many social activities; such as Ramadan’s Iftar or children’s outdoor activities. Oftentimes it is designed and built along with the house as a natural extension of it. However, we will be focusing, at a larger scale, on the public squares, plazas, and parks, starting with those that emerged with little to no urban planning
Among the most famous public spaces, especially in recent years, is “Atené” square. Its popularity persists despite its small size, peculiar origin, and the fact that it’s not technically a public space. Furthermore, its visitors and the nature of their activities have a special image in the collective imagination. Much of this recent popularity can arguably be attributed to “Mafroosh”, a monthly bazaar for second-hand books that was held in the square regularly from 2012 until it was discontinued in 2015.
Coincidence had a major role to play in the conception and subsequent development of Atené Square as a public space. However, the square itself is not public property per se, but is rather part of a private property owned by the Abu El-ela family and was built during the Independence era (mid-1950s). Designed by N. Stephanis, the real estate includes five office buildings and is located at the intersection of Al-Qasr and Al-Gomhouria streets, one of the busiest intersections in the city, making it easily accessible from most of downtown Khartoum. Out of the five planned buildings, four were fully constructed while the plot in the center, which should have been the fifth building, remained empty except for a few short columns and the entrance and exit of the car parking in the basement. This space later became Atené Square. This central positioning made the square “immersed” between the other buildings, sheltering it from the noise of the nearby streets. The surrounding buildings cast their shade on the square since late afternoon, making it a suitable venue during the daytime, unlike other public squares or plazas that are exposed to direct radiation for most of the day. On top of all that, the square is surrounded -on three sides- by small shops and stores overlooking verandahs, making it active all day long, without getting too crowded.
Perhaps Atené’s property nature as private was its greatest advantage; it minimized the government – or governments’ -ability to expropriate it or restrict its use. This is a strange paradox. That it is Atené’s dependency on the private sector that protects its public use from government requisition! This paradox becomes evident given the story of “Mafroosh” Bazaar.
Mafroosh’s first event was held in May 2012, led by an initiative from Work Cultural Group, in the square chosen specifically for its symbolism, as it has been a meeting place of intellectuals for decades. The bazaar is based on a simple idea; On the first Tuesday of every month, about twenty to fifty booksellers display on the ground their merchandise of old, second-hand, new, rare, or forbidden books -hence the name Mfroosh that means to be laid on the ground in Arabic.2Transactions were carried out by either sale or books exchange. The bazaar attracted hundreds of visitors Of different ages and demographics, as it was a place to meet with friends and interact with others over a period of time that extended from early afternoon until nine in the evening. Sales were not limited to books, as handicrafts were also displayed, and it was accompanied by a musical performance every once in a while.
The bazaar was not sponsored by any government institution which did not pose any problem for the first two years. However, interference started soon after the restrictions that followed the crackdown of September 2013 protests. Organizers were hindered from holding the bazaar by trapping them in a series of bureaucratic procedures, under the pretext that they had to submit a list of every single book title to be displayed if they were to proceed with the event.3 A feat that is impossible for a bazaar centered around its visitors’ free exchange of their used books. After a hiatus lasting several years, Mafroosh was eventually brought back to the “Qiyadah” sit-in, after which it was held regularly in the National Museum.4
Mafroosh created a space for culture at a time when the restrictions imposed on it by the authorities were tightening, and the venues for public activities were shrinking. When the government was unable to get rid of the square by selling it off or barring public access to it, as is usually the case with “Actual” public squares, they proceeded to obstruct Mafroosh through the black hole of bureaucracy. It does not seem that the problem was with Mafroosh or Atené, insomuch as it was in the free space they provided. A space that dictatorial authority views as cancer that must be eradicated.
Another area in Khartoum that can be considered a product of happenstance is Khartoum’s Nile Street, which gradually became an important outlet for the city, fostering hundreds of small businesses relying on its existence as a public space frequented by all city’s inhabitants.
The privatization of the riverfront by opening it up to investment can be observed in the eastern-most segment of Nile Street. Between the Armed forces and Mansheya bridges, several privately owned facilities can be observed, such as Alnadi Alwatani (National club) or wedding venues. This pattern of encroachment on public space, which is only beginning in this part of Nile Street, is officially institutionalized in Khartoum’s Structural Plan (the latest urban plan for Greater Khartoum), specifically in the plan for the Muqran area and Al-Sunut forest. There is a clear orientation to transform the area into a concrete forest of some kind. The plan will densify the area and turn it into a business district, stacked with office towers.6 Most of the area between the Blue Nile and Nile Street will be privately owned, meaning that access to the riverfront will become a privilege and not a right in a city permeated by three rivers. A tender to implement the 25 years-long plan was opened to both local and international companies alike in 2005.7 It does not seem that a project such as Al-Muqran takes into consideration the fate of the aforementioned users of the space, be it the small businesses owners or their customers or regular visitors, not even the urban fabric of the city.
It is important to mention Mafroosh and Nile street in this context since they are arguably considered central public spaces, and because they were not planned but rather came into existence as a result of people’s needs and the way they utilized these spaces. For a brief while, however, the sit-in area in front of the General Armed Forces Command was the central “square” of the city. In one way or another, it showcased all the activities you would expect to find in a typical public square; a spontaneous meeting place for friends after work hours, a venue where big events and concerts are occasionally held, or a place where people would meet just for chatting and exchanging ideas and views. The sit-in area was spontaneously utilized for all these uses while people were occupying it, but the purpose that was intended the moment the crowds reached it, was to make their voice heard. It was a political intention that led them there.
This political intentionality is an important characteristic of the utilization of public space in Khartoum. The memory of the city with revolutions and civil movements is an old one. A memory that stretches back to even before independence. It is impossible to write about public space in a city like Khartoum, without bringing up those moments, when thousands of footsteps were engraved as a vivid memory still imprinted on the sidewalks, the dirt, and the asphalt of streets.
Abdel Moneim Square –which later came to be known as Nadi Alusra or The Family Club– was the first stage of the October 1964 Revolution, where the funeral prayer for the martyr al-Qurashi took place. The second stage being Al-Gamma Avenue, where, on the twenty-eighth of October, thousands of citizens headed towards the Republican Palace, crowding the surrounding streets.10The angry footsteps of protesters resonated on Al-Qasr Avenue during the April 1985 Revolution. They spilled out into the street from Khartoum’s main railway station all the way to the Palace.11 As for the “Qiada” (Army Headquarters) itself – the Center stage of the December 2018 revolution – it is not a square but a group of streets surrounding the General Armed forces Command, and as a gathering point for a number of main streets, it is one of the city’s central areas.
Suffice it to say that with the exception of Abdel Moneim Square, most of the civil movements took place in streets, and not the public squares. Why, then, were most major political events associated with the streets? Why Al-Gamma and Al Qasr Avenues, and not Abu Ginzeer Square, for example? After all, squares such as Al-Tahrir in Cairo or Tiananmen in Beijing were center stages for important political events. Is it because Khartoum is already short on public squares? Or because the existing squares have their own problems? What prevented these squares from being the stage of such events?
A brief historical overview of Khartoum’s central public squares, such as the former Abbas, The United Nations, and Abdel Moneim Squares, as well as the remaining ones like Abu Ginzeer Square, can give us an insight into the reasons behind this. The story of the United Nations, and Abdel Moneim squares, in particular, can shed a light on the policies of privatization and repurposing institutionalized by former governments. The greatest manifestation of the state’s hostile policies towards the existence of a freely accessible and active public venue, is the fact that Abdel Moneim Square was once a hub for rallies and civil movements in the 1950s and 60s, but this role gradually diminished until it completely disappeared from the collective imagination.
Let’s start first with Khartoum city’s first formally-planned square; Abbas Square (named after Khedive Abbas). It was the central square of Kitchener’s Khartoum, and it continued to serve as the main square of the steadily expanding city, with the Grand Mosque in its center -as typical in many Arab cities- surrounded by the main market. The square was split by Victoria Avenue, the widest in Khartoum back then.14 With the continuous expansion of the city, however, the square gradually shrank as the buildings crawled and swallowed it, until all that was left of the original square were two small squares: The United Nations and Abu Ginzeer Squares.
Abu Ginzeer Square is named after the owner of a grave surrounded by iron chains (Ginazeer) that was located at the center of the square. In recent years it was cordoned off by a fence, and during the recent December 2018 revolution security forces were stationed there. As if paramilitary forces occupying a public square -as the most blatant manifestation of state militarization- was not bad enough, the square was converted, during the December revolution, into a gathering point for protesters arrested during marches in Khartoum’s downtown, from which they are sent to various detention centers.16 17
The United Nations Square had multiple uses; the southern part of it was a football field, and the northern part had a vegetable market called al-Zinc Market. It withstood the changes until Nimeiri’s era after which it became Al-Quba Alkhadra (Green Dome) Library, which was later demolished and the Waha (Oasis) Towers were built on its site. 18 As for the reason behind the square’s name, it was where the United Nations flags were once raised.
Abdel Moneim Square is the main square of the Khartoum 3 neighborhood. Its plan contrasted significantly with Kitchener’s original Khartoum plan. In contrast to the uninterrupted iron grid, Khartoum 3 was laid out around a circular center represented by Abdel Moneim Square. As previously mentioned, in the fifties and sixties, the square was the stage for important events in the city’s memory. Events that exerted considerable influence on the rest of the country, as seen in the Al-Gezira farmers’ sit-in in the square. On the 29th of December 1953, twenty five thousand farmers from Al-Gezira region along with their families, occupied the Square and succeeded in forcing the government to recognize their union.19 Another significant event took place on the 17th of November 1958, when the representatives of Parliament met to vote on a “withdrawal of confidence” from Abdullah Bey Khalil’s government, who tried to impede their efforts by postponing the parliament session and handing over power to the army the next day.20 The aforementioned funeral procession of al-Qurashi, which marked the beginning of the end for Abboud’s regime, also took place in the square. Colleagues and professors of al-Qurashi -a student at the University of Khartoum at the time – along with the citizens, who joined them, marched carrying his body, all the way from Khartoum Hospital, along the Isbitalia Street and across Hurriya Bridge towards Khartoum 3 neighborhood, where they held his funeral prayers in the square. His body was then sent back to be buried at his hometown, Al-Qurassa village in Gezira state. 21
The square was later converted to Nadi Al-Usra (The Family Club.) Its considerable size allowed it to host various sports, social, and political activities. It included arenas and halls for various sports, including tennis, squash, and billiards. It also hosted many political seminars. Most importantly, it was a recreational destination for the families who lived in the neighborhood and nearby areas up until the early nineties. From then on, the authorities began to restrict its use, then began to gradually cut off pieces of land and reassign them to various other purposes; sometimes as headquarters for government institutions or security services, other times to be sold off to private investment.23 The fierce raid of privatization on the club makes more sense when considering the value of the land; the plot of land on which the club was built is among the most expensive in Khartoum.
What makes Abdel Moneim Square significant is that it can be viewed as a historical record for understanding the relationship between public space and the state. It was originally designed to serve the neighborhood’s level, and perhaps the nearby neighborhoods, not the city level. However, as evident from the history of the square, at some point it served a greater level than the city itself. The square also reveals the wasted potential of neighborhoods’ squares, as demonstrated by the period it was developed to house Nadi Al-usra. On top of it all, the square is an example of the hostility with which the state deals with public spaces, especially during the thirty years of the Inqaz era. This hostility created a clear pattern, evident in a systematic campaign to take over public squares, starting from the large city squares, to even neighborhood’s squares. The audacity of this takeover campaign reaches the limits of insolence in small squares scattered across neighborhoods, and far from the monitoring eyes of the public.
So how did neighborhoods’ squares fall prey to the greed of governments and private investors? To understand this we must answer a few questions: How was this expropriation trend initiated? And how did the urban planning of the city in general and the urban design of these very squares facilitate the continuation of this trend?
According to Dr. Osman Al-Khair, an architect and researcher specializing in the field of human settlements, It can be argued that the first seeds of this pattern were sown in Abboud’s regime, the first military dictatorship. During Abboud’s era, residential districts were planned with vastly spacious squares, e.g. Al-Thawrats in Omdurman. Later, during Nimeiri’s regime and its successive financial crises, the government turned its gaze toward these vast squares, with their land values increasing as they were now located in the center of the expanding city. Nimeiri’s administration began to slice off longitudinal strips of land from the squares’ perimeters and divide them into residential plots to be auctioned off. Since these squares were larger than the neighbourhoods’ needs, this step in and of itself was not problematic, as it was an attempt to control the urban sprawl of the city that was spiraling out of control. The problem is that this policy has opened the door wide for the expropriation of these squares.24
One of the most prominent factors facilitating this encroachment of neighborhoods’ squares, by making it difficult to notice and thus to take action against, is the fact that most of these squares are virtually deserted. The empty plots of land are devoid of life and rarely ever utilized, and if so, then mostly as a landfill or a shortcut. According to Dr. Othman Al-Khair, The abandonment and the subsequent desertion of these squares was likely a result of service facilities and commercial activities concentrating on the perimeter of the neighborhoods, to be closer to the asphalted main street. This resulted in the death of the neighborhoods’ inner center, which is usually where the square is situated. This desertion alienates it from the memory of the neighborhood’s residents, and thus further distances it from the eyes of public monitoring.25
Of course, this reasoning alone is not enough to completely account for the shrinking of these squares. However, when adding to all of the above an elastic planning law, with no clear checks and balances for the officials entrusted to implement it, and without regulations explaining it, the equation becomes complete to strip the neighborhoods of squares and the city itself of public spaces.
Perhaps shedding a light on some of the legal aspects concerning the planning and use of public space, can offer a glimpse into the previous regime’s perspective on public spaces. It can also further explain the reasons behind the vague and elastic bureaucratic procedures that hinder the protection of these spaces, thereby facilitating their grapping and privatization .
According to Salwa Abasam, A lawyer and an activist in civil society organizations, The current law regulating the planning and use of land is The 1994 Urban Planning and Land Disposal Act, that replaced The 1406 AH Land Disposal Act, The 1406 AH Urban Planning Act and The 1950 Town Replanning Act.26 The 1994 Act is brief, with only 49 articles, therefore, it needs a lot of explanatory and complementary regulations, and this is exactly where the problems with this law begin. But before we delve into these problems, we must have an understanding of the officials and institutions involved in implementing this law. First, there is The Federal Urban Planning and Land Disposal Council, which is the body primarily responsible for setting general policies and plans and overseeing their implementation. Then for each state, there is the Minister of Urban Planning and The State Planning Committee.27
Within the jurisdiction of the Supreme Council for Urban Planning, detailed in Article 8 of the 1994 Act, is to “Approve the change of field of land use…with the exception of public spaces and squares.”28 The jurisdiction to change the land use of public spaces was granted to the minister and the planning committee in their respective states, in accordance with Article 9, which defines the authorities of the minister, on whom also falls the task of approving directed maps. These maps detail the required services for the area as well as land use, including public spaces and squares. Article 9 grants the minister the authority to “recommend the change of use of public spaces and squares, for any purpose, where necessity requires the same.“29 and assigns the task of approving or rejecting this recommendation to the state planning committee; i.e. , it is the committee that determines what is a “necessity” that requires change. The odd contradiction is that the decisions of this committee are appealed by the minister himself. According to Article 42, The Minister also has the authority to “…dispose of the planned land the purposes of which have been specified, by way of preferential allotment…”30 The article regulates this allocation which goes through the same aforementioned procedure, of being approved or rejected by the state’s planning committee.
Now back to the problematic part of the law. Salwa Abasam explains that expressions such as “where necessity requires the same.” are loose, flexible, and can be interpreted at the whims of the executive authorities. The ideal situation is that any ambiguities of this nature should be detailed and clarified in the technical and executive regulations of the law. In reality, what was actually happening is that throughout the past thirty years, there was a tendency or propensity to issue regulations that are inconsistent with the laws under which they were issued. Many of these regulations could not even be viewed as they were never officially published. For any regulation to become valid and acquire the legitimacy of a valid law, it must be technically sound and contradict neither the law it was issued under nor the constitution. Most importantly, it must be published in the Official Ministry of Justice’s Gazette, which is not the case with the regulations interpreting the 1994 Urban Planning and Land Disposal act.31
The lack of transparency and the ambiguity of this law, and consequently the bureaucratic procedures, makes the task of monitoring the executive authority and safeguarding public interests next to impossible. How can people be expected to know that repurposing this square, or selling off this public space Was in violation of a law they weren’t aware of existing in the first place? This policy of keeping the general public in the dark is not a new concept to the Inqaz regime, rather it is the very tactic which enabled it to stay in power for thirty years, and this blackout is not limited to the land administration but extends to the entire body of the executive authority.
Governments’ policies towards public spaces reflect their appreciation of the public sphere in general, whether real or virtual, as a free venue to exchange opinions in an open society that interacts among itself. Public spaces are an integral part of this interaction process and an important stage for it to take place. Dictatorships always tend to restrict this interaction, driven by a survival instinct to fiercely defend their existence against the consequences of this free interaction. consequences that start with protesting a certain program or policy, to even protesting the existence of the dictatorship itself. On the other hand, and as the Washington Post’s slogan suggests, “democracy dies in darkness.” A healthy democracy can only be born in a sphere that is open and accessible to everyone in the society with no exceptions, and it cannot be sustained in the absence of public spaces that embrace people from all walks of life.
Main Artwork: Azza Mohamed
The production team for this episode are:
Research and Producer: Almuzn Mohammedelhassan, Mai Abusalih, and Zainab Gaafar.
Presenter and Poster Design: Azza Mohamed.
Script: Almuzn Mohammedelhassan, Mai Abusalih, Zainab Gaafar, and Husam Hilali.
Music: Zain Records.
Audio Mixing: Tariq Suliman.
Project Manager: Zainab Gaafar.
Equipment and technical assistance: elMastabaTV.
Recording studio: 404 Creative Design Studio.
Public spaces are a means of recreation and relaxation in a crowded, sprawling city like Khartoum. Throughout the past thirty years, the government’s policies towards public spaces and their use can be summed up in approximately three keywords: privatization, restriction of use, and alteration of purpose. It is possible to say that Khartoum’s reserve of squares and public spaces has gradually eroded during the years of the Inqaz Regime. Every so often citizens wake up to find this park or that public square sold off or leased to a private investor. Soon after the walls rise around it and the gates close on it, and the public sphere gradually narrows.
In this article, we’ll take a look at some of the active public spaces that have emerged spontaneously without any kind of formal planning, and the fate of the ones that are formally planned. We will explore the role public spaces had to play in the country’s political history, After which, with the help of some examples, we will inspect how privatization policies contributed to the loss of public spaces, and the legal aspect of this systemic campaign to strip the city of its public spaces.
It can be argued that public space actually begins at the threshold of the house. The term “Mastaba”, referring to a slightly elevated paved surface in front of a house, is often the stage for many social activities; such as Ramadan’s Iftar or children’s outdoor activities. Oftentimes it is designed and built along with the house as a natural extension of it. However, we will be focusing, at a larger scale, on the public squares, plazas, and parks, starting with those that emerged with little to no urban planning
Among the most famous public spaces, especially in recent years, is “Atené” square. Its popularity persists despite its small size, peculiar origin, and the fact that it’s not technically a public space. Furthermore, its visitors and the nature of their activities have a special image in the collective imagination. Much of this recent popularity can arguably be attributed to “Mafroosh”, a monthly bazaar for second-hand books that was held in the square regularly from 2012 until it was discontinued in 2015.
Coincidence had a major role to play in the conception and subsequent development of Atené Square as a public space. However, the square itself is not public property per se, but is rather part of a private property owned by the Abu El-ela family and was built during the Independence era (mid-1950s). Designed by N. Stephanis, the real estate includes five office buildings and is located at the intersection of Al-Qasr and Al-Gomhouria streets, one of the busiest intersections in the city, making it easily accessible from most of downtown Khartoum. Out of the five planned buildings, four were fully constructed while the plot in the center, which should have been the fifth building, remained empty except for a few short columns and the entrance and exit of the car parking in the basement. This space later became Atené Square. This central positioning made the square “immersed” between the other buildings, sheltering it from the noise of the nearby streets. The surrounding buildings cast their shade on the square since late afternoon, making it a suitable venue during the daytime, unlike other public squares or plazas that are exposed to direct radiation for most of the day. On top of all that, the square is surrounded -on three sides- by small shops and stores overlooking verandahs, making it active all day long, without getting too crowded.
Perhaps Atené’s property nature as private was its greatest advantage; it minimized the government – or governments’ -ability to expropriate it or restrict its use. This is a strange paradox. That it is Atené’s dependency on the private sector that protects its public use from government requisition! This paradox becomes evident given the story of “Mafroosh” Bazaar.
Mafroosh’s first event was held in May 2012, led by an initiative from Work Cultural Group, in the square chosen specifically for its symbolism, as it has been a meeting place of intellectuals for decades. The bazaar is based on a simple idea; On the first Tuesday of every month, about twenty to fifty booksellers display on the ground their merchandise of old, second-hand, new, rare, or forbidden books -hence the name Mfroosh that means to be laid on the ground in Arabic.2Transactions were carried out by either sale or books exchange. The bazaar attracted hundreds of visitors Of different ages and demographics, as it was a place to meet with friends and interact with others over a period of time that extended from early afternoon until nine in the evening. Sales were not limited to books, as handicrafts were also displayed, and it was accompanied by a musical performance every once in a while.
The bazaar was not sponsored by any government institution which did not pose any problem for the first two years. However, interference started soon after the restrictions that followed the crackdown of September 2013 protests. Organizers were hindered from holding the bazaar by trapping them in a series of bureaucratic procedures, under the pretext that they had to submit a list of every single book title to be displayed if they were to proceed with the event.3 A feat that is impossible for a bazaar centered around its visitors’ free exchange of their used books. After a hiatus lasting several years, Mafroosh was eventually brought back to the “Qiyadah” sit-in, after which it was held regularly in the National Museum.4
Mafroosh created a space for culture at a time when the restrictions imposed on it by the authorities were tightening, and the venues for public activities were shrinking. When the government was unable to get rid of the square by selling it off or barring public access to it, as is usually the case with “Actual” public squares, they proceeded to obstruct Mafroosh through the black hole of bureaucracy. It does not seem that the problem was with Mafroosh or Atené, insomuch as it was in the free space they provided. A space that dictatorial authority views as cancer that must be eradicated.
Another area in Khartoum that can be considered a product of happenstance is Khartoum’s Nile Street, which gradually became an important outlet for the city, fostering hundreds of small businesses relying on its existence as a public space frequented by all city’s inhabitants.
The privatization of the riverfront by opening it up to investment can be observed in the eastern-most segment of Nile Street. Between the Armed forces and Mansheya bridges, several privately owned facilities can be observed, such as Alnadi Alwatani (National club) or wedding venues. This pattern of encroachment on public space, which is only beginning in this part of Nile Street, is officially institutionalized in Khartoum’s Structural Plan (the latest urban plan for Greater Khartoum), specifically in the plan for the Muqran area and Al-Sunut forest. There is a clear orientation to transform the area into a concrete forest of some kind. The plan will densify the area and turn it into a business district, stacked with office towers.6 Most of the area between the Blue Nile and Nile Street will be privately owned, meaning that access to the riverfront will become a privilege and not a right in a city permeated by three rivers. A tender to implement the 25 years-long plan was opened to both local and international companies alike in 2005.7 It does not seem that a project such as Al-Muqran takes into consideration the fate of the aforementioned users of the space, be it the small businesses owners or their customers or regular visitors, not even the urban fabric of the city.
It is important to mention Mafroosh and Nile street in this context since they are arguably considered central public spaces, and because they were not planned but rather came into existence as a result of people’s needs and the way they utilized these spaces. For a brief while, however, the sit-in area in front of the General Armed Forces Command was the central “square” of the city. In one way or another, it showcased all the activities you would expect to find in a typical public square; a spontaneous meeting place for friends after work hours, a venue where big events and concerts are occasionally held, or a place where people would meet just for chatting and exchanging ideas and views. The sit-in area was spontaneously utilized for all these uses while people were occupying it, but the purpose that was intended the moment the crowds reached it, was to make their voice heard. It was a political intention that led them there.
This political intentionality is an important characteristic of the utilization of public space in Khartoum. The memory of the city with revolutions and civil movements is an old one. A memory that stretches back to even before independence. It is impossible to write about public space in a city like Khartoum, without bringing up those moments, when thousands of footsteps were engraved as a vivid memory still imprinted on the sidewalks, the dirt, and the asphalt of streets.
Abdel Moneim Square –which later came to be known as Nadi Alusra or The Family Club– was the first stage of the October 1964 Revolution, where the funeral prayer for the martyr al-Qurashi took place. The second stage being Al-Gamma Avenue, where, on the twenty-eighth of October, thousands of citizens headed towards the Republican Palace, crowding the surrounding streets.10The angry footsteps of protesters resonated on Al-Qasr Avenue during the April 1985 Revolution. They spilled out into the street from Khartoum’s main railway station all the way to the Palace.11 As for the “Qiada” (Army Headquarters) itself – the Center stage of the December 2018 revolution – it is not a square but a group of streets surrounding the General Armed forces Command, and as a gathering point for a number of main streets, it is one of the city’s central areas.
Suffice it to say that with the exception of Abdel Moneim Square, most of the civil movements took place in streets, and not the public squares. Why, then, were most major political events associated with the streets? Why Al-Gamma and Al Qasr Avenues, and not Abu Ginzeer Square, for example? After all, squares such as Al-Tahrir in Cairo or Tiananmen in Beijing were center stages for important political events. Is it because Khartoum is already short on public squares? Or because the existing squares have their own problems? What prevented these squares from being the stage of such events?
A brief historical overview of Khartoum’s central public squares, such as the former Abbas, The United Nations, and Abdel Moneim Squares, as well as the remaining ones like Abu Ginzeer Square, can give us an insight into the reasons behind this. The story of the United Nations, and Abdel Moneim squares, in particular, can shed a light on the policies of privatization and repurposing institutionalized by former governments. The greatest manifestation of the state’s hostile policies towards the existence of a freely accessible and active public venue, is the fact that Abdel Moneim Square was once a hub for rallies and civil movements in the 1950s and 60s, but this role gradually diminished until it completely disappeared from the collective imagination.
Let’s start first with Khartoum city’s first formally-planned square; Abbas Square (named after Khedive Abbas). It was the central square of Kitchener’s Khartoum, and it continued to serve as the main square of the steadily expanding city, with the Grand Mosque in its center -as typical in many Arab cities- surrounded by the main market. The square was split by Victoria Avenue, the widest in Khartoum back then.14 With the continuous expansion of the city, however, the square gradually shrank as the buildings crawled and swallowed it, until all that was left of the original square were two small squares: The United Nations and Abu Ginzeer Squares.
Abu Ginzeer Square is named after the owner of a grave surrounded by iron chains (Ginazeer) that was located at the center of the square. In recent years it was cordoned off by a fence, and during the recent December 2018 revolution security forces were stationed there. As if paramilitary forces occupying a public square -as the most blatant manifestation of state militarization- was not bad enough, the square was converted, during the December revolution, into a gathering point for protesters arrested during marches in Khartoum’s downtown, from which they are sent to various detention centers.16 17
The United Nations Square had multiple uses; the southern part of it was a football field, and the northern part had a vegetable market called al-Zinc Market. It withstood the changes until Nimeiri’s era after which it became Al-Quba Alkhadra (Green Dome) Library, which was later demolished and the Waha (Oasis) Towers were built on its site. 18 As for the reason behind the square’s name, it was where the United Nations flags were once raised.
Abdel Moneim Square is the main square of the Khartoum 3 neighborhood. Its plan contrasted significantly with Kitchener’s original Khartoum plan. In contrast to the uninterrupted iron grid, Khartoum 3 was laid out around a circular center represented by Abdel Moneim Square. As previously mentioned, in the fifties and sixties, the square was the stage for important events in the city’s memory. Events that exerted considerable influence on the rest of the country, as seen in the Al-Gezira farmers’ sit-in in the square. On the 29th of December 1953, twenty five thousand farmers from Al-Gezira region along with their families, occupied the Square and succeeded in forcing the government to recognize their union.19 Another significant event took place on the 17th of November 1958, when the representatives of Parliament met to vote on a “withdrawal of confidence” from Abdullah Bey Khalil’s government, who tried to impede their efforts by postponing the parliament session and handing over power to the army the next day.20 The aforementioned funeral procession of al-Qurashi, which marked the beginning of the end for Abboud’s regime, also took place in the square. Colleagues and professors of al-Qurashi -a student at the University of Khartoum at the time – along with the citizens, who joined them, marched carrying his body, all the way from Khartoum Hospital, along the Isbitalia Street and across Hurriya Bridge towards Khartoum 3 neighborhood, where they held his funeral prayers in the square. His body was then sent back to be buried at his hometown, Al-Qurassa village in Gezira state. 21
The square was later converted to Nadi Al-Usra (The Family Club.) Its considerable size allowed it to host various sports, social, and political activities. It included arenas and halls for various sports, including tennis, squash, and billiards. It also hosted many political seminars. Most importantly, it was a recreational destination for the families who lived in the neighborhood and nearby areas up until the early nineties. From then on, the authorities began to restrict its use, then began to gradually cut off pieces of land and reassign them to various other purposes; sometimes as headquarters for government institutions or security services, other times to be sold off to private investment.23 The fierce raid of privatization on the club makes more sense when considering the value of the land; the plot of land on which the club was built is among the most expensive in Khartoum.
What makes Abdel Moneim Square significant is that it can be viewed as a historical record for understanding the relationship between public space and the state. It was originally designed to serve the neighborhood’s level, and perhaps the nearby neighborhoods, not the city level. However, as evident from the history of the square, at some point it served a greater level than the city itself. The square also reveals the wasted potential of neighborhoods’ squares, as demonstrated by the period it was developed to house Nadi Al-usra. On top of it all, the square is an example of the hostility with which the state deals with public spaces, especially during the thirty years of the Inqaz era. This hostility created a clear pattern, evident in a systematic campaign to take over public squares, starting from the large city squares, to even neighborhood’s squares. The audacity of this takeover campaign reaches the limits of insolence in small squares scattered across neighborhoods, and far from the monitoring eyes of the public.
So how did neighborhoods’ squares fall prey to the greed of governments and private investors? To understand this we must answer a few questions: How was this expropriation trend initiated? And how did the urban planning of the city in general and the urban design of these very squares facilitate the continuation of this trend?
According to Dr. Osman Al-Khair, an architect and researcher specializing in the field of human settlements, It can be argued that the first seeds of this pattern were sown in Abboud’s regime, the first military dictatorship. During Abboud’s era, residential districts were planned with vastly spacious squares, e.g. Al-Thawrats in Omdurman. Later, during Nimeiri’s regime and its successive financial crises, the government turned its gaze toward these vast squares, with their land values increasing as they were now located in the center of the expanding city. Nimeiri’s administration began to slice off longitudinal strips of land from the squares’ perimeters and divide them into residential plots to be auctioned off. Since these squares were larger than the neighbourhoods’ needs, this step in and of itself was not problematic, as it was an attempt to control the urban sprawl of the city that was spiraling out of control. The problem is that this policy has opened the door wide for the expropriation of these squares.24
One of the most prominent factors facilitating this encroachment of neighborhoods’ squares, by making it difficult to notice and thus to take action against, is the fact that most of these squares are virtually deserted. The empty plots of land are devoid of life and rarely ever utilized, and if so, then mostly as a landfill or a shortcut. According to Dr. Othman Al-Khair, The abandonment and the subsequent desertion of these squares was likely a result of service facilities and commercial activities concentrating on the perimeter of the neighborhoods, to be closer to the asphalted main street. This resulted in the death of the neighborhoods’ inner center, which is usually where the square is situated. This desertion alienates it from the memory of the neighborhood’s residents, and thus further distances it from the eyes of public monitoring.25
Of course, this reasoning alone is not enough to completely account for the shrinking of these squares. However, when adding to all of the above an elastic planning law, with no clear checks and balances for the officials entrusted to implement it, and without regulations explaining it, the equation becomes complete to strip the neighborhoods of squares and the city itself of public spaces.
Perhaps shedding a light on some of the legal aspects concerning the planning and use of public space, can offer a glimpse into the previous regime’s perspective on public spaces. It can also further explain the reasons behind the vague and elastic bureaucratic procedures that hinder the protection of these spaces, thereby facilitating their grapping and privatization .
According to Salwa Abasam, A lawyer and an activist in civil society organizations, The current law regulating the planning and use of land is The 1994 Urban Planning and Land Disposal Act, that replaced The 1406 AH Land Disposal Act, The 1406 AH Urban Planning Act and The 1950 Town Replanning Act.26 The 1994 Act is brief, with only 49 articles, therefore, it needs a lot of explanatory and complementary regulations, and this is exactly where the problems with this law begin. But before we delve into these problems, we must have an understanding of the officials and institutions involved in implementing this law. First, there is The Federal Urban Planning and Land Disposal Council, which is the body primarily responsible for setting general policies and plans and overseeing their implementation. Then for each state, there is the Minister of Urban Planning and The State Planning Committee.27
Within the jurisdiction of the Supreme Council for Urban Planning, detailed in Article 8 of the 1994 Act, is to “Approve the change of field of land use…with the exception of public spaces and squares.”28 The jurisdiction to change the land use of public spaces was granted to the minister and the planning committee in their respective states, in accordance with Article 9, which defines the authorities of the minister, on whom also falls the task of approving directed maps. These maps detail the required services for the area as well as land use, including public spaces and squares. Article 9 grants the minister the authority to “recommend the change of use of public spaces and squares, for any purpose, where necessity requires the same.“29 and assigns the task of approving or rejecting this recommendation to the state planning committee; i.e. , it is the committee that determines what is a “necessity” that requires change. The odd contradiction is that the decisions of this committee are appealed by the minister himself. According to Article 42, The Minister also has the authority to “…dispose of the planned land the purposes of which have been specified, by way of preferential allotment…”30 The article regulates this allocation which goes through the same aforementioned procedure, of being approved or rejected by the state’s planning committee.
Now back to the problematic part of the law. Salwa Abasam explains that expressions such as “where necessity requires the same.” are loose, flexible, and can be interpreted at the whims of the executive authorities. The ideal situation is that any ambiguities of this nature should be detailed and clarified in the technical and executive regulations of the law. In reality, what was actually happening is that throughout the past thirty years, there was a tendency or propensity to issue regulations that are inconsistent with the laws under which they were issued. Many of these regulations could not even be viewed as they were never officially published. For any regulation to become valid and acquire the legitimacy of a valid law, it must be technically sound and contradict neither the law it was issued under nor the constitution. Most importantly, it must be published in the Official Ministry of Justice’s Gazette, which is not the case with the regulations interpreting the 1994 Urban Planning and Land Disposal act.31
The lack of transparency and the ambiguity of this law, and consequently the bureaucratic procedures, makes the task of monitoring the executive authority and safeguarding public interests next to impossible. How can people be expected to know that repurposing this square, or selling off this public space Was in violation of a law they weren’t aware of existing in the first place? This policy of keeping the general public in the dark is not a new concept to the Inqaz regime, rather it is the very tactic which enabled it to stay in power for thirty years, and this blackout is not limited to the land administration but extends to the entire body of the executive authority.
Governments’ policies towards public spaces reflect their appreciation of the public sphere in general, whether real or virtual, as a free venue to exchange opinions in an open society that interacts among itself. Public spaces are an integral part of this interaction process and an important stage for it to take place. Dictatorships always tend to restrict this interaction, driven by a survival instinct to fiercely defend their existence against the consequences of this free interaction. consequences that start with protesting a certain program or policy, to even protesting the existence of the dictatorship itself. On the other hand, and as the Washington Post’s slogan suggests, “democracy dies in darkness.” A healthy democracy can only be born in a sphere that is open and accessible to everyone in the society with no exceptions, and it cannot be sustained in the absence of public spaces that embrace people from all walks of life.
Main Artwork: Azza Mohamed
The Heroic Age in Sinnar
The Heroic Age in Sinnar
The Heroic Age in Sinnar, a summary by Dr Mohammed Abdullah Al-Hussein
Introduction:
The aim of this summary is to give a general idea of the contents of this important book. The Heroic Age in Sinnar is a book about the history of the Sultanate of Sinnar. The book was written by the American writer Jay Spaulding and translated by Ahmed al-Mutasim al-Sheikh and was published by the Khartoum Publishing Authority in 2010 as part of the "100 Books" series sponsored by the Ministry of Culture and Information in Khartoum, Sudan. The original version of the book was published in English in 1985. The book consists of three main sections titled ‘The King of the Nubian Muslims’, ‘The Principles of the Arabs’, and ‘To the Fire’, which are in turn divided into subsections.
Part One: ‘The King of the Nubian Muslims’
This part includes a background on the structure of power and society in the Sultanate, dealing with topics related to the Sultan, the court, and the ceremonial events at court. It also covers the origin of the Funj, their system of succession, the method of selecting the sultan, the sultan's relationship with the nobles and the system of distributing land among the nobles to ensure their loyalty. This part also highlights the administrative system and the powers of both the centre and the provinces. Finally, this part deals with the Sultanate’s subjects as the lowest in the hierarchy and their relationship with the nobles, who exercise direct authority over them on behalf of the centre with regards to taxes and services provided by the subjects to the nobles.
Part Two: ‘The Principles of the Arabs’
This part explains the opening up of the Funj state to foreign cultures in the north and east through trade relations, highlighting how this was a catalyst for cultural influence and exposure to Arab principles. In summary, the author discusses the beginning of the introduction of capitalism to the state’s institutions and its transactions, explaining that this occurred through the adoption of Islamic principles in financial transactions, the emergence of clerics as a middle class, and the rise of urban and religious centres, as the face of the new economic development adopted by the Sultanate. It refers to the emergence of the clerics as a class with mutual economic and political ties and interests with the authority. These included land grants, exemptions from taxes, and access to judicial powers.
This section also talks about those Spaulding called the warlords who were most likely, as the author points out, provincial rulers who had had the opportunity to acquire wealth and needed to protect it and had therefore formed their own armed slave units. The period also saw the beginnings of the transition into a patriarchal system and the creation of genealogies for the purpose of rising up the social ladder. This part of the book deals with the control of the Hamaj in 1762 as the beginning of the disintegration of the old order of the Funj state and the transition to a new order dominated by the middle class. The Hamaj relied heavily on the clergy who were assimilated into the middle class and appointed to gather taxes with prominent clerics being included in the Sultan's court. Finally, this part talks about the emergence of the network of trading companies following the Turkish invasion which aimed to control the market, trade and investment of all kinds.
By way of conclusion to this section, the author talks about how the Turks, after their invasion of Sudan, introduced the Jihadiyya system into the army meaning the new Turkish army was made up of slaves. During this period, northern merchants began to venture to the southern regions of Sinnar, occupying the vacuum created by the withdrawal of the Turks in search of gold. They were encouraged in their quest by the Turks, who had failed to obtain the large quantities of gold they expected. The migration of citizens from the north increased after the Turks introduced new methods of production in the irrigated areas of the north. The migration of northern merchants (Jalaba) to the south grew in response to the Turkish government providing protection for northern merchants, establishing sharia courts as well as a market for slaves and goods from southern Sinnar. The final part deals with the penetration of northern Jalaba into the south as well as in the south-eastern regions of Sinnar.
Part Three: ‘To the Fire’
The final section of the book deals with the era of the Hamaj, which the author describes as a bloody and highly complex period characterised by power struggles. It also deals with the biography of Abu Likaylik, providing insight into his character and the way in which he held the reins of power for the benefit of the Hamaj which produced profound changes in the structure of the state, particularly through his reliance on the clergy against the nobility. During the period following the death of Abu Likaylik, the coup leader, and Adlan, power began to disintegrate with the provinces turning against the centre. From 1803 to 1809, the power of the Hamaj began to disintegrate through power struggles, and real control came into the hands of the commanders of the slave cavalries. This section is filled with details of rebellions instigated by those seeking centralised power and of tribal conflicts during the final years of the eighteenth century and the commencement of the nineteenth century. It further details the tendency of the regions and tribes to become independent from the central authority until the Turks invaded the country.
A brief background to the book
The Heroic Age in Sinnar is one of the few books that deals with the history of the Funj in a comprehensive and in-depth manner. It is clear the author made a great effort to collect material from multiple and varied sources, mainly from the writings of foreign travellers or administrators as well as from local sources such as the manuscript of Katib al-Shuna and the book of Tabaqat Wad Dhaifallah. The content of the book is, therefore, rich in information. In addition, there are numerous angles of analysis which makes many of the conclusions the author reaches thought-provoking and to an extent, perhaps controversial. In my opinion, The Heroic Age in Sinnar is an indispensable book for any student, reader or follower of the history of the state of Sinnar.
I must point out that the book's rich and varied information has somewhat affected the organisation of the book, as the main headings sometimes do not accurately indicate the content of the information that falls under it, so the reader (especially the hurried or non-specialist) may find it difficult to follow and link events to each other.
The author did not consider Sinnari rule as a single period of time, as many of his predecessors did, but as two distinct eras: the Funj and the Hamaj. This distinction helped in recognising the characteristics of each phase and understanding the dynamics and circumstances that influenced each of them.
In his analysis, the author adopted an economic approach, to reveal the penetration of capitalism and the bourgeois nature of governance and administration, particularly in the second phase of the Sinnari State. These, he argues, were the factors that impacted various aspects of life under Hamaj rule, and indirectly led to the weakening of their grip on power.
The cover picture is the ruined palace of Sennar at the time of the Turkish conquest (1821). Voyage à Meroé by Frédéric Cailliaud © LeGabrie
The Heroic Age in Sinnar, a summary by Dr Mohammed Abdullah Al-Hussein
Introduction:
The aim of this summary is to give a general idea of the contents of this important book. The Heroic Age in Sinnar is a book about the history of the Sultanate of Sinnar. The book was written by the American writer Jay Spaulding and translated by Ahmed al-Mutasim al-Sheikh and was published by the Khartoum Publishing Authority in 2010 as part of the "100 Books" series sponsored by the Ministry of Culture and Information in Khartoum, Sudan. The original version of the book was published in English in 1985. The book consists of three main sections titled ‘The King of the Nubian Muslims’, ‘The Principles of the Arabs’, and ‘To the Fire’, which are in turn divided into subsections.
Part One: ‘The King of the Nubian Muslims’
This part includes a background on the structure of power and society in the Sultanate, dealing with topics related to the Sultan, the court, and the ceremonial events at court. It also covers the origin of the Funj, their system of succession, the method of selecting the sultan, the sultan's relationship with the nobles and the system of distributing land among the nobles to ensure their loyalty. This part also highlights the administrative system and the powers of both the centre and the provinces. Finally, this part deals with the Sultanate’s subjects as the lowest in the hierarchy and their relationship with the nobles, who exercise direct authority over them on behalf of the centre with regards to taxes and services provided by the subjects to the nobles.
Part Two: ‘The Principles of the Arabs’
This part explains the opening up of the Funj state to foreign cultures in the north and east through trade relations, highlighting how this was a catalyst for cultural influence and exposure to Arab principles. In summary, the author discusses the beginning of the introduction of capitalism to the state’s institutions and its transactions, explaining that this occurred through the adoption of Islamic principles in financial transactions, the emergence of clerics as a middle class, and the rise of urban and religious centres, as the face of the new economic development adopted by the Sultanate. It refers to the emergence of the clerics as a class with mutual economic and political ties and interests with the authority. These included land grants, exemptions from taxes, and access to judicial powers.
This section also talks about those Spaulding called the warlords who were most likely, as the author points out, provincial rulers who had had the opportunity to acquire wealth and needed to protect it and had therefore formed their own armed slave units. The period also saw the beginnings of the transition into a patriarchal system and the creation of genealogies for the purpose of rising up the social ladder. This part of the book deals with the control of the Hamaj in 1762 as the beginning of the disintegration of the old order of the Funj state and the transition to a new order dominated by the middle class. The Hamaj relied heavily on the clergy who were assimilated into the middle class and appointed to gather taxes with prominent clerics being included in the Sultan's court. Finally, this part talks about the emergence of the network of trading companies following the Turkish invasion which aimed to control the market, trade and investment of all kinds.
By way of conclusion to this section, the author talks about how the Turks, after their invasion of Sudan, introduced the Jihadiyya system into the army meaning the new Turkish army was made up of slaves. During this period, northern merchants began to venture to the southern regions of Sinnar, occupying the vacuum created by the withdrawal of the Turks in search of gold. They were encouraged in their quest by the Turks, who had failed to obtain the large quantities of gold they expected. The migration of citizens from the north increased after the Turks introduced new methods of production in the irrigated areas of the north. The migration of northern merchants (Jalaba) to the south grew in response to the Turkish government providing protection for northern merchants, establishing sharia courts as well as a market for slaves and goods from southern Sinnar. The final part deals with the penetration of northern Jalaba into the south as well as in the south-eastern regions of Sinnar.
Part Three: ‘To the Fire’
The final section of the book deals with the era of the Hamaj, which the author describes as a bloody and highly complex period characterised by power struggles. It also deals with the biography of Abu Likaylik, providing insight into his character and the way in which he held the reins of power for the benefit of the Hamaj which produced profound changes in the structure of the state, particularly through his reliance on the clergy against the nobility. During the period following the death of Abu Likaylik, the coup leader, and Adlan, power began to disintegrate with the provinces turning against the centre. From 1803 to 1809, the power of the Hamaj began to disintegrate through power struggles, and real control came into the hands of the commanders of the slave cavalries. This section is filled with details of rebellions instigated by those seeking centralised power and of tribal conflicts during the final years of the eighteenth century and the commencement of the nineteenth century. It further details the tendency of the regions and tribes to become independent from the central authority until the Turks invaded the country.
A brief background to the book
The Heroic Age in Sinnar is one of the few books that deals with the history of the Funj in a comprehensive and in-depth manner. It is clear the author made a great effort to collect material from multiple and varied sources, mainly from the writings of foreign travellers or administrators as well as from local sources such as the manuscript of Katib al-Shuna and the book of Tabaqat Wad Dhaifallah. The content of the book is, therefore, rich in information. In addition, there are numerous angles of analysis which makes many of the conclusions the author reaches thought-provoking and to an extent, perhaps controversial. In my opinion, The Heroic Age in Sinnar is an indispensable book for any student, reader or follower of the history of the state of Sinnar.
I must point out that the book's rich and varied information has somewhat affected the organisation of the book, as the main headings sometimes do not accurately indicate the content of the information that falls under it, so the reader (especially the hurried or non-specialist) may find it difficult to follow and link events to each other.
The author did not consider Sinnari rule as a single period of time, as many of his predecessors did, but as two distinct eras: the Funj and the Hamaj. This distinction helped in recognising the characteristics of each phase and understanding the dynamics and circumstances that influenced each of them.
In his analysis, the author adopted an economic approach, to reveal the penetration of capitalism and the bourgeois nature of governance and administration, particularly in the second phase of the Sinnari State. These, he argues, were the factors that impacted various aspects of life under Hamaj rule, and indirectly led to the weakening of their grip on power.
The cover picture is the ruined palace of Sennar at the time of the Turkish conquest (1821). Voyage à Meroé by Frédéric Cailliaud © LeGabrie
The Heroic Age in Sinnar, a summary by Dr Mohammed Abdullah Al-Hussein
Introduction:
The aim of this summary is to give a general idea of the contents of this important book. The Heroic Age in Sinnar is a book about the history of the Sultanate of Sinnar. The book was written by the American writer Jay Spaulding and translated by Ahmed al-Mutasim al-Sheikh and was published by the Khartoum Publishing Authority in 2010 as part of the "100 Books" series sponsored by the Ministry of Culture and Information in Khartoum, Sudan. The original version of the book was published in English in 1985. The book consists of three main sections titled ‘The King of the Nubian Muslims’, ‘The Principles of the Arabs’, and ‘To the Fire’, which are in turn divided into subsections.
Part One: ‘The King of the Nubian Muslims’
This part includes a background on the structure of power and society in the Sultanate, dealing with topics related to the Sultan, the court, and the ceremonial events at court. It also covers the origin of the Funj, their system of succession, the method of selecting the sultan, the sultan's relationship with the nobles and the system of distributing land among the nobles to ensure their loyalty. This part also highlights the administrative system and the powers of both the centre and the provinces. Finally, this part deals with the Sultanate’s subjects as the lowest in the hierarchy and their relationship with the nobles, who exercise direct authority over them on behalf of the centre with regards to taxes and services provided by the subjects to the nobles.
Part Two: ‘The Principles of the Arabs’
This part explains the opening up of the Funj state to foreign cultures in the north and east through trade relations, highlighting how this was a catalyst for cultural influence and exposure to Arab principles. In summary, the author discusses the beginning of the introduction of capitalism to the state’s institutions and its transactions, explaining that this occurred through the adoption of Islamic principles in financial transactions, the emergence of clerics as a middle class, and the rise of urban and religious centres, as the face of the new economic development adopted by the Sultanate. It refers to the emergence of the clerics as a class with mutual economic and political ties and interests with the authority. These included land grants, exemptions from taxes, and access to judicial powers.
This section also talks about those Spaulding called the warlords who were most likely, as the author points out, provincial rulers who had had the opportunity to acquire wealth and needed to protect it and had therefore formed their own armed slave units. The period also saw the beginnings of the transition into a patriarchal system and the creation of genealogies for the purpose of rising up the social ladder. This part of the book deals with the control of the Hamaj in 1762 as the beginning of the disintegration of the old order of the Funj state and the transition to a new order dominated by the middle class. The Hamaj relied heavily on the clergy who were assimilated into the middle class and appointed to gather taxes with prominent clerics being included in the Sultan's court. Finally, this part talks about the emergence of the network of trading companies following the Turkish invasion which aimed to control the market, trade and investment of all kinds.
By way of conclusion to this section, the author talks about how the Turks, after their invasion of Sudan, introduced the Jihadiyya system into the army meaning the new Turkish army was made up of slaves. During this period, northern merchants began to venture to the southern regions of Sinnar, occupying the vacuum created by the withdrawal of the Turks in search of gold. They were encouraged in their quest by the Turks, who had failed to obtain the large quantities of gold they expected. The migration of citizens from the north increased after the Turks introduced new methods of production in the irrigated areas of the north. The migration of northern merchants (Jalaba) to the south grew in response to the Turkish government providing protection for northern merchants, establishing sharia courts as well as a market for slaves and goods from southern Sinnar. The final part deals with the penetration of northern Jalaba into the south as well as in the south-eastern regions of Sinnar.
Part Three: ‘To the Fire’
The final section of the book deals with the era of the Hamaj, which the author describes as a bloody and highly complex period characterised by power struggles. It also deals with the biography of Abu Likaylik, providing insight into his character and the way in which he held the reins of power for the benefit of the Hamaj which produced profound changes in the structure of the state, particularly through his reliance on the clergy against the nobility. During the period following the death of Abu Likaylik, the coup leader, and Adlan, power began to disintegrate with the provinces turning against the centre. From 1803 to 1809, the power of the Hamaj began to disintegrate through power struggles, and real control came into the hands of the commanders of the slave cavalries. This section is filled with details of rebellions instigated by those seeking centralised power and of tribal conflicts during the final years of the eighteenth century and the commencement of the nineteenth century. It further details the tendency of the regions and tribes to become independent from the central authority until the Turks invaded the country.
A brief background to the book
The Heroic Age in Sinnar is one of the few books that deals with the history of the Funj in a comprehensive and in-depth manner. It is clear the author made a great effort to collect material from multiple and varied sources, mainly from the writings of foreign travellers or administrators as well as from local sources such as the manuscript of Katib al-Shuna and the book of Tabaqat Wad Dhaifallah. The content of the book is, therefore, rich in information. In addition, there are numerous angles of analysis which makes many of the conclusions the author reaches thought-provoking and to an extent, perhaps controversial. In my opinion, The Heroic Age in Sinnar is an indispensable book for any student, reader or follower of the history of the state of Sinnar.
I must point out that the book's rich and varied information has somewhat affected the organisation of the book, as the main headings sometimes do not accurately indicate the content of the information that falls under it, so the reader (especially the hurried or non-specialist) may find it difficult to follow and link events to each other.
The author did not consider Sinnari rule as a single period of time, as many of his predecessors did, but as two distinct eras: the Funj and the Hamaj. This distinction helped in recognising the characteristics of each phase and understanding the dynamics and circumstances that influenced each of them.
In his analysis, the author adopted an economic approach, to reveal the penetration of capitalism and the bourgeois nature of governance and administration, particularly in the second phase of the Sinnari State. These, he argues, were the factors that impacted various aspects of life under Hamaj rule, and indirectly led to the weakening of their grip on power.
The cover picture is the ruined palace of Sennar at the time of the Turkish conquest (1821). Voyage à Meroé by Frédéric Cailliaud © LeGabrie
Cities on canvas
Cities on canvas
Sidahmed Mohamed Al-Hassan
A Sudanese visual artist, he studied engineering and left it to study arts, where he obtained a Bachelor’s degree with distinction in drawing and painting from the College of Arts, and won the award for the best graduation project in the College of Arts in 2016.
He published a scientific paper in the Human Sciences Journal of Sudan University, and he worked as a teaching assistant in the College of Art Education in 2017. In his work, he is interested in the transformations that society is experiencing and expressing them in new visual ways. He has won a number of awards and grants, and his works have been exhibited in Sudan, Egypt, and Tunisia. He is also currently participating in the 2024 Venice Biennale.
Said Ahmed's work can be found on the following pages:
Instagram: saidahmed_artist
Facebook page: Said Ahmed
YouTube channel: Said Ahmed
Khalid Abdel Rahman
Khalid Abdulrahman is a self-taught artist, he was born in Khartoum, Sudan, in 1978, where he lived his entire life, except for short travels. After the war broke out in Sudan in April 2023 he decided to move to Cairo, Egypt to continue pursuing his career.
Khalid prefers using traditional mediums of drawing and painting to express his artistic ideas. His work explores his relationship with the spaces he lived in, through landscapes, urban scapes, and architectural details.
He participated in several group exhibitions in Khartoum, Kampala, Cairo, Nairobi, Cape Town, and other cities, he also held six solo exhibitions in Khartoum, New Orleans, and Nairobi.
Khalid Abdulrahman's work can be found on the following pages:
Instagram: khalid_rahman_art
Artsy: Khalid Abdel Rahman
Griselda El Tayib
Born in London in 1925, Griselda El Tayib came to Sudan in 1951 and was involved in setting up the curriculum for teaching art at Sudanese girls’ schools where she also taught the subject. Griselda’s art is mostly representational using watercolours. Her work has been exhibited in Sudan, Nigeria, Morocco, Britain, America, and most recently at the Sharjah Art Foundation’s 2016 comprehensive exhibition of Pioneers of Sudanese Art. Griselda died in Khartoum in 2022.
Information about the late Griselda El Tayib can be found on the Sudan Memory website
Mustafa Muiz
Mustafa was born in Omdurman in 1968. He graduated from the College of Fine and Applied Art in 1995 specializing in graphic design. Mustafa’s scenes of Khartoum are often stylised in pen and black ink and occasionally in watercolour or acrylic paints. He has exhibited in Nigeria, the UAE, and Sudan. Mustafa taught at the Khartoum College of Applied Sciences and the Comboni Secondary School.
Mohammed Ibrahim (Wd Eljack)
Wd Eljack was born in Atbara, White Nile State in 1967. He attended the Sudan University for Sciences and Technology graduating in 1994 with a degree in printing and binding. He teaches art at college level and is a freelance designer. Wd Eljack’s main medium is pastel but he also uses acrylic and oil paints. His art has been exhibited around Sudan and in the UAE and China. Wd ElJack is a member of the Terab Comedy Group.
Salih Abdel Rahman
Born in Bahri, Khartoum North in 1987, Salih was educated in Jabayt in eastern Sudan before joining the Sudan University of Sciences and Technology’s Faculty of Education from where he graduated specializing in painting and calligraphy. His scenes of the city in watercolour, coffee, and charcoal are mostly realistic and have been exhibited in Sudan and abroad.
Salih Abdel Rahman's work can be found on the following page:
Facebook page: Salih Abdo
Cover painting: Khartoum Grand Mosque Maidan Abu Jinzir, published in a calendar © Griselda El Tayib
Sidahmed Mohamed Al-Hassan
A Sudanese visual artist, he studied engineering and left it to study arts, where he obtained a Bachelor’s degree with distinction in drawing and painting from the College of Arts, and won the award for the best graduation project in the College of Arts in 2016.
He published a scientific paper in the Human Sciences Journal of Sudan University, and he worked as a teaching assistant in the College of Art Education in 2017. In his work, he is interested in the transformations that society is experiencing and expressing them in new visual ways. He has won a number of awards and grants, and his works have been exhibited in Sudan, Egypt, and Tunisia. He is also currently participating in the 2024 Venice Biennale.
Said Ahmed's work can be found on the following pages:
Instagram: saidahmed_artist
Facebook page: Said Ahmed
YouTube channel: Said Ahmed
Khalid Abdel Rahman
Khalid Abdulrahman is a self-taught artist, he was born in Khartoum, Sudan, in 1978, where he lived his entire life, except for short travels. After the war broke out in Sudan in April 2023 he decided to move to Cairo, Egypt to continue pursuing his career.
Khalid prefers using traditional mediums of drawing and painting to express his artistic ideas. His work explores his relationship with the spaces he lived in, through landscapes, urban scapes, and architectural details.
He participated in several group exhibitions in Khartoum, Kampala, Cairo, Nairobi, Cape Town, and other cities, he also held six solo exhibitions in Khartoum, New Orleans, and Nairobi.
Khalid Abdulrahman's work can be found on the following pages:
Instagram: khalid_rahman_art
Artsy: Khalid Abdel Rahman
Griselda El Tayib
Born in London in 1925, Griselda El Tayib came to Sudan in 1951 and was involved in setting up the curriculum for teaching art at Sudanese girls’ schools where she also taught the subject. Griselda’s art is mostly representational using watercolours. Her work has been exhibited in Sudan, Nigeria, Morocco, Britain, America, and most recently at the Sharjah Art Foundation’s 2016 comprehensive exhibition of Pioneers of Sudanese Art. Griselda died in Khartoum in 2022.
Information about the late Griselda El Tayib can be found on the Sudan Memory website
Mustafa Muiz
Mustafa was born in Omdurman in 1968. He graduated from the College of Fine and Applied Art in 1995 specializing in graphic design. Mustafa’s scenes of Khartoum are often stylised in pen and black ink and occasionally in watercolour or acrylic paints. He has exhibited in Nigeria, the UAE, and Sudan. Mustafa taught at the Khartoum College of Applied Sciences and the Comboni Secondary School.
Mohammed Ibrahim (Wd Eljack)
Wd Eljack was born in Atbara, White Nile State in 1967. He attended the Sudan University for Sciences and Technology graduating in 1994 with a degree in printing and binding. He teaches art at college level and is a freelance designer. Wd Eljack’s main medium is pastel but he also uses acrylic and oil paints. His art has been exhibited around Sudan and in the UAE and China. Wd ElJack is a member of the Terab Comedy Group.
Salih Abdel Rahman
Born in Bahri, Khartoum North in 1987, Salih was educated in Jabayt in eastern Sudan before joining the Sudan University of Sciences and Technology’s Faculty of Education from where he graduated specializing in painting and calligraphy. His scenes of the city in watercolour, coffee, and charcoal are mostly realistic and have been exhibited in Sudan and abroad.
Salih Abdel Rahman's work can be found on the following page:
Facebook page: Salih Abdo
Cover painting: Khartoum Grand Mosque Maidan Abu Jinzir, published in a calendar © Griselda El Tayib
Sidahmed Mohamed Al-Hassan
A Sudanese visual artist, he studied engineering and left it to study arts, where he obtained a Bachelor’s degree with distinction in drawing and painting from the College of Arts, and won the award for the best graduation project in the College of Arts in 2016.
He published a scientific paper in the Human Sciences Journal of Sudan University, and he worked as a teaching assistant in the College of Art Education in 2017. In his work, he is interested in the transformations that society is experiencing and expressing them in new visual ways. He has won a number of awards and grants, and his works have been exhibited in Sudan, Egypt, and Tunisia. He is also currently participating in the 2024 Venice Biennale.
Said Ahmed's work can be found on the following pages:
Instagram: saidahmed_artist
Facebook page: Said Ahmed
YouTube channel: Said Ahmed
Khalid Abdel Rahman
Khalid Abdulrahman is a self-taught artist, he was born in Khartoum, Sudan, in 1978, where he lived his entire life, except for short travels. After the war broke out in Sudan in April 2023 he decided to move to Cairo, Egypt to continue pursuing his career.
Khalid prefers using traditional mediums of drawing and painting to express his artistic ideas. His work explores his relationship with the spaces he lived in, through landscapes, urban scapes, and architectural details.
He participated in several group exhibitions in Khartoum, Kampala, Cairo, Nairobi, Cape Town, and other cities, he also held six solo exhibitions in Khartoum, New Orleans, and Nairobi.
Khalid Abdulrahman's work can be found on the following pages:
Instagram: khalid_rahman_art
Artsy: Khalid Abdel Rahman
Griselda El Tayib
Born in London in 1925, Griselda El Tayib came to Sudan in 1951 and was involved in setting up the curriculum for teaching art at Sudanese girls’ schools where she also taught the subject. Griselda’s art is mostly representational using watercolours. Her work has been exhibited in Sudan, Nigeria, Morocco, Britain, America, and most recently at the Sharjah Art Foundation’s 2016 comprehensive exhibition of Pioneers of Sudanese Art. Griselda died in Khartoum in 2022.
Information about the late Griselda El Tayib can be found on the Sudan Memory website
Mustafa Muiz
Mustafa was born in Omdurman in 1968. He graduated from the College of Fine and Applied Art in 1995 specializing in graphic design. Mustafa’s scenes of Khartoum are often stylised in pen and black ink and occasionally in watercolour or acrylic paints. He has exhibited in Nigeria, the UAE, and Sudan. Mustafa taught at the Khartoum College of Applied Sciences and the Comboni Secondary School.
Mohammed Ibrahim (Wd Eljack)
Wd Eljack was born in Atbara, White Nile State in 1967. He attended the Sudan University for Sciences and Technology graduating in 1994 with a degree in printing and binding. He teaches art at college level and is a freelance designer. Wd Eljack’s main medium is pastel but he also uses acrylic and oil paints. His art has been exhibited around Sudan and in the UAE and China. Wd ElJack is a member of the Terab Comedy Group.
Salih Abdel Rahman
Born in Bahri, Khartoum North in 1987, Salih was educated in Jabayt in eastern Sudan before joining the Sudan University of Sciences and Technology’s Faculty of Education from where he graduated specializing in painting and calligraphy. His scenes of the city in watercolour, coffee, and charcoal are mostly realistic and have been exhibited in Sudan and abroad.
Salih Abdel Rahman's work can be found on the following page:
Facebook page: Salih Abdo
Cover painting: Khartoum Grand Mosque Maidan Abu Jinzir, published in a calendar © Griselda El Tayib
A city playlist
A city playlist
Creating a playlist that features songs about different cities from the Sudanese music scene is a wonderful way to explore the country's rich cultural tapestry through its music. Sudanese music is deeply rooted in the country's diverse cultural heritage, and many artists draw inspiration from various cities, each with its own unique stories and rhythms.
Sudanese music is characterized by its rich diversity, blending traditional African rhythms, Arabic melodies, and modern influences. The country's varied geography and history are often reflected in its music, with each region contributing distinct sounds and styles.
This playlist not only showcases the musical talents of Sudanese artists but also serves as a cultural journey through the country's cities, each with its unique story and ambiance. Whether you're a longtime fan of Sudanese music or a newcomer, this playlist offers a deep and melodic exploration of Sudan's urban landscapes.
Feel free to add more songs or artists that capture the spirit of different cities in Sudan, as the music scene is always evolving and offering new gems.
Cover image © Mohammed Ibrahim (Wd Eljack)
Creating a playlist that features songs about different cities from the Sudanese music scene is a wonderful way to explore the country's rich cultural tapestry through its music. Sudanese music is deeply rooted in the country's diverse cultural heritage, and many artists draw inspiration from various cities, each with its own unique stories and rhythms.
Sudanese music is characterized by its rich diversity, blending traditional African rhythms, Arabic melodies, and modern influences. The country's varied geography and history are often reflected in its music, with each region contributing distinct sounds and styles.
This playlist not only showcases the musical talents of Sudanese artists but also serves as a cultural journey through the country's cities, each with its unique story and ambiance. Whether you're a longtime fan of Sudanese music or a newcomer, this playlist offers a deep and melodic exploration of Sudan's urban landscapes.
Feel free to add more songs or artists that capture the spirit of different cities in Sudan, as the music scene is always evolving and offering new gems.
Cover image © Mohammed Ibrahim (Wd Eljack)
Creating a playlist that features songs about different cities from the Sudanese music scene is a wonderful way to explore the country's rich cultural tapestry through its music. Sudanese music is deeply rooted in the country's diverse cultural heritage, and many artists draw inspiration from various cities, each with its own unique stories and rhythms.
Sudanese music is characterized by its rich diversity, blending traditional African rhythms, Arabic melodies, and modern influences. The country's varied geography and history are often reflected in its music, with each region contributing distinct sounds and styles.
This playlist not only showcases the musical talents of Sudanese artists but also serves as a cultural journey through the country's cities, each with its unique story and ambiance. Whether you're a longtime fan of Sudanese music or a newcomer, this playlist offers a deep and melodic exploration of Sudan's urban landscapes.
Feel free to add more songs or artists that capture the spirit of different cities in Sudan, as the music scene is always evolving and offering new gems.
Cover image © Mohammed Ibrahim (Wd Eljack)
The book of Khartoum
The book of Khartoum
The History of Khartoum, written by historian Dr Mohamed Ibrahim Abu Salim, was published in 1979 and is considered one of the most important modern references on the urban planning history of Greater Khartoum to this day. Dr Abu Salim joined the Sudan Archive Service which, at the time, was a small department specialised in preserving documents at the Ministry of Interior. He then developed the department into what became the National Records Office. Abu Salim received his PhD in Philosophy of History from the University of Khartoum in 1966. His name and career are associated with the development of documentation and historiography in Sudan.
In his introduction, Dr Abu Salim mentions that the bulk of the “Book of Khartoum" was gathered from a collection of articles published in the Khartoum Magazine, which was published by the Ministry of National Guidance in Sudan at the time. Dr Abu Salim relied on many sources including Sudan’s National Records Office, the University of Khartoum Library, the Egyptian Book House and the Arab National Archives in Cairo.
The Khartoum Magazine did not only focus on the city of Khartoum, but dealt with a variety of topics and included articles, stories, anecdotes and poems from all of Sudan’s cities. Articles in the magazine included ‘The New Khartoum’ and ‘The Extensions of Khartoum’ written by Dr Abu Salim, as well as other articles by other experts and writers. The articles were not limited to a historical description or account of the cities, but also touched on issues related to the processes of urbanisation and city planning that were taking place in the city at that time.
The following is an excerpt from the article ‘The Extensions of Khartoum’ in which Dr Abu Salim comments on the damage caused by the increase in land distribution to low-income citizens:
‘As this article appears at a time when the state is distributing land to low-income people, we should point out that housing is an important aspect of human life, especially in a country where almost everyone has a house to live in; whether it is made of straw, leather or mud, a house is a necessary factor for stability and mental well-being. However, there are problems behind increased land distribution, perhaps the most important of which is that the distribution creates a class of owners, especially now that the general trend is to own property for rent and benefit financially from it, and this actually means that many of the savings of cities will be converted into houses that may not find anyone to rent them. In addition to that, many people who do not have the financial means to build, will receive plots of land, and will have to borrow funds, whether they are civil servants or any others. This will in turn mean that this class of already burdened citizens will be in more debt and I also fear that over time increases in construction costs and materials, will become a burden on the poor.
In order to prevent or minimise these risks, the state should not insist that the construction be done within a specific time, but rather allow for longer timeframes so that the poor can build little by little and limit the rise in prices and costs. It should also provide building materials, especially local materials, and make them accessible to the poor.’
Khartoum Magazine, issue No. 6, March 1967, (p. 76)
The History of Khartoum, written by historian Dr Mohamed Ibrahim Abu Salim, was published in 1979 and is considered one of the most important modern references on the urban planning history of Greater Khartoum to this day. Dr Abu Salim joined the Sudan Archive Service which, at the time, was a small department specialised in preserving documents at the Ministry of Interior. He then developed the department into what became the National Records Office. Abu Salim received his PhD in Philosophy of History from the University of Khartoum in 1966. His name and career are associated with the development of documentation and historiography in Sudan.
In his introduction, Dr Abu Salim mentions that the bulk of the “Book of Khartoum" was gathered from a collection of articles published in the Khartoum Magazine, which was published by the Ministry of National Guidance in Sudan at the time. Dr Abu Salim relied on many sources including Sudan’s National Records Office, the University of Khartoum Library, the Egyptian Book House and the Arab National Archives in Cairo.
The Khartoum Magazine did not only focus on the city of Khartoum, but dealt with a variety of topics and included articles, stories, anecdotes and poems from all of Sudan’s cities. Articles in the magazine included ‘The New Khartoum’ and ‘The Extensions of Khartoum’ written by Dr Abu Salim, as well as other articles by other experts and writers. The articles were not limited to a historical description or account of the cities, but also touched on issues related to the processes of urbanisation and city planning that were taking place in the city at that time.
The following is an excerpt from the article ‘The Extensions of Khartoum’ in which Dr Abu Salim comments on the damage caused by the increase in land distribution to low-income citizens:
‘As this article appears at a time when the state is distributing land to low-income people, we should point out that housing is an important aspect of human life, especially in a country where almost everyone has a house to live in; whether it is made of straw, leather or mud, a house is a necessary factor for stability and mental well-being. However, there are problems behind increased land distribution, perhaps the most important of which is that the distribution creates a class of owners, especially now that the general trend is to own property for rent and benefit financially from it, and this actually means that many of the savings of cities will be converted into houses that may not find anyone to rent them. In addition to that, many people who do not have the financial means to build, will receive plots of land, and will have to borrow funds, whether they are civil servants or any others. This will in turn mean that this class of already burdened citizens will be in more debt and I also fear that over time increases in construction costs and materials, will become a burden on the poor.
In order to prevent or minimise these risks, the state should not insist that the construction be done within a specific time, but rather allow for longer timeframes so that the poor can build little by little and limit the rise in prices and costs. It should also provide building materials, especially local materials, and make them accessible to the poor.’
Khartoum Magazine, issue No. 6, March 1967, (p. 76)
The History of Khartoum, written by historian Dr Mohamed Ibrahim Abu Salim, was published in 1979 and is considered one of the most important modern references on the urban planning history of Greater Khartoum to this day. Dr Abu Salim joined the Sudan Archive Service which, at the time, was a small department specialised in preserving documents at the Ministry of Interior. He then developed the department into what became the National Records Office. Abu Salim received his PhD in Philosophy of History from the University of Khartoum in 1966. His name and career are associated with the development of documentation and historiography in Sudan.
In his introduction, Dr Abu Salim mentions that the bulk of the “Book of Khartoum" was gathered from a collection of articles published in the Khartoum Magazine, which was published by the Ministry of National Guidance in Sudan at the time. Dr Abu Salim relied on many sources including Sudan’s National Records Office, the University of Khartoum Library, the Egyptian Book House and the Arab National Archives in Cairo.
The Khartoum Magazine did not only focus on the city of Khartoum, but dealt with a variety of topics and included articles, stories, anecdotes and poems from all of Sudan’s cities. Articles in the magazine included ‘The New Khartoum’ and ‘The Extensions of Khartoum’ written by Dr Abu Salim, as well as other articles by other experts and writers. The articles were not limited to a historical description or account of the cities, but also touched on issues related to the processes of urbanisation and city planning that were taking place in the city at that time.
The following is an excerpt from the article ‘The Extensions of Khartoum’ in which Dr Abu Salim comments on the damage caused by the increase in land distribution to low-income citizens:
‘As this article appears at a time when the state is distributing land to low-income people, we should point out that housing is an important aspect of human life, especially in a country where almost everyone has a house to live in; whether it is made of straw, leather or mud, a house is a necessary factor for stability and mental well-being. However, there are problems behind increased land distribution, perhaps the most important of which is that the distribution creates a class of owners, especially now that the general trend is to own property for rent and benefit financially from it, and this actually means that many of the savings of cities will be converted into houses that may not find anyone to rent them. In addition to that, many people who do not have the financial means to build, will receive plots of land, and will have to borrow funds, whether they are civil servants or any others. This will in turn mean that this class of already burdened citizens will be in more debt and I also fear that over time increases in construction costs and materials, will become a burden on the poor.
In order to prevent or minimise these risks, the state should not insist that the construction be done within a specific time, but rather allow for longer timeframes so that the poor can build little by little and limit the rise in prices and costs. It should also provide building materials, especially local materials, and make them accessible to the poor.’
Khartoum Magazine, issue No. 6, March 1967, (p. 76)
Sudan's virtual cities
Sudan's virtual cities
According to the Human Geography Lab Manual cities are characterised by having ‘downtown areas, buildings, highways, and other transportation networks.’ They also have ‘businesses, a large population, and a unique cultural landscape.’ In the age of social media and ubiquitous online platforms, can we say we are living in virtual cities identifiable by the same, or similar, characteristics as physical cities? And if so, is there a city, or cities, inhabited specifically by a Sudanese public.
The popularity of social media platforms as a means of communicating between Sudanese is evident for example in the way the sites are used in lieu of physical closeness during social occasions. Sending a weeping emoji or a voice message of crying and lamenting the loss of a loved as is done during the bikka via the favoured WhatsApp site to offer condolences to the family of a deceased is extremely common. These virtual ‘highways,’ bring one person in contact with another or a group of others. And it is in this collective space of WhatsApp groups, Club House rooms or X’s spaces, that these social media sites start to resemble physical cities. People with a particular connection or interest come together to discuss, find out news or buy items or services the familiar way they head to physical buildings to do the same.
This is a city whose downtown areas are sites like TikTok, where the excitement of the 24-hour entertainment space, attracts young Sudanese wherever they. The older, educated elites meanwhile gather in their virtual ‘cafes’ to theorise and pontificate about how to solve all of Sudan’s problems. As for businesses, these have thrived with traffic in this area mostly being driven towards Facebook accounts advertising their goods or services. From the latest fashion in women’s tobs to Eid biscuits, from property to cars and a plethora of services. This is a marketplace open to all so long as you have the ‘vehicle’ of access to internet and website.
This virtual city has the capacity to channel its users either knowingly, or via inbuilt algorithms, into the proverbial ghettos of echo chambers where they are cut off from the multiplicities of culture, language and ethnicity that characterise the centres of cities. And just like in the real world, only those who have the tools and means to get into and engage with the city can actually reap its benefits. Thus, while many Sudanese are ‘online’, many more are not. However, these unrepresented individuals and sometimes ‘neighbourhoods’ often have access via a relative or friend or when social media crosses over to print and broadcast media where it is talked and written about.
The unique cultural landscape of the virtual Sudanese city is arguably distinguishable by its idiosyncrasies and cultural and linguistic references and mannerisms. Hashtags are created to boost the latest trends and events using words that resonate with the targeted Sudanese audience. And now since the outbreak of war, this virtual Sudanese city has taken on a new more visceral significance as a place where the literal loss of the city with its familiarity and sense of belonging can be compensated even in a small way.
Cover image © Sara Elnagar
According to the Human Geography Lab Manual cities are characterised by having ‘downtown areas, buildings, highways, and other transportation networks.’ They also have ‘businesses, a large population, and a unique cultural landscape.’ In the age of social media and ubiquitous online platforms, can we say we are living in virtual cities identifiable by the same, or similar, characteristics as physical cities? And if so, is there a city, or cities, inhabited specifically by a Sudanese public.
The popularity of social media platforms as a means of communicating between Sudanese is evident for example in the way the sites are used in lieu of physical closeness during social occasions. Sending a weeping emoji or a voice message of crying and lamenting the loss of a loved as is done during the bikka via the favoured WhatsApp site to offer condolences to the family of a deceased is extremely common. These virtual ‘highways,’ bring one person in contact with another or a group of others. And it is in this collective space of WhatsApp groups, Club House rooms or X’s spaces, that these social media sites start to resemble physical cities. People with a particular connection or interest come together to discuss, find out news or buy items or services the familiar way they head to physical buildings to do the same.
This is a city whose downtown areas are sites like TikTok, where the excitement of the 24-hour entertainment space, attracts young Sudanese wherever they. The older, educated elites meanwhile gather in their virtual ‘cafes’ to theorise and pontificate about how to solve all of Sudan’s problems. As for businesses, these have thrived with traffic in this area mostly being driven towards Facebook accounts advertising their goods or services. From the latest fashion in women’s tobs to Eid biscuits, from property to cars and a plethora of services. This is a marketplace open to all so long as you have the ‘vehicle’ of access to internet and website.
This virtual city has the capacity to channel its users either knowingly, or via inbuilt algorithms, into the proverbial ghettos of echo chambers where they are cut off from the multiplicities of culture, language and ethnicity that characterise the centres of cities. And just like in the real world, only those who have the tools and means to get into and engage with the city can actually reap its benefits. Thus, while many Sudanese are ‘online’, many more are not. However, these unrepresented individuals and sometimes ‘neighbourhoods’ often have access via a relative or friend or when social media crosses over to print and broadcast media where it is talked and written about.
The unique cultural landscape of the virtual Sudanese city is arguably distinguishable by its idiosyncrasies and cultural and linguistic references and mannerisms. Hashtags are created to boost the latest trends and events using words that resonate with the targeted Sudanese audience. And now since the outbreak of war, this virtual Sudanese city has taken on a new more visceral significance as a place where the literal loss of the city with its familiarity and sense of belonging can be compensated even in a small way.
Cover image © Sara Elnagar
According to the Human Geography Lab Manual cities are characterised by having ‘downtown areas, buildings, highways, and other transportation networks.’ They also have ‘businesses, a large population, and a unique cultural landscape.’ In the age of social media and ubiquitous online platforms, can we say we are living in virtual cities identifiable by the same, or similar, characteristics as physical cities? And if so, is there a city, or cities, inhabited specifically by a Sudanese public.
The popularity of social media platforms as a means of communicating between Sudanese is evident for example in the way the sites are used in lieu of physical closeness during social occasions. Sending a weeping emoji or a voice message of crying and lamenting the loss of a loved as is done during the bikka via the favoured WhatsApp site to offer condolences to the family of a deceased is extremely common. These virtual ‘highways,’ bring one person in contact with another or a group of others. And it is in this collective space of WhatsApp groups, Club House rooms or X’s spaces, that these social media sites start to resemble physical cities. People with a particular connection or interest come together to discuss, find out news or buy items or services the familiar way they head to physical buildings to do the same.
This is a city whose downtown areas are sites like TikTok, where the excitement of the 24-hour entertainment space, attracts young Sudanese wherever they. The older, educated elites meanwhile gather in their virtual ‘cafes’ to theorise and pontificate about how to solve all of Sudan’s problems. As for businesses, these have thrived with traffic in this area mostly being driven towards Facebook accounts advertising their goods or services. From the latest fashion in women’s tobs to Eid biscuits, from property to cars and a plethora of services. This is a marketplace open to all so long as you have the ‘vehicle’ of access to internet and website.
This virtual city has the capacity to channel its users either knowingly, or via inbuilt algorithms, into the proverbial ghettos of echo chambers where they are cut off from the multiplicities of culture, language and ethnicity that characterise the centres of cities. And just like in the real world, only those who have the tools and means to get into and engage with the city can actually reap its benefits. Thus, while many Sudanese are ‘online’, many more are not. However, these unrepresented individuals and sometimes ‘neighbourhoods’ often have access via a relative or friend or when social media crosses over to print and broadcast media where it is talked and written about.
The unique cultural landscape of the virtual Sudanese city is arguably distinguishable by its idiosyncrasies and cultural and linguistic references and mannerisms. Hashtags are created to boost the latest trends and events using words that resonate with the targeted Sudanese audience. And now since the outbreak of war, this virtual Sudanese city has taken on a new more visceral significance as a place where the literal loss of the city with its familiarity and sense of belonging can be compensated even in a small way.
Cover image © Sara Elnagar
An urban myth
An urban myth
Miadan AlKhalifa
Upon the death of Gordon Pasha, a British officer, the Mahdi forces ended Turkish rule over the land known now as Sudan on January 26, 1885. The Mahdi was a religious leader who led a revolution against the Turks between 1881 and 1885. The Sudanese people were united during his time, but he passed away shortly after Gordon and didn't live to see his Islamic state.
The Khalifa, the successor of the Mahdi, became responsible for establishing the new Mahdia state, the capital of which was Omdurman. In a span of 13 years, Omdurman grew from nothing to a human buzzing city, spanning six miles along the Nile. The spot where the Mahdi chose as his residence and later became his grave and tomb was the nucleus from which the city sprouted. To the south of the Mahdi's abode the Khalifa built his house/government building and to the west he built the largest structure in the city, the Khalifa’s mosque. Designed to hold 10 thousand souls in prayer. The mosque had a stone wall, painted limestone white, a Mihrab, and it was partially roofed. To the west the women were separated from men by a line of trees. The only thing that remained were the stone walls after the British invasion in 1898. Throughout the past century, the mosque has undergone many changes and been given many different names and uses.
I am sharing my experiences of encountering many people, trying to find out what this place has been through over time.
Memories within a memory
It was an afternoon, nothing special about it, I just took the wrong bus and found myself standing in front of Maidan Al-Khalifa, it was the Mawlid season. You can tell it’s Mawlid from the exquisite pop-up candy stalls that literally pop-up out of nowhere at the beginning of Rabi’ Al-Awwal the third month of the Islamic lunar year.
The hot pink coloured candy is a visual overdose when you first peer into those stalls, rows upon rows of pink dyed statues, along with a variety of overly sweet sweets. Many people have many unpleasant theories about its manufacturing process and where it came from and how it shouldn’t be allowed to be food. Like many unpleasant theories you close your eyes and pretend you haven’t heard…
Two kilos of that please sir!
Now I took a look at the Maidan behind the stalls. The huge square that is depressingly brown all year is now every color but brown. Tents of Sufi Tariqas have been set up in their designated sections for the twelve days of religious festivities.
Right in the centre of the Maidan stand three very tall concrete structures. A full range of Mawlid decorations were hanging from it. Those structures have always caught my attention, but the decorations made me curious about them.
What are those? I asked a young man sitting in the slim shadow of the three wall-like structures.
I don’t know. He replied. We hang the decorations on them every year.
If you ask me, that's a lot of concrete for a structure that's intended to hang seasonal decorations.
…..
I walk into an archive that is normally very difficult to access. It took many letters and many signatures to finally be able to sit in a room that some estimates say holds over two million pictures. I am handed a huge volume titled Khartoum. I flip through 1,700 something pictures showing different important buildings. They have at least two dozen pictures on the parelemnt and an entire section on Omdurman market.
Finally, I see the Maidan, but this time there’s nothing brown about it, or I think there’s nothing brown about it. It was a black and white picture, yet you can still see trees in grayscale. The three huge structures in question turned out to be a monument. Now I see it! They are part of the landscape even.
Can I take a picture? I ask the old man (there is always an old man, they come in the default scene settings in Sudan).
No you cannot!
But I have a signed paper.
Not enough, that paper has to be signed by another person and that person’s signature has to go past another person and that other person has to….
I just took a mental screenshot of the photograph and left.
…..
In a lecture room at a university stands Dr Osman Elkhair. The lecture was about how the two cities Omdurman and Khartoum were formed and how they juxtapose next to each other, the iron grid of the Tropical European Utopia contrasted with the organic cultural capital on the west of the Nile. Dr Osman explained how the Khalifa distributed large land allotments separated by roads that then expanded inwardly leaving no room for shared public spaces.
Dr Osman!
Yes?
Did you know that Maidan Al-Mawlid was a park?
Did I know? I worked on that project when I was a young architect. It was such a fabulous idea. You know Omdurman does not have any public spaces and to use that huge area as a green heart for the town would have changed it completely.
But why does the park not exist anymore?
I don’t know.
How about the monument, what was it for?
I don’t remember.
I looked up the Italian architecture company that Dr. Osman said was behind the fabulous idea. I found no pictures and certainly nothing about the monument.
…..
I stand in a room that is full to the brim with artefacts, posters and students, a room I am sure was not intended for hosting any of these subjects. Three schools sent their students to visit the Khalifa house, now a museum, and forgot to call beforehand. The museum was closed for restorations so the head of the Maidan committee, a descendent of the Khalifa, has turned his office into a mini museum and took the liberty of explaining the history of Mahdia, his history, to the young minds. Each class waited in a batch until they were allowed inside.
We waited our turn as well sitting in the now back-at-being-brown Maidan while looking at new car drivers being trained and horses being walked around. The horses looked maybe too much in their natural habitat.
The large sign said the Maidan size is 470 arm lengths by 295 arm lengths. Who's arms did they use to measure that? Is that person’s job? is to be a measuring tool? Do they get called to measure something when it is needed?
It’s now our turn to enter the room, looking at all the trinkets and posters hanging right under the ceiling.
I turn around and ask the old man (another old man), do you remember when the Maidan was turned into a park?
Do I remember? I was one of the people who opposed that terrible decision!
Why?
Because it’s a mosque and not a public space, just because it doesn’t have a roof now you assume its a square, it’s a mosque even if it doesn’t look like it.
So what happened?
Nimary took down the original wall and they built this new metal fence, they built the monument and made the landscape, we sued him and won the case and I personally watched as they removed everything, the concrete monument however was impossible to be removed…
“I am sure he only wanted to use the place to bury people.” Says a passer-byer that we didn’t even see coming.
What makes you say that?
There are rumors that under the monument there are rooms.
And dead bodies was the first thing that came to your mind? Did you see them?
No! But what else would they be made for?
It’s a tall structure, it maybe needs such a structure underneath the ground to hold it.
I don’t know...
How about the monument, what was it for?
Something about heroes.
…..
I decided to try my luck with the archives again, this time a more supposedly accessible archive. I sit in front of a woman whose job is to decide for you what you should access which is always anything but the things you want to really see. After I explained what I was looking for, she suggested I read Abusalim’s Khartoum book. He was the person who established the archives and wrote a lot of books from the documents they have. Abusalim said plenty about the Maidan, like it was built in phases, first straw then mud then stone. The Maidan was always used for religious celebrations and demonstrating the Khalifa’s army power, since it was in the heart of the city. It has the strategic location of being at the end of many roads, one of which was made for marching the Khalifa's army and the road was named after the march “Arda”, another road was made for the army to depart the city through, it was also named after the army departing the city, the departing road “Hijra”. In another book in the archives Wingate drew this quirky sketch of the mosque showing each tribe and where they used to stand in the time of prayer. Supposedly that method was used to take attendance and make sure everyone was there and not plotting something somewhere else.
…..
I posted a question online as a last resort: Does anyone know what the monument on Maidan Al-Mawlid stood for?
A number of monument-related responses were received, but none were about the monument I requested.
There were steel obelisks that people remembered at different intersections. Was it one or were they 3? They might have been mobile monuments for all that matters. Some remembered a canon, others Statius of a Badri, some said it was the son others said it was the father.
What they all had in common, apart from the one I asked about, was that none of them exist today.
I tried my luck again asking in a Facebook group for old pictures collectors. The answers came in fragments, scattered between comments shouting political agenda. Commenters said the decision to turn the mosque into a park is not divorced from the political dispute between Nimery and the Mahdi family, the entire event is looked at as an attempt to erase the history of the space and the Mahdia heritage. As for the monument, the story goes is that in the late Seventies, the Mosque was turned into a park called Heroes' Square. The monument, known as the monument of heroes, was covered in white marble from top to bottom, with stairways leading to it, giving the illusion that the landscape reached the sky.
Someone suggested I watch a music video for Abul Azeez Mohammed Daoud, Alfina Mashhouda, “what’s within us (our greatness) is known", a song about the bravery of the Sudanese people. The music video shows footage of many sites of historical locations and pictures of none other than the monument I have been long looking for. The three structures were surrounded by three-dimensional paintings showing scenes from different battles. And the towering marbled structure reflecting the sunlight in between.
…..
Back in front of the Maidan years after that first visit again during the Mawlid time. The voices of the strategically placed speakers in the Baladia building behind me however are trying to drown out the sound of recitations and chants coming from the Maidan. Men's voices can be heard excommunicating everyone in the Maidan and calling for the termination of the festivals.
Dozens of children lounge on a tiny roundabout with a ball in the middle located right between the sounds coming from both sides. The children however don’t seem to be bothered by the excessive use of freedom of speech.
Military use, market, an attempted park and a space for religious celebrations as well as anti-religious celebrations demonstrations, a fabulous idea, a terrible decision, a mysterious monument and devilish conspiracy theories, a mini museum and horse training track, a short cut for the people trapped by one-way nightmare of roads.
Among all of this what I can truly say is the brown tinted square isn’t as dead as it looks after all.
This piece was first published in 2022 under the name Maidan Alkhalifa in the book Until We Meet, Edited and Published by Locale and Waraq
Miadan AlKhalifa
Upon the death of Gordon Pasha, a British officer, the Mahdi forces ended Turkish rule over the land known now as Sudan on January 26, 1885. The Mahdi was a religious leader who led a revolution against the Turks between 1881 and 1885. The Sudanese people were united during his time, but he passed away shortly after Gordon and didn't live to see his Islamic state.
The Khalifa, the successor of the Mahdi, became responsible for establishing the new Mahdia state, the capital of which was Omdurman. In a span of 13 years, Omdurman grew from nothing to a human buzzing city, spanning six miles along the Nile. The spot where the Mahdi chose as his residence and later became his grave and tomb was the nucleus from which the city sprouted. To the south of the Mahdi's abode the Khalifa built his house/government building and to the west he built the largest structure in the city, the Khalifa’s mosque. Designed to hold 10 thousand souls in prayer. The mosque had a stone wall, painted limestone white, a Mihrab, and it was partially roofed. To the west the women were separated from men by a line of trees. The only thing that remained were the stone walls after the British invasion in 1898. Throughout the past century, the mosque has undergone many changes and been given many different names and uses.
I am sharing my experiences of encountering many people, trying to find out what this place has been through over time.
Memories within a memory
It was an afternoon, nothing special about it, I just took the wrong bus and found myself standing in front of Maidan Al-Khalifa, it was the Mawlid season. You can tell it’s Mawlid from the exquisite pop-up candy stalls that literally pop-up out of nowhere at the beginning of Rabi’ Al-Awwal the third month of the Islamic lunar year.
The hot pink coloured candy is a visual overdose when you first peer into those stalls, rows upon rows of pink dyed statues, along with a variety of overly sweet sweets. Many people have many unpleasant theories about its manufacturing process and where it came from and how it shouldn’t be allowed to be food. Like many unpleasant theories you close your eyes and pretend you haven’t heard…
Two kilos of that please sir!
Now I took a look at the Maidan behind the stalls. The huge square that is depressingly brown all year is now every color but brown. Tents of Sufi Tariqas have been set up in their designated sections for the twelve days of religious festivities.
Right in the centre of the Maidan stand three very tall concrete structures. A full range of Mawlid decorations were hanging from it. Those structures have always caught my attention, but the decorations made me curious about them.
What are those? I asked a young man sitting in the slim shadow of the three wall-like structures.
I don’t know. He replied. We hang the decorations on them every year.
If you ask me, that's a lot of concrete for a structure that's intended to hang seasonal decorations.
…..
I walk into an archive that is normally very difficult to access. It took many letters and many signatures to finally be able to sit in a room that some estimates say holds over two million pictures. I am handed a huge volume titled Khartoum. I flip through 1,700 something pictures showing different important buildings. They have at least two dozen pictures on the parelemnt and an entire section on Omdurman market.
Finally, I see the Maidan, but this time there’s nothing brown about it, or I think there’s nothing brown about it. It was a black and white picture, yet you can still see trees in grayscale. The three huge structures in question turned out to be a monument. Now I see it! They are part of the landscape even.
Can I take a picture? I ask the old man (there is always an old man, they come in the default scene settings in Sudan).
No you cannot!
But I have a signed paper.
Not enough, that paper has to be signed by another person and that person’s signature has to go past another person and that other person has to….
I just took a mental screenshot of the photograph and left.
…..
In a lecture room at a university stands Dr Osman Elkhair. The lecture was about how the two cities Omdurman and Khartoum were formed and how they juxtapose next to each other, the iron grid of the Tropical European Utopia contrasted with the organic cultural capital on the west of the Nile. Dr Osman explained how the Khalifa distributed large land allotments separated by roads that then expanded inwardly leaving no room for shared public spaces.
Dr Osman!
Yes?
Did you know that Maidan Al-Mawlid was a park?
Did I know? I worked on that project when I was a young architect. It was such a fabulous idea. You know Omdurman does not have any public spaces and to use that huge area as a green heart for the town would have changed it completely.
But why does the park not exist anymore?
I don’t know.
How about the monument, what was it for?
I don’t remember.
I looked up the Italian architecture company that Dr. Osman said was behind the fabulous idea. I found no pictures and certainly nothing about the monument.
…..
I stand in a room that is full to the brim with artefacts, posters and students, a room I am sure was not intended for hosting any of these subjects. Three schools sent their students to visit the Khalifa house, now a museum, and forgot to call beforehand. The museum was closed for restorations so the head of the Maidan committee, a descendent of the Khalifa, has turned his office into a mini museum and took the liberty of explaining the history of Mahdia, his history, to the young minds. Each class waited in a batch until they were allowed inside.
We waited our turn as well sitting in the now back-at-being-brown Maidan while looking at new car drivers being trained and horses being walked around. The horses looked maybe too much in their natural habitat.
The large sign said the Maidan size is 470 arm lengths by 295 arm lengths. Who's arms did they use to measure that? Is that person’s job? is to be a measuring tool? Do they get called to measure something when it is needed?
It’s now our turn to enter the room, looking at all the trinkets and posters hanging right under the ceiling.
I turn around and ask the old man (another old man), do you remember when the Maidan was turned into a park?
Do I remember? I was one of the people who opposed that terrible decision!
Why?
Because it’s a mosque and not a public space, just because it doesn’t have a roof now you assume its a square, it’s a mosque even if it doesn’t look like it.
So what happened?
Nimary took down the original wall and they built this new metal fence, they built the monument and made the landscape, we sued him and won the case and I personally watched as they removed everything, the concrete monument however was impossible to be removed…
“I am sure he only wanted to use the place to bury people.” Says a passer-byer that we didn’t even see coming.
What makes you say that?
There are rumors that under the monument there are rooms.
And dead bodies was the first thing that came to your mind? Did you see them?
No! But what else would they be made for?
It’s a tall structure, it maybe needs such a structure underneath the ground to hold it.
I don’t know...
How about the monument, what was it for?
Something about heroes.
…..
I decided to try my luck with the archives again, this time a more supposedly accessible archive. I sit in front of a woman whose job is to decide for you what you should access which is always anything but the things you want to really see. After I explained what I was looking for, she suggested I read Abusalim’s Khartoum book. He was the person who established the archives and wrote a lot of books from the documents they have. Abusalim said plenty about the Maidan, like it was built in phases, first straw then mud then stone. The Maidan was always used for religious celebrations and demonstrating the Khalifa’s army power, since it was in the heart of the city. It has the strategic location of being at the end of many roads, one of which was made for marching the Khalifa's army and the road was named after the march “Arda”, another road was made for the army to depart the city through, it was also named after the army departing the city, the departing road “Hijra”. In another book in the archives Wingate drew this quirky sketch of the mosque showing each tribe and where they used to stand in the time of prayer. Supposedly that method was used to take attendance and make sure everyone was there and not plotting something somewhere else.
…..
I posted a question online as a last resort: Does anyone know what the monument on Maidan Al-Mawlid stood for?
A number of monument-related responses were received, but none were about the monument I requested.
There were steel obelisks that people remembered at different intersections. Was it one or were they 3? They might have been mobile monuments for all that matters. Some remembered a canon, others Statius of a Badri, some said it was the son others said it was the father.
What they all had in common, apart from the one I asked about, was that none of them exist today.
I tried my luck again asking in a Facebook group for old pictures collectors. The answers came in fragments, scattered between comments shouting political agenda. Commenters said the decision to turn the mosque into a park is not divorced from the political dispute between Nimery and the Mahdi family, the entire event is looked at as an attempt to erase the history of the space and the Mahdia heritage. As for the monument, the story goes is that in the late Seventies, the Mosque was turned into a park called Heroes' Square. The monument, known as the monument of heroes, was covered in white marble from top to bottom, with stairways leading to it, giving the illusion that the landscape reached the sky.
Someone suggested I watch a music video for Abul Azeez Mohammed Daoud, Alfina Mashhouda, “what’s within us (our greatness) is known", a song about the bravery of the Sudanese people. The music video shows footage of many sites of historical locations and pictures of none other than the monument I have been long looking for. The three structures were surrounded by three-dimensional paintings showing scenes from different battles. And the towering marbled structure reflecting the sunlight in between.
…..
Back in front of the Maidan years after that first visit again during the Mawlid time. The voices of the strategically placed speakers in the Baladia building behind me however are trying to drown out the sound of recitations and chants coming from the Maidan. Men's voices can be heard excommunicating everyone in the Maidan and calling for the termination of the festivals.
Dozens of children lounge on a tiny roundabout with a ball in the middle located right between the sounds coming from both sides. The children however don’t seem to be bothered by the excessive use of freedom of speech.
Military use, market, an attempted park and a space for religious celebrations as well as anti-religious celebrations demonstrations, a fabulous idea, a terrible decision, a mysterious monument and devilish conspiracy theories, a mini museum and horse training track, a short cut for the people trapped by one-way nightmare of roads.
Among all of this what I can truly say is the brown tinted square isn’t as dead as it looks after all.
This piece was first published in 2022 under the name Maidan Alkhalifa in the book Until We Meet, Edited and Published by Locale and Waraq
Miadan AlKhalifa
Upon the death of Gordon Pasha, a British officer, the Mahdi forces ended Turkish rule over the land known now as Sudan on January 26, 1885. The Mahdi was a religious leader who led a revolution against the Turks between 1881 and 1885. The Sudanese people were united during his time, but he passed away shortly after Gordon and didn't live to see his Islamic state.
The Khalifa, the successor of the Mahdi, became responsible for establishing the new Mahdia state, the capital of which was Omdurman. In a span of 13 years, Omdurman grew from nothing to a human buzzing city, spanning six miles along the Nile. The spot where the Mahdi chose as his residence and later became his grave and tomb was the nucleus from which the city sprouted. To the south of the Mahdi's abode the Khalifa built his house/government building and to the west he built the largest structure in the city, the Khalifa’s mosque. Designed to hold 10 thousand souls in prayer. The mosque had a stone wall, painted limestone white, a Mihrab, and it was partially roofed. To the west the women were separated from men by a line of trees. The only thing that remained were the stone walls after the British invasion in 1898. Throughout the past century, the mosque has undergone many changes and been given many different names and uses.
I am sharing my experiences of encountering many people, trying to find out what this place has been through over time.
Memories within a memory
It was an afternoon, nothing special about it, I just took the wrong bus and found myself standing in front of Maidan Al-Khalifa, it was the Mawlid season. You can tell it’s Mawlid from the exquisite pop-up candy stalls that literally pop-up out of nowhere at the beginning of Rabi’ Al-Awwal the third month of the Islamic lunar year.
The hot pink coloured candy is a visual overdose when you first peer into those stalls, rows upon rows of pink dyed statues, along with a variety of overly sweet sweets. Many people have many unpleasant theories about its manufacturing process and where it came from and how it shouldn’t be allowed to be food. Like many unpleasant theories you close your eyes and pretend you haven’t heard…
Two kilos of that please sir!
Now I took a look at the Maidan behind the stalls. The huge square that is depressingly brown all year is now every color but brown. Tents of Sufi Tariqas have been set up in their designated sections for the twelve days of religious festivities.
Right in the centre of the Maidan stand three very tall concrete structures. A full range of Mawlid decorations were hanging from it. Those structures have always caught my attention, but the decorations made me curious about them.
What are those? I asked a young man sitting in the slim shadow of the three wall-like structures.
I don’t know. He replied. We hang the decorations on them every year.
If you ask me, that's a lot of concrete for a structure that's intended to hang seasonal decorations.
…..
I walk into an archive that is normally very difficult to access. It took many letters and many signatures to finally be able to sit in a room that some estimates say holds over two million pictures. I am handed a huge volume titled Khartoum. I flip through 1,700 something pictures showing different important buildings. They have at least two dozen pictures on the parelemnt and an entire section on Omdurman market.
Finally, I see the Maidan, but this time there’s nothing brown about it, or I think there’s nothing brown about it. It was a black and white picture, yet you can still see trees in grayscale. The three huge structures in question turned out to be a monument. Now I see it! They are part of the landscape even.
Can I take a picture? I ask the old man (there is always an old man, they come in the default scene settings in Sudan).
No you cannot!
But I have a signed paper.
Not enough, that paper has to be signed by another person and that person’s signature has to go past another person and that other person has to….
I just took a mental screenshot of the photograph and left.
…..
In a lecture room at a university stands Dr Osman Elkhair. The lecture was about how the two cities Omdurman and Khartoum were formed and how they juxtapose next to each other, the iron grid of the Tropical European Utopia contrasted with the organic cultural capital on the west of the Nile. Dr Osman explained how the Khalifa distributed large land allotments separated by roads that then expanded inwardly leaving no room for shared public spaces.
Dr Osman!
Yes?
Did you know that Maidan Al-Mawlid was a park?
Did I know? I worked on that project when I was a young architect. It was such a fabulous idea. You know Omdurman does not have any public spaces and to use that huge area as a green heart for the town would have changed it completely.
But why does the park not exist anymore?
I don’t know.
How about the monument, what was it for?
I don’t remember.
I looked up the Italian architecture company that Dr. Osman said was behind the fabulous idea. I found no pictures and certainly nothing about the monument.
…..
I stand in a room that is full to the brim with artefacts, posters and students, a room I am sure was not intended for hosting any of these subjects. Three schools sent their students to visit the Khalifa house, now a museum, and forgot to call beforehand. The museum was closed for restorations so the head of the Maidan committee, a descendent of the Khalifa, has turned his office into a mini museum and took the liberty of explaining the history of Mahdia, his history, to the young minds. Each class waited in a batch until they were allowed inside.
We waited our turn as well sitting in the now back-at-being-brown Maidan while looking at new car drivers being trained and horses being walked around. The horses looked maybe too much in their natural habitat.
The large sign said the Maidan size is 470 arm lengths by 295 arm lengths. Who's arms did they use to measure that? Is that person’s job? is to be a measuring tool? Do they get called to measure something when it is needed?
It’s now our turn to enter the room, looking at all the trinkets and posters hanging right under the ceiling.
I turn around and ask the old man (another old man), do you remember when the Maidan was turned into a park?
Do I remember? I was one of the people who opposed that terrible decision!
Why?
Because it’s a mosque and not a public space, just because it doesn’t have a roof now you assume its a square, it’s a mosque even if it doesn’t look like it.
So what happened?
Nimary took down the original wall and they built this new metal fence, they built the monument and made the landscape, we sued him and won the case and I personally watched as they removed everything, the concrete monument however was impossible to be removed…
“I am sure he only wanted to use the place to bury people.” Says a passer-byer that we didn’t even see coming.
What makes you say that?
There are rumors that under the monument there are rooms.
And dead bodies was the first thing that came to your mind? Did you see them?
No! But what else would they be made for?
It’s a tall structure, it maybe needs such a structure underneath the ground to hold it.
I don’t know...
How about the monument, what was it for?
Something about heroes.
…..
I decided to try my luck with the archives again, this time a more supposedly accessible archive. I sit in front of a woman whose job is to decide for you what you should access which is always anything but the things you want to really see. After I explained what I was looking for, she suggested I read Abusalim’s Khartoum book. He was the person who established the archives and wrote a lot of books from the documents they have. Abusalim said plenty about the Maidan, like it was built in phases, first straw then mud then stone. The Maidan was always used for religious celebrations and demonstrating the Khalifa’s army power, since it was in the heart of the city. It has the strategic location of being at the end of many roads, one of which was made for marching the Khalifa's army and the road was named after the march “Arda”, another road was made for the army to depart the city through, it was also named after the army departing the city, the departing road “Hijra”. In another book in the archives Wingate drew this quirky sketch of the mosque showing each tribe and where they used to stand in the time of prayer. Supposedly that method was used to take attendance and make sure everyone was there and not plotting something somewhere else.
…..
I posted a question online as a last resort: Does anyone know what the monument on Maidan Al-Mawlid stood for?
A number of monument-related responses were received, but none were about the monument I requested.
There were steel obelisks that people remembered at different intersections. Was it one or were they 3? They might have been mobile monuments for all that matters. Some remembered a canon, others Statius of a Badri, some said it was the son others said it was the father.
What they all had in common, apart from the one I asked about, was that none of them exist today.
I tried my luck again asking in a Facebook group for old pictures collectors. The answers came in fragments, scattered between comments shouting political agenda. Commenters said the decision to turn the mosque into a park is not divorced from the political dispute between Nimery and the Mahdi family, the entire event is looked at as an attempt to erase the history of the space and the Mahdia heritage. As for the monument, the story goes is that in the late Seventies, the Mosque was turned into a park called Heroes' Square. The monument, known as the monument of heroes, was covered in white marble from top to bottom, with stairways leading to it, giving the illusion that the landscape reached the sky.
Someone suggested I watch a music video for Abul Azeez Mohammed Daoud, Alfina Mashhouda, “what’s within us (our greatness) is known", a song about the bravery of the Sudanese people. The music video shows footage of many sites of historical locations and pictures of none other than the monument I have been long looking for. The three structures were surrounded by three-dimensional paintings showing scenes from different battles. And the towering marbled structure reflecting the sunlight in between.
…..
Back in front of the Maidan years after that first visit again during the Mawlid time. The voices of the strategically placed speakers in the Baladia building behind me however are trying to drown out the sound of recitations and chants coming from the Maidan. Men's voices can be heard excommunicating everyone in the Maidan and calling for the termination of the festivals.
Dozens of children lounge on a tiny roundabout with a ball in the middle located right between the sounds coming from both sides. The children however don’t seem to be bothered by the excessive use of freedom of speech.
Military use, market, an attempted park and a space for religious celebrations as well as anti-religious celebrations demonstrations, a fabulous idea, a terrible decision, a mysterious monument and devilish conspiracy theories, a mini museum and horse training track, a short cut for the people trapped by one-way nightmare of roads.
Among all of this what I can truly say is the brown tinted square isn’t as dead as it looks after all.
This piece was first published in 2022 under the name Maidan Alkhalifa in the book Until We Meet, Edited and Published by Locale and Waraq
Return to Sinnar
Return to Sinnar
Return to Sinnar
Poetry: Dr. Mohamed Abdel Hai
The poem "Return to Sennar", by the great poet Dr. Mohamed Abdel Hai, is one of the most segnificant poems that discuss the issue of Sudanese identity. It was part of the formation of the "Forest and Desert" movement, which began in the sixties of the last century. A group of great poets contributed to the formation of this poetic and cultural movement. Some of the most notable poets were Al-Nour Othman Abkar, Muhammad Al-Makki Ibrahim, Dr. Youssef Aidabi, and Abdullah Shabo.
We have chosen this poem among many written about ancient Sudanese cities and kingdoms, dating back to 1963 AD, and it is also considered one of the leading poems within the currents of modern poetry in Sudan and even in the Arab world.
Extract from the poem
Tonight my people welcome me:
The spirits of my ancestors emerge from
the silver of river dreams, and from
the night of names
They take on the bodies of children.
They breathe into the lungs of the holy Maddah
and with a forearm
strike across the drummer's arm.
Tonight my people welcome me:
They gave me a rosary made of the teeth of the dead
a skull jug a buffalo-skin prayer mat
A symbol that shines between palm and ebony tree
A language that rises like a spear
from the body of the earth
and across the sky of the wound.
Tonight my people welcome me.
The forest and the desert were
A naked woman asleep
on a bed of lightning waiting for
Her divine bull that visits in the darkness.
The horizon of the face and the mask were one.
Blooming in the sultanate of innocence
and the sludge of beginnings
On the border of light and darkness between waking and sleeping.
(1963)
Cover picture © Zainab Gaafar, children on a roundabout, Sinnar City, 2018
Return to Sinnar
Poetry: Dr. Mohamed Abdel Hai
The poem "Return to Sennar", by the great poet Dr. Mohamed Abdel Hai, is one of the most segnificant poems that discuss the issue of Sudanese identity. It was part of the formation of the "Forest and Desert" movement, which began in the sixties of the last century. A group of great poets contributed to the formation of this poetic and cultural movement. Some of the most notable poets were Al-Nour Othman Abkar, Muhammad Al-Makki Ibrahim, Dr. Youssef Aidabi, and Abdullah Shabo.
We have chosen this poem among many written about ancient Sudanese cities and kingdoms, dating back to 1963 AD, and it is also considered one of the leading poems within the currents of modern poetry in Sudan and even in the Arab world.
Extract from the poem
Tonight my people welcome me:
The spirits of my ancestors emerge from
the silver of river dreams, and from
the night of names
They take on the bodies of children.
They breathe into the lungs of the holy Maddah
and with a forearm
strike across the drummer's arm.
Tonight my people welcome me:
They gave me a rosary made of the teeth of the dead
a skull jug a buffalo-skin prayer mat
A symbol that shines between palm and ebony tree
A language that rises like a spear
from the body of the earth
and across the sky of the wound.
Tonight my people welcome me.
The forest and the desert were
A naked woman asleep
on a bed of lightning waiting for
Her divine bull that visits in the darkness.
The horizon of the face and the mask were one.
Blooming in the sultanate of innocence
and the sludge of beginnings
On the border of light and darkness between waking and sleeping.
(1963)
Cover picture © Zainab Gaafar, children on a roundabout, Sinnar City, 2018
Return to Sinnar
Poetry: Dr. Mohamed Abdel Hai
The poem "Return to Sennar", by the great poet Dr. Mohamed Abdel Hai, is one of the most segnificant poems that discuss the issue of Sudanese identity. It was part of the formation of the "Forest and Desert" movement, which began in the sixties of the last century. A group of great poets contributed to the formation of this poetic and cultural movement. Some of the most notable poets were Al-Nour Othman Abkar, Muhammad Al-Makki Ibrahim, Dr. Youssef Aidabi, and Abdullah Shabo.
We have chosen this poem among many written about ancient Sudanese cities and kingdoms, dating back to 1963 AD, and it is also considered one of the leading poems within the currents of modern poetry in Sudan and even in the Arab world.
Extract from the poem
Tonight my people welcome me:
The spirits of my ancestors emerge from
the silver of river dreams, and from
the night of names
They take on the bodies of children.
They breathe into the lungs of the holy Maddah
and with a forearm
strike across the drummer's arm.
Tonight my people welcome me:
They gave me a rosary made of the teeth of the dead
a skull jug a buffalo-skin prayer mat
A symbol that shines between palm and ebony tree
A language that rises like a spear
from the body of the earth
and across the sky of the wound.
Tonight my people welcome me.
The forest and the desert were
A naked woman asleep
on a bed of lightning waiting for
Her divine bull that visits in the darkness.
The horizon of the face and the mask were one.
Blooming in the sultanate of innocence
and the sludge of beginnings
On the border of light and darkness between waking and sleeping.
(1963)
Cover picture © Zainab Gaafar, children on a roundabout, Sinnar City, 2018
Right to Public Space
Right to Public Space
The production team for this episode are:
Research and Producer: Almuzn Mohammedelhassan, Mai Abusalih, and Zainab Gaafar.
Presenter and Poster Design: Azza Mohamed.
Script: Almuzn Mohammedelhassan, Mai Abusalih, Zainab Gaafar, and Husam Hilali.
Music: Zain Records.
Audio Mixing: Tariq Suliman.
Project Manager: Zainab Gaafar.
Equipment and technical assistance: elMastabaTV.
Recording studio: 404 Creative Design Studio.
Public spaces are a means of recreation and relaxation in a crowded, sprawling city like Khartoum. Throughout the past thirty years, the government’s policies towards public spaces and their use can be summed up in approximately three keywords: privatization, restriction of use, and alteration of purpose. It is possible to say that Khartoum’s reserve of squares and public spaces has gradually eroded during the years of the Inqaz Regime. Every so often citizens wake up to find this park or that public square sold off or leased to a private investor. Soon after the walls rise around it and the gates close on it, and the public sphere gradually narrows.
In this article, we’ll take a look at some of the active public spaces that have emerged spontaneously without any kind of formal planning, and the fate of the ones that are formally planned. We will explore the role public spaces had to play in the country’s political history, After which, with the help of some examples, we will inspect how privatization policies contributed to the loss of public spaces, and the legal aspect of this systemic campaign to strip the city of its public spaces.
It can be argued that public space actually begins at the threshold of the house. The term “Mastaba”, referring to a slightly elevated paved surface in front of a house, is often the stage for many social activities; such as Ramadan’s Iftar or children’s outdoor activities. Oftentimes it is designed and built along with the house as a natural extension of it. However, we will be focusing, at a larger scale, on the public squares, plazas, and parks, starting with those that emerged with little to no urban planning
Among the most famous public spaces, especially in recent years, is “Atené” square. Its popularity persists despite its small size, peculiar origin, and the fact that it’s not technically a public space. Furthermore, its visitors and the nature of their activities have a special image in the collective imagination. Much of this recent popularity can arguably be attributed to “Mafroosh”, a monthly bazaar for second-hand books that was held in the square regularly from 2012 until it was discontinued in 2015.
Coincidence had a major role to play in the conception and subsequent development of Atené Square as a public space. However, the square itself is not public property per se, but is rather part of a private property owned by the Abu El-ela family and was built during the Independence era (mid-1950s). Designed by N. Stephanis, the real estate includes five office buildings and is located at the intersection of Al-Qasr and Al-Gomhouria streets, one of the busiest intersections in the city, making it easily accessible from most of downtown Khartoum. Out of the five planned buildings, four were fully constructed while the plot in the center, which should have been the fifth building, remained empty except for a few short columns and the entrance and exit of the car parking in the basement. This space later became Atené Square. This central positioning made the square “immersed” between the other buildings, sheltering it from the noise of the nearby streets. The surrounding buildings cast their shade on the square since late afternoon, making it a suitable venue during the daytime, unlike other public squares or plazas that are exposed to direct radiation for most of the day. On top of all that, the square is surrounded -on three sides- by small shops and stores overlooking verandahs, making it active all day long, without getting too crowded.
Perhaps Atené’s property nature as private was its greatest advantage; it minimized the government – or governments’ -ability to expropriate it or restrict its use. This is a strange paradox. That it is Atené’s dependency on the private sector that protects its public use from government requisition! This paradox becomes evident given the story of “Mafroosh” Bazaar.
Mafroosh’s first event was held in May 2012, led by an initiative from Work Cultural Group, in the square chosen specifically for its symbolism, as it has been a meeting place of intellectuals for decades. The bazaar is based on a simple idea; On the first Tuesday of every month, about twenty to fifty booksellers display on the ground their merchandise of old, second-hand, new, rare, or forbidden books -hence the name Mfroosh that means to be laid on the ground in Arabic.2Transactions were carried out by either sale or books exchange. The bazaar attracted hundreds of visitors Of different ages and demographics, as it was a place to meet with friends and interact with others over a period of time that extended from early afternoon until nine in the evening. Sales were not limited to books, as handicrafts were also displayed, and it was accompanied by a musical performance every once in a while.
The bazaar was not sponsored by any government institution which did not pose any problem for the first two years. However, interference started soon after the restrictions that followed the crackdown of September 2013 protests. Organizers were hindered from holding the bazaar by trapping them in a series of bureaucratic procedures, under the pretext that they had to submit a list of every single book title to be displayed if they were to proceed with the event.3 A feat that is impossible for a bazaar centered around its visitors’ free exchange of their used books. After a hiatus lasting several years, Mafroosh was eventually brought back to the “Qiyadah” sit-in, after which it was held regularly in the National Museum.4
Mafroosh created a space for culture at a time when the restrictions imposed on it by the authorities were tightening, and the venues for public activities were shrinking. When the government was unable to get rid of the square by selling it off or barring public access to it, as is usually the case with “Actual” public squares, they proceeded to obstruct Mafroosh through the black hole of bureaucracy. It does not seem that the problem was with Mafroosh or Atené, insomuch as it was in the free space they provided. A space that dictatorial authority views as cancer that must be eradicated.
Another area in Khartoum that can be considered a product of happenstance is Khartoum’s Nile Street, which gradually became an important outlet for the city, fostering hundreds of small businesses relying on its existence as a public space frequented by all city’s inhabitants.
The privatization of the riverfront by opening it up to investment can be observed in the eastern-most segment of Nile Street. Between the Armed forces and Mansheya bridges, several privately owned facilities can be observed, such as Alnadi Alwatani (National club) or wedding venues. This pattern of encroachment on public space, which is only beginning in this part of Nile Street, is officially institutionalized in Khartoum’s Structural Plan (the latest urban plan for Greater Khartoum), specifically in the plan for the Muqran area and Al-Sunut forest. There is a clear orientation to transform the area into a concrete forest of some kind. The plan will densify the area and turn it into a business district, stacked with office towers.6 Most of the area between the Blue Nile and Nile Street will be privately owned, meaning that access to the riverfront will become a privilege and not a right in a city permeated by three rivers. A tender to implement the 25 years-long plan was opened to both local and international companies alike in 2005.7 It does not seem that a project such as Al-Muqran takes into consideration the fate of the aforementioned users of the space, be it the small businesses owners or their customers or regular visitors, not even the urban fabric of the city.
It is important to mention Mafroosh and Nile street in this context since they are arguably considered central public spaces, and because they were not planned but rather came into existence as a result of people’s needs and the way they utilized these spaces. For a brief while, however, the sit-in area in front of the General Armed Forces Command was the central “square” of the city. In one way or another, it showcased all the activities you would expect to find in a typical public square; a spontaneous meeting place for friends after work hours, a venue where big events and concerts are occasionally held, or a place where people would meet just for chatting and exchanging ideas and views. The sit-in area was spontaneously utilized for all these uses while people were occupying it, but the purpose that was intended the moment the crowds reached it, was to make their voice heard. It was a political intention that led them there.
This political intentionality is an important characteristic of the utilization of public space in Khartoum. The memory of the city with revolutions and civil movements is an old one. A memory that stretches back to even before independence. It is impossible to write about public space in a city like Khartoum, without bringing up those moments, when thousands of footsteps were engraved as a vivid memory still imprinted on the sidewalks, the dirt, and the asphalt of streets.
Abdel Moneim Square –which later came to be known as Nadi Alusra or The Family Club– was the first stage of the October 1964 Revolution, where the funeral prayer for the martyr al-Qurashi took place. The second stage being Al-Gamma Avenue, where, on the twenty-eighth of October, thousands of citizens headed towards the Republican Palace, crowding the surrounding streets.10The angry footsteps of protesters resonated on Al-Qasr Avenue during the April 1985 Revolution. They spilled out into the street from Khartoum’s main railway station all the way to the Palace.11 As for the “Qiada” (Army Headquarters) itself – the Center stage of the December 2018 revolution – it is not a square but a group of streets surrounding the General Armed forces Command, and as a gathering point for a number of main streets, it is one of the city’s central areas.
Suffice it to say that with the exception of Abdel Moneim Square, most of the civil movements took place in streets, and not the public squares. Why, then, were most major political events associated with the streets? Why Al-Gamma and Al Qasr Avenues, and not Abu Ginzeer Square, for example? After all, squares such as Al-Tahrir in Cairo or Tiananmen in Beijing were center stages for important political events. Is it because Khartoum is already short on public squares? Or because the existing squares have their own problems? What prevented these squares from being the stage of such events?
A brief historical overview of Khartoum’s central public squares, such as the former Abbas, The United Nations, and Abdel Moneim Squares, as well as the remaining ones like Abu Ginzeer Square, can give us an insight into the reasons behind this. The story of the United Nations, and Abdel Moneim squares, in particular, can shed a light on the policies of privatization and repurposing institutionalized by former governments. The greatest manifestation of the state’s hostile policies towards the existence of a freely accessible and active public venue, is the fact that Abdel Moneim Square was once a hub for rallies and civil movements in the 1950s and 60s, but this role gradually diminished until it completely disappeared from the collective imagination.
Let’s start first with Khartoum city’s first formally-planned square; Abbas Square (named after Khedive Abbas). It was the central square of Kitchener’s Khartoum, and it continued to serve as the main square of the steadily expanding city, with the Grand Mosque in its center -as typical in many Arab cities- surrounded by the main market. The square was split by Victoria Avenue, the widest in Khartoum back then.14 With the continuous expansion of the city, however, the square gradually shrank as the buildings crawled and swallowed it, until all that was left of the original square were two small squares: The United Nations and Abu Ginzeer Squares.
Abu Ginzeer Square is named after the owner of a grave surrounded by iron chains (Ginazeer) that was located at the center of the square. In recent years it was cordoned off by a fence, and during the recent December 2018 revolution security forces were stationed there. As if paramilitary forces occupying a public square -as the most blatant manifestation of state militarization- was not bad enough, the square was converted, during the December revolution, into a gathering point for protesters arrested during marches in Khartoum’s downtown, from which they are sent to various detention centers.16 17
The United Nations Square had multiple uses; the southern part of it was a football field, and the northern part had a vegetable market called al-Zinc Market. It withstood the changes until Nimeiri’s era after which it became Al-Quba Alkhadra (Green Dome) Library, which was later demolished and the Waha (Oasis) Towers were built on its site. 18 As for the reason behind the square’s name, it was where the United Nations flags were once raised.
Abdel Moneim Square is the main square of the Khartoum 3 neighborhood. Its plan contrasted significantly with Kitchener’s original Khartoum plan. In contrast to the uninterrupted iron grid, Khartoum 3 was laid out around a circular center represented by Abdel Moneim Square. As previously mentioned, in the fifties and sixties, the square was the stage for important events in the city’s memory. Events that exerted considerable influence on the rest of the country, as seen in the Al-Gezira farmers’ sit-in in the square. On the 29th of December 1953, twenty five thousand farmers from Al-Gezira region along with their families, occupied the Square and succeeded in forcing the government to recognize their union.19 Another significant event took place on the 17th of November 1958, when the representatives of Parliament met to vote on a “withdrawal of confidence” from Abdullah Bey Khalil’s government, who tried to impede their efforts by postponing the parliament session and handing over power to the army the next day.20 The aforementioned funeral procession of al-Qurashi, which marked the beginning of the end for Abboud’s regime, also took place in the square. Colleagues and professors of al-Qurashi -a student at the University of Khartoum at the time – along with the citizens, who joined them, marched carrying his body, all the way from Khartoum Hospital, along the Isbitalia Street and across Hurriya Bridge towards Khartoum 3 neighborhood, where they held his funeral prayers in the square. His body was then sent back to be buried at his hometown, Al-Qurassa village in Gezira state. 21
The square was later converted to Nadi Al-Usra (The Family Club.) Its considerable size allowed it to host various sports, social, and political activities. It included arenas and halls for various sports, including tennis, squash, and billiards. It also hosted many political seminars. Most importantly, it was a recreational destination for the families who lived in the neighborhood and nearby areas up until the early nineties. From then on, the authorities began to restrict its use, then began to gradually cut off pieces of land and reassign them to various other purposes; sometimes as headquarters for government institutions or security services, other times to be sold off to private investment.23 The fierce raid of privatization on the club makes more sense when considering the value of the land; the plot of land on which the club was built is among the most expensive in Khartoum.
What makes Abdel Moneim Square significant is that it can be viewed as a historical record for understanding the relationship between public space and the state. It was originally designed to serve the neighborhood’s level, and perhaps the nearby neighborhoods, not the city level. However, as evident from the history of the square, at some point it served a greater level than the city itself. The square also reveals the wasted potential of neighborhoods’ squares, as demonstrated by the period it was developed to house Nadi Al-usra. On top of it all, the square is an example of the hostility with which the state deals with public spaces, especially during the thirty years of the Inqaz era. This hostility created a clear pattern, evident in a systematic campaign to take over public squares, starting from the large city squares, to even neighborhood’s squares. The audacity of this takeover campaign reaches the limits of insolence in small squares scattered across neighborhoods, and far from the monitoring eyes of the public.
So how did neighborhoods’ squares fall prey to the greed of governments and private investors? To understand this we must answer a few questions: How was this expropriation trend initiated? And how did the urban planning of the city in general and the urban design of these very squares facilitate the continuation of this trend?
According to Dr. Osman Al-Khair, an architect and researcher specializing in the field of human settlements, It can be argued that the first seeds of this pattern were sown in Abboud’s regime, the first military dictatorship. During Abboud’s era, residential districts were planned with vastly spacious squares, e.g. Al-Thawrats in Omdurman. Later, during Nimeiri’s regime and its successive financial crises, the government turned its gaze toward these vast squares, with their land values increasing as they were now located in the center of the expanding city. Nimeiri’s administration began to slice off longitudinal strips of land from the squares’ perimeters and divide them into residential plots to be auctioned off. Since these squares were larger than the neighbourhoods’ needs, this step in and of itself was not problematic, as it was an attempt to control the urban sprawl of the city that was spiraling out of control. The problem is that this policy has opened the door wide for the expropriation of these squares.24
One of the most prominent factors facilitating this encroachment of neighborhoods’ squares, by making it difficult to notice and thus to take action against, is the fact that most of these squares are virtually deserted. The empty plots of land are devoid of life and rarely ever utilized, and if so, then mostly as a landfill or a shortcut. According to Dr. Othman Al-Khair, The abandonment and the subsequent desertion of these squares was likely a result of service facilities and commercial activities concentrating on the perimeter of the neighborhoods, to be closer to the asphalted main street. This resulted in the death of the neighborhoods’ inner center, which is usually where the square is situated. This desertion alienates it from the memory of the neighborhood’s residents, and thus further distances it from the eyes of public monitoring.25
Of course, this reasoning alone is not enough to completely account for the shrinking of these squares. However, when adding to all of the above an elastic planning law, with no clear checks and balances for the officials entrusted to implement it, and without regulations explaining it, the equation becomes complete to strip the neighborhoods of squares and the city itself of public spaces.
Perhaps shedding a light on some of the legal aspects concerning the planning and use of public space, can offer a glimpse into the previous regime’s perspective on public spaces. It can also further explain the reasons behind the vague and elastic bureaucratic procedures that hinder the protection of these spaces, thereby facilitating their grapping and privatization .
According to Salwa Abasam, A lawyer and an activist in civil society organizations, The current law regulating the planning and use of land is The 1994 Urban Planning and Land Disposal Act, that replaced The 1406 AH Land Disposal Act, The 1406 AH Urban Planning Act and The 1950 Town Replanning Act.26 The 1994 Act is brief, with only 49 articles, therefore, it needs a lot of explanatory and complementary regulations, and this is exactly where the problems with this law begin. But before we delve into these problems, we must have an understanding of the officials and institutions involved in implementing this law. First, there is The Federal Urban Planning and Land Disposal Council, which is the body primarily responsible for setting general policies and plans and overseeing their implementation. Then for each state, there is the Minister of Urban Planning and The State Planning Committee.27
Within the jurisdiction of the Supreme Council for Urban Planning, detailed in Article 8 of the 1994 Act, is to “Approve the change of field of land use…with the exception of public spaces and squares.”28 The jurisdiction to change the land use of public spaces was granted to the minister and the planning committee in their respective states, in accordance with Article 9, which defines the authorities of the minister, on whom also falls the task of approving directed maps. These maps detail the required services for the area as well as land use, including public spaces and squares. Article 9 grants the minister the authority to “recommend the change of use of public spaces and squares, for any purpose, where necessity requires the same.“29 and assigns the task of approving or rejecting this recommendation to the state planning committee; i.e. , it is the committee that determines what is a “necessity” that requires change. The odd contradiction is that the decisions of this committee are appealed by the minister himself. According to Article 42, The Minister also has the authority to “…dispose of the planned land the purposes of which have been specified, by way of preferential allotment…”30 The article regulates this allocation which goes through the same aforementioned procedure, of being approved or rejected by the state’s planning committee.
Now back to the problematic part of the law. Salwa Abasam explains that expressions such as “where necessity requires the same.” are loose, flexible, and can be interpreted at the whims of the executive authorities. The ideal situation is that any ambiguities of this nature should be detailed and clarified in the technical and executive regulations of the law. In reality, what was actually happening is that throughout the past thirty years, there was a tendency or propensity to issue regulations that are inconsistent with the laws under which they were issued. Many of these regulations could not even be viewed as they were never officially published. For any regulation to become valid and acquire the legitimacy of a valid law, it must be technically sound and contradict neither the law it was issued under nor the constitution. Most importantly, it must be published in the Official Ministry of Justice’s Gazette, which is not the case with the regulations interpreting the 1994 Urban Planning and Land Disposal act.31
The lack of transparency and the ambiguity of this law, and consequently the bureaucratic procedures, makes the task of monitoring the executive authority and safeguarding public interests next to impossible. How can people be expected to know that repurposing this square, or selling off this public space Was in violation of a law they weren’t aware of existing in the first place? This policy of keeping the general public in the dark is not a new concept to the Inqaz regime, rather it is the very tactic which enabled it to stay in power for thirty years, and this blackout is not limited to the land administration but extends to the entire body of the executive authority.
Governments’ policies towards public spaces reflect their appreciation of the public sphere in general, whether real or virtual, as a free venue to exchange opinions in an open society that interacts among itself. Public spaces are an integral part of this interaction process and an important stage for it to take place. Dictatorships always tend to restrict this interaction, driven by a survival instinct to fiercely defend their existence against the consequences of this free interaction. consequences that start with protesting a certain program or policy, to even protesting the existence of the dictatorship itself. On the other hand, and as the Washington Post’s slogan suggests, “democracy dies in darkness.” A healthy democracy can only be born in a sphere that is open and accessible to everyone in the society with no exceptions, and it cannot be sustained in the absence of public spaces that embrace people from all walks of life.
Main Artwork: Azza Mohamed
The production team for this episode are:
Research and Producer: Almuzn Mohammedelhassan, Mai Abusalih, and Zainab Gaafar.
Presenter and Poster Design: Azza Mohamed.
Script: Almuzn Mohammedelhassan, Mai Abusalih, Zainab Gaafar, and Husam Hilali.
Music: Zain Records.
Audio Mixing: Tariq Suliman.
Project Manager: Zainab Gaafar.
Equipment and technical assistance: elMastabaTV.
Recording studio: 404 Creative Design Studio.
Public spaces are a means of recreation and relaxation in a crowded, sprawling city like Khartoum. Throughout the past thirty years, the government’s policies towards public spaces and their use can be summed up in approximately three keywords: privatization, restriction of use, and alteration of purpose. It is possible to say that Khartoum’s reserve of squares and public spaces has gradually eroded during the years of the Inqaz Regime. Every so often citizens wake up to find this park or that public square sold off or leased to a private investor. Soon after the walls rise around it and the gates close on it, and the public sphere gradually narrows.
In this article, we’ll take a look at some of the active public spaces that have emerged spontaneously without any kind of formal planning, and the fate of the ones that are formally planned. We will explore the role public spaces had to play in the country’s political history, After which, with the help of some examples, we will inspect how privatization policies contributed to the loss of public spaces, and the legal aspect of this systemic campaign to strip the city of its public spaces.
It can be argued that public space actually begins at the threshold of the house. The term “Mastaba”, referring to a slightly elevated paved surface in front of a house, is often the stage for many social activities; such as Ramadan’s Iftar or children’s outdoor activities. Oftentimes it is designed and built along with the house as a natural extension of it. However, we will be focusing, at a larger scale, on the public squares, plazas, and parks, starting with those that emerged with little to no urban planning
Among the most famous public spaces, especially in recent years, is “Atené” square. Its popularity persists despite its small size, peculiar origin, and the fact that it’s not technically a public space. Furthermore, its visitors and the nature of their activities have a special image in the collective imagination. Much of this recent popularity can arguably be attributed to “Mafroosh”, a monthly bazaar for second-hand books that was held in the square regularly from 2012 until it was discontinued in 2015.
Coincidence had a major role to play in the conception and subsequent development of Atené Square as a public space. However, the square itself is not public property per se, but is rather part of a private property owned by the Abu El-ela family and was built during the Independence era (mid-1950s). Designed by N. Stephanis, the real estate includes five office buildings and is located at the intersection of Al-Qasr and Al-Gomhouria streets, one of the busiest intersections in the city, making it easily accessible from most of downtown Khartoum. Out of the five planned buildings, four were fully constructed while the plot in the center, which should have been the fifth building, remained empty except for a few short columns and the entrance and exit of the car parking in the basement. This space later became Atené Square. This central positioning made the square “immersed” between the other buildings, sheltering it from the noise of the nearby streets. The surrounding buildings cast their shade on the square since late afternoon, making it a suitable venue during the daytime, unlike other public squares or plazas that are exposed to direct radiation for most of the day. On top of all that, the square is surrounded -on three sides- by small shops and stores overlooking verandahs, making it active all day long, without getting too crowded.
Perhaps Atené’s property nature as private was its greatest advantage; it minimized the government – or governments’ -ability to expropriate it or restrict its use. This is a strange paradox. That it is Atené’s dependency on the private sector that protects its public use from government requisition! This paradox becomes evident given the story of “Mafroosh” Bazaar.
Mafroosh’s first event was held in May 2012, led by an initiative from Work Cultural Group, in the square chosen specifically for its symbolism, as it has been a meeting place of intellectuals for decades. The bazaar is based on a simple idea; On the first Tuesday of every month, about twenty to fifty booksellers display on the ground their merchandise of old, second-hand, new, rare, or forbidden books -hence the name Mfroosh that means to be laid on the ground in Arabic.2Transactions were carried out by either sale or books exchange. The bazaar attracted hundreds of visitors Of different ages and demographics, as it was a place to meet with friends and interact with others over a period of time that extended from early afternoon until nine in the evening. Sales were not limited to books, as handicrafts were also displayed, and it was accompanied by a musical performance every once in a while.
The bazaar was not sponsored by any government institution which did not pose any problem for the first two years. However, interference started soon after the restrictions that followed the crackdown of September 2013 protests. Organizers were hindered from holding the bazaar by trapping them in a series of bureaucratic procedures, under the pretext that they had to submit a list of every single book title to be displayed if they were to proceed with the event.3 A feat that is impossible for a bazaar centered around its visitors’ free exchange of their used books. After a hiatus lasting several years, Mafroosh was eventually brought back to the “Qiyadah” sit-in, after which it was held regularly in the National Museum.4
Mafroosh created a space for culture at a time when the restrictions imposed on it by the authorities were tightening, and the venues for public activities were shrinking. When the government was unable to get rid of the square by selling it off or barring public access to it, as is usually the case with “Actual” public squares, they proceeded to obstruct Mafroosh through the black hole of bureaucracy. It does not seem that the problem was with Mafroosh or Atené, insomuch as it was in the free space they provided. A space that dictatorial authority views as cancer that must be eradicated.
Another area in Khartoum that can be considered a product of happenstance is Khartoum’s Nile Street, which gradually became an important outlet for the city, fostering hundreds of small businesses relying on its existence as a public space frequented by all city’s inhabitants.
The privatization of the riverfront by opening it up to investment can be observed in the eastern-most segment of Nile Street. Between the Armed forces and Mansheya bridges, several privately owned facilities can be observed, such as Alnadi Alwatani (National club) or wedding venues. This pattern of encroachment on public space, which is only beginning in this part of Nile Street, is officially institutionalized in Khartoum’s Structural Plan (the latest urban plan for Greater Khartoum), specifically in the plan for the Muqran area and Al-Sunut forest. There is a clear orientation to transform the area into a concrete forest of some kind. The plan will densify the area and turn it into a business district, stacked with office towers.6 Most of the area between the Blue Nile and Nile Street will be privately owned, meaning that access to the riverfront will become a privilege and not a right in a city permeated by three rivers. A tender to implement the 25 years-long plan was opened to both local and international companies alike in 2005.7 It does not seem that a project such as Al-Muqran takes into consideration the fate of the aforementioned users of the space, be it the small businesses owners or their customers or regular visitors, not even the urban fabric of the city.
It is important to mention Mafroosh and Nile street in this context since they are arguably considered central public spaces, and because they were not planned but rather came into existence as a result of people’s needs and the way they utilized these spaces. For a brief while, however, the sit-in area in front of the General Armed Forces Command was the central “square” of the city. In one way or another, it showcased all the activities you would expect to find in a typical public square; a spontaneous meeting place for friends after work hours, a venue where big events and concerts are occasionally held, or a place where people would meet just for chatting and exchanging ideas and views. The sit-in area was spontaneously utilized for all these uses while people were occupying it, but the purpose that was intended the moment the crowds reached it, was to make their voice heard. It was a political intention that led them there.
This political intentionality is an important characteristic of the utilization of public space in Khartoum. The memory of the city with revolutions and civil movements is an old one. A memory that stretches back to even before independence. It is impossible to write about public space in a city like Khartoum, without bringing up those moments, when thousands of footsteps were engraved as a vivid memory still imprinted on the sidewalks, the dirt, and the asphalt of streets.
Abdel Moneim Square –which later came to be known as Nadi Alusra or The Family Club– was the first stage of the October 1964 Revolution, where the funeral prayer for the martyr al-Qurashi took place. The second stage being Al-Gamma Avenue, where, on the twenty-eighth of October, thousands of citizens headed towards the Republican Palace, crowding the surrounding streets.10The angry footsteps of protesters resonated on Al-Qasr Avenue during the April 1985 Revolution. They spilled out into the street from Khartoum’s main railway station all the way to the Palace.11 As for the “Qiada” (Army Headquarters) itself – the Center stage of the December 2018 revolution – it is not a square but a group of streets surrounding the General Armed forces Command, and as a gathering point for a number of main streets, it is one of the city’s central areas.
Suffice it to say that with the exception of Abdel Moneim Square, most of the civil movements took place in streets, and not the public squares. Why, then, were most major political events associated with the streets? Why Al-Gamma and Al Qasr Avenues, and not Abu Ginzeer Square, for example? After all, squares such as Al-Tahrir in Cairo or Tiananmen in Beijing were center stages for important political events. Is it because Khartoum is already short on public squares? Or because the existing squares have their own problems? What prevented these squares from being the stage of such events?
A brief historical overview of Khartoum’s central public squares, such as the former Abbas, The United Nations, and Abdel Moneim Squares, as well as the remaining ones like Abu Ginzeer Square, can give us an insight into the reasons behind this. The story of the United Nations, and Abdel Moneim squares, in particular, can shed a light on the policies of privatization and repurposing institutionalized by former governments. The greatest manifestation of the state’s hostile policies towards the existence of a freely accessible and active public venue, is the fact that Abdel Moneim Square was once a hub for rallies and civil movements in the 1950s and 60s, but this role gradually diminished until it completely disappeared from the collective imagination.
Let’s start first with Khartoum city’s first formally-planned square; Abbas Square (named after Khedive Abbas). It was the central square of Kitchener’s Khartoum, and it continued to serve as the main square of the steadily expanding city, with the Grand Mosque in its center -as typical in many Arab cities- surrounded by the main market. The square was split by Victoria Avenue, the widest in Khartoum back then.14 With the continuous expansion of the city, however, the square gradually shrank as the buildings crawled and swallowed it, until all that was left of the original square were two small squares: The United Nations and Abu Ginzeer Squares.
Abu Ginzeer Square is named after the owner of a grave surrounded by iron chains (Ginazeer) that was located at the center of the square. In recent years it was cordoned off by a fence, and during the recent December 2018 revolution security forces were stationed there. As if paramilitary forces occupying a public square -as the most blatant manifestation of state militarization- was not bad enough, the square was converted, during the December revolution, into a gathering point for protesters arrested during marches in Khartoum’s downtown, from which they are sent to various detention centers.16 17
The United Nations Square had multiple uses; the southern part of it was a football field, and the northern part had a vegetable market called al-Zinc Market. It withstood the changes until Nimeiri’s era after which it became Al-Quba Alkhadra (Green Dome) Library, which was later demolished and the Waha (Oasis) Towers were built on its site. 18 As for the reason behind the square’s name, it was where the United Nations flags were once raised.
Abdel Moneim Square is the main square of the Khartoum 3 neighborhood. Its plan contrasted significantly with Kitchener’s original Khartoum plan. In contrast to the uninterrupted iron grid, Khartoum 3 was laid out around a circular center represented by Abdel Moneim Square. As previously mentioned, in the fifties and sixties, the square was the stage for important events in the city’s memory. Events that exerted considerable influence on the rest of the country, as seen in the Al-Gezira farmers’ sit-in in the square. On the 29th of December 1953, twenty five thousand farmers from Al-Gezira region along with their families, occupied the Square and succeeded in forcing the government to recognize their union.19 Another significant event took place on the 17th of November 1958, when the representatives of Parliament met to vote on a “withdrawal of confidence” from Abdullah Bey Khalil’s government, who tried to impede their efforts by postponing the parliament session and handing over power to the army the next day.20 The aforementioned funeral procession of al-Qurashi, which marked the beginning of the end for Abboud’s regime, also took place in the square. Colleagues and professors of al-Qurashi -a student at the University of Khartoum at the time – along with the citizens, who joined them, marched carrying his body, all the way from Khartoum Hospital, along the Isbitalia Street and across Hurriya Bridge towards Khartoum 3 neighborhood, where they held his funeral prayers in the square. His body was then sent back to be buried at his hometown, Al-Qurassa village in Gezira state. 21
The square was later converted to Nadi Al-Usra (The Family Club.) Its considerable size allowed it to host various sports, social, and political activities. It included arenas and halls for various sports, including tennis, squash, and billiards. It also hosted many political seminars. Most importantly, it was a recreational destination for the families who lived in the neighborhood and nearby areas up until the early nineties. From then on, the authorities began to restrict its use, then began to gradually cut off pieces of land and reassign them to various other purposes; sometimes as headquarters for government institutions or security services, other times to be sold off to private investment.23 The fierce raid of privatization on the club makes more sense when considering the value of the land; the plot of land on which the club was built is among the most expensive in Khartoum.
What makes Abdel Moneim Square significant is that it can be viewed as a historical record for understanding the relationship between public space and the state. It was originally designed to serve the neighborhood’s level, and perhaps the nearby neighborhoods, not the city level. However, as evident from the history of the square, at some point it served a greater level than the city itself. The square also reveals the wasted potential of neighborhoods’ squares, as demonstrated by the period it was developed to house Nadi Al-usra. On top of it all, the square is an example of the hostility with which the state deals with public spaces, especially during the thirty years of the Inqaz era. This hostility created a clear pattern, evident in a systematic campaign to take over public squares, starting from the large city squares, to even neighborhood’s squares. The audacity of this takeover campaign reaches the limits of insolence in small squares scattered across neighborhoods, and far from the monitoring eyes of the public.
So how did neighborhoods’ squares fall prey to the greed of governments and private investors? To understand this we must answer a few questions: How was this expropriation trend initiated? And how did the urban planning of the city in general and the urban design of these very squares facilitate the continuation of this trend?
According to Dr. Osman Al-Khair, an architect and researcher specializing in the field of human settlements, It can be argued that the first seeds of this pattern were sown in Abboud’s regime, the first military dictatorship. During Abboud’s era, residential districts were planned with vastly spacious squares, e.g. Al-Thawrats in Omdurman. Later, during Nimeiri’s regime and its successive financial crises, the government turned its gaze toward these vast squares, with their land values increasing as they were now located in the center of the expanding city. Nimeiri’s administration began to slice off longitudinal strips of land from the squares’ perimeters and divide them into residential plots to be auctioned off. Since these squares were larger than the neighbourhoods’ needs, this step in and of itself was not problematic, as it was an attempt to control the urban sprawl of the city that was spiraling out of control. The problem is that this policy has opened the door wide for the expropriation of these squares.24
One of the most prominent factors facilitating this encroachment of neighborhoods’ squares, by making it difficult to notice and thus to take action against, is the fact that most of these squares are virtually deserted. The empty plots of land are devoid of life and rarely ever utilized, and if so, then mostly as a landfill or a shortcut. According to Dr. Othman Al-Khair, The abandonment and the subsequent desertion of these squares was likely a result of service facilities and commercial activities concentrating on the perimeter of the neighborhoods, to be closer to the asphalted main street. This resulted in the death of the neighborhoods’ inner center, which is usually where the square is situated. This desertion alienates it from the memory of the neighborhood’s residents, and thus further distances it from the eyes of public monitoring.25
Of course, this reasoning alone is not enough to completely account for the shrinking of these squares. However, when adding to all of the above an elastic planning law, with no clear checks and balances for the officials entrusted to implement it, and without regulations explaining it, the equation becomes complete to strip the neighborhoods of squares and the city itself of public spaces.
Perhaps shedding a light on some of the legal aspects concerning the planning and use of public space, can offer a glimpse into the previous regime’s perspective on public spaces. It can also further explain the reasons behind the vague and elastic bureaucratic procedures that hinder the protection of these spaces, thereby facilitating their grapping and privatization .
According to Salwa Abasam, A lawyer and an activist in civil society organizations, The current law regulating the planning and use of land is The 1994 Urban Planning and Land Disposal Act, that replaced The 1406 AH Land Disposal Act, The 1406 AH Urban Planning Act and The 1950 Town Replanning Act.26 The 1994 Act is brief, with only 49 articles, therefore, it needs a lot of explanatory and complementary regulations, and this is exactly where the problems with this law begin. But before we delve into these problems, we must have an understanding of the officials and institutions involved in implementing this law. First, there is The Federal Urban Planning and Land Disposal Council, which is the body primarily responsible for setting general policies and plans and overseeing their implementation. Then for each state, there is the Minister of Urban Planning and The State Planning Committee.27
Within the jurisdiction of the Supreme Council for Urban Planning, detailed in Article 8 of the 1994 Act, is to “Approve the change of field of land use…with the exception of public spaces and squares.”28 The jurisdiction to change the land use of public spaces was granted to the minister and the planning committee in their respective states, in accordance with Article 9, which defines the authorities of the minister, on whom also falls the task of approving directed maps. These maps detail the required services for the area as well as land use, including public spaces and squares. Article 9 grants the minister the authority to “recommend the change of use of public spaces and squares, for any purpose, where necessity requires the same.“29 and assigns the task of approving or rejecting this recommendation to the state planning committee; i.e. , it is the committee that determines what is a “necessity” that requires change. The odd contradiction is that the decisions of this committee are appealed by the minister himself. According to Article 42, The Minister also has the authority to “…dispose of the planned land the purposes of which have been specified, by way of preferential allotment…”30 The article regulates this allocation which goes through the same aforementioned procedure, of being approved or rejected by the state’s planning committee.
Now back to the problematic part of the law. Salwa Abasam explains that expressions such as “where necessity requires the same.” are loose, flexible, and can be interpreted at the whims of the executive authorities. The ideal situation is that any ambiguities of this nature should be detailed and clarified in the technical and executive regulations of the law. In reality, what was actually happening is that throughout the past thirty years, there was a tendency or propensity to issue regulations that are inconsistent with the laws under which they were issued. Many of these regulations could not even be viewed as they were never officially published. For any regulation to become valid and acquire the legitimacy of a valid law, it must be technically sound and contradict neither the law it was issued under nor the constitution. Most importantly, it must be published in the Official Ministry of Justice’s Gazette, which is not the case with the regulations interpreting the 1994 Urban Planning and Land Disposal act.31
The lack of transparency and the ambiguity of this law, and consequently the bureaucratic procedures, makes the task of monitoring the executive authority and safeguarding public interests next to impossible. How can people be expected to know that repurposing this square, or selling off this public space Was in violation of a law they weren’t aware of existing in the first place? This policy of keeping the general public in the dark is not a new concept to the Inqaz regime, rather it is the very tactic which enabled it to stay in power for thirty years, and this blackout is not limited to the land administration but extends to the entire body of the executive authority.
Governments’ policies towards public spaces reflect their appreciation of the public sphere in general, whether real or virtual, as a free venue to exchange opinions in an open society that interacts among itself. Public spaces are an integral part of this interaction process and an important stage for it to take place. Dictatorships always tend to restrict this interaction, driven by a survival instinct to fiercely defend their existence against the consequences of this free interaction. consequences that start with protesting a certain program or policy, to even protesting the existence of the dictatorship itself. On the other hand, and as the Washington Post’s slogan suggests, “democracy dies in darkness.” A healthy democracy can only be born in a sphere that is open and accessible to everyone in the society with no exceptions, and it cannot be sustained in the absence of public spaces that embrace people from all walks of life.
Main Artwork: Azza Mohamed
The production team for this episode are:
Research and Producer: Almuzn Mohammedelhassan, Mai Abusalih, and Zainab Gaafar.
Presenter and Poster Design: Azza Mohamed.
Script: Almuzn Mohammedelhassan, Mai Abusalih, Zainab Gaafar, and Husam Hilali.
Music: Zain Records.
Audio Mixing: Tariq Suliman.
Project Manager: Zainab Gaafar.
Equipment and technical assistance: elMastabaTV.
Recording studio: 404 Creative Design Studio.
Public spaces are a means of recreation and relaxation in a crowded, sprawling city like Khartoum. Throughout the past thirty years, the government’s policies towards public spaces and their use can be summed up in approximately three keywords: privatization, restriction of use, and alteration of purpose. It is possible to say that Khartoum’s reserve of squares and public spaces has gradually eroded during the years of the Inqaz Regime. Every so often citizens wake up to find this park or that public square sold off or leased to a private investor. Soon after the walls rise around it and the gates close on it, and the public sphere gradually narrows.
In this article, we’ll take a look at some of the active public spaces that have emerged spontaneously without any kind of formal planning, and the fate of the ones that are formally planned. We will explore the role public spaces had to play in the country’s political history, After which, with the help of some examples, we will inspect how privatization policies contributed to the loss of public spaces, and the legal aspect of this systemic campaign to strip the city of its public spaces.
It can be argued that public space actually begins at the threshold of the house. The term “Mastaba”, referring to a slightly elevated paved surface in front of a house, is often the stage for many social activities; such as Ramadan’s Iftar or children’s outdoor activities. Oftentimes it is designed and built along with the house as a natural extension of it. However, we will be focusing, at a larger scale, on the public squares, plazas, and parks, starting with those that emerged with little to no urban planning
Among the most famous public spaces, especially in recent years, is “Atené” square. Its popularity persists despite its small size, peculiar origin, and the fact that it’s not technically a public space. Furthermore, its visitors and the nature of their activities have a special image in the collective imagination. Much of this recent popularity can arguably be attributed to “Mafroosh”, a monthly bazaar for second-hand books that was held in the square regularly from 2012 until it was discontinued in 2015.
Coincidence had a major role to play in the conception and subsequent development of Atené Square as a public space. However, the square itself is not public property per se, but is rather part of a private property owned by the Abu El-ela family and was built during the Independence era (mid-1950s). Designed by N. Stephanis, the real estate includes five office buildings and is located at the intersection of Al-Qasr and Al-Gomhouria streets, one of the busiest intersections in the city, making it easily accessible from most of downtown Khartoum. Out of the five planned buildings, four were fully constructed while the plot in the center, which should have been the fifth building, remained empty except for a few short columns and the entrance and exit of the car parking in the basement. This space later became Atené Square. This central positioning made the square “immersed” between the other buildings, sheltering it from the noise of the nearby streets. The surrounding buildings cast their shade on the square since late afternoon, making it a suitable venue during the daytime, unlike other public squares or plazas that are exposed to direct radiation for most of the day. On top of all that, the square is surrounded -on three sides- by small shops and stores overlooking verandahs, making it active all day long, without getting too crowded.
Perhaps Atené’s property nature as private was its greatest advantage; it minimized the government – or governments’ -ability to expropriate it or restrict its use. This is a strange paradox. That it is Atené’s dependency on the private sector that protects its public use from government requisition! This paradox becomes evident given the story of “Mafroosh” Bazaar.
Mafroosh’s first event was held in May 2012, led by an initiative from Work Cultural Group, in the square chosen specifically for its symbolism, as it has been a meeting place of intellectuals for decades. The bazaar is based on a simple idea; On the first Tuesday of every month, about twenty to fifty booksellers display on the ground their merchandise of old, second-hand, new, rare, or forbidden books -hence the name Mfroosh that means to be laid on the ground in Arabic.2Transactions were carried out by either sale or books exchange. The bazaar attracted hundreds of visitors Of different ages and demographics, as it was a place to meet with friends and interact with others over a period of time that extended from early afternoon until nine in the evening. Sales were not limited to books, as handicrafts were also displayed, and it was accompanied by a musical performance every once in a while.
The bazaar was not sponsored by any government institution which did not pose any problem for the first two years. However, interference started soon after the restrictions that followed the crackdown of September 2013 protests. Organizers were hindered from holding the bazaar by trapping them in a series of bureaucratic procedures, under the pretext that they had to submit a list of every single book title to be displayed if they were to proceed with the event.3 A feat that is impossible for a bazaar centered around its visitors’ free exchange of their used books. After a hiatus lasting several years, Mafroosh was eventually brought back to the “Qiyadah” sit-in, after which it was held regularly in the National Museum.4
Mafroosh created a space for culture at a time when the restrictions imposed on it by the authorities were tightening, and the venues for public activities were shrinking. When the government was unable to get rid of the square by selling it off or barring public access to it, as is usually the case with “Actual” public squares, they proceeded to obstruct Mafroosh through the black hole of bureaucracy. It does not seem that the problem was with Mafroosh or Atené, insomuch as it was in the free space they provided. A space that dictatorial authority views as cancer that must be eradicated.
Another area in Khartoum that can be considered a product of happenstance is Khartoum’s Nile Street, which gradually became an important outlet for the city, fostering hundreds of small businesses relying on its existence as a public space frequented by all city’s inhabitants.
The privatization of the riverfront by opening it up to investment can be observed in the eastern-most segment of Nile Street. Between the Armed forces and Mansheya bridges, several privately owned facilities can be observed, such as Alnadi Alwatani (National club) or wedding venues. This pattern of encroachment on public space, which is only beginning in this part of Nile Street, is officially institutionalized in Khartoum’s Structural Plan (the latest urban plan for Greater Khartoum), specifically in the plan for the Muqran area and Al-Sunut forest. There is a clear orientation to transform the area into a concrete forest of some kind. The plan will densify the area and turn it into a business district, stacked with office towers.6 Most of the area between the Blue Nile and Nile Street will be privately owned, meaning that access to the riverfront will become a privilege and not a right in a city permeated by three rivers. A tender to implement the 25 years-long plan was opened to both local and international companies alike in 2005.7 It does not seem that a project such as Al-Muqran takes into consideration the fate of the aforementioned users of the space, be it the small businesses owners or their customers or regular visitors, not even the urban fabric of the city.
It is important to mention Mafroosh and Nile street in this context since they are arguably considered central public spaces, and because they were not planned but rather came into existence as a result of people’s needs and the way they utilized these spaces. For a brief while, however, the sit-in area in front of the General Armed Forces Command was the central “square” of the city. In one way or another, it showcased all the activities you would expect to find in a typical public square; a spontaneous meeting place for friends after work hours, a venue where big events and concerts are occasionally held, or a place where people would meet just for chatting and exchanging ideas and views. The sit-in area was spontaneously utilized for all these uses while people were occupying it, but the purpose that was intended the moment the crowds reached it, was to make their voice heard. It was a political intention that led them there.
This political intentionality is an important characteristic of the utilization of public space in Khartoum. The memory of the city with revolutions and civil movements is an old one. A memory that stretches back to even before independence. It is impossible to write about public space in a city like Khartoum, without bringing up those moments, when thousands of footsteps were engraved as a vivid memory still imprinted on the sidewalks, the dirt, and the asphalt of streets.
Abdel Moneim Square –which later came to be known as Nadi Alusra or The Family Club– was the first stage of the October 1964 Revolution, where the funeral prayer for the martyr al-Qurashi took place. The second stage being Al-Gamma Avenue, where, on the twenty-eighth of October, thousands of citizens headed towards the Republican Palace, crowding the surrounding streets.10The angry footsteps of protesters resonated on Al-Qasr Avenue during the April 1985 Revolution. They spilled out into the street from Khartoum’s main railway station all the way to the Palace.11 As for the “Qiada” (Army Headquarters) itself – the Center stage of the December 2018 revolution – it is not a square but a group of streets surrounding the General Armed forces Command, and as a gathering point for a number of main streets, it is one of the city’s central areas.
Suffice it to say that with the exception of Abdel Moneim Square, most of the civil movements took place in streets, and not the public squares. Why, then, were most major political events associated with the streets? Why Al-Gamma and Al Qasr Avenues, and not Abu Ginzeer Square, for example? After all, squares such as Al-Tahrir in Cairo or Tiananmen in Beijing were center stages for important political events. Is it because Khartoum is already short on public squares? Or because the existing squares have their own problems? What prevented these squares from being the stage of such events?
A brief historical overview of Khartoum’s central public squares, such as the former Abbas, The United Nations, and Abdel Moneim Squares, as well as the remaining ones like Abu Ginzeer Square, can give us an insight into the reasons behind this. The story of the United Nations, and Abdel Moneim squares, in particular, can shed a light on the policies of privatization and repurposing institutionalized by former governments. The greatest manifestation of the state’s hostile policies towards the existence of a freely accessible and active public venue, is the fact that Abdel Moneim Square was once a hub for rallies and civil movements in the 1950s and 60s, but this role gradually diminished until it completely disappeared from the collective imagination.
Let’s start first with Khartoum city’s first formally-planned square; Abbas Square (named after Khedive Abbas). It was the central square of Kitchener’s Khartoum, and it continued to serve as the main square of the steadily expanding city, with the Grand Mosque in its center -as typical in many Arab cities- surrounded by the main market. The square was split by Victoria Avenue, the widest in Khartoum back then.14 With the continuous expansion of the city, however, the square gradually shrank as the buildings crawled and swallowed it, until all that was left of the original square were two small squares: The United Nations and Abu Ginzeer Squares.
Abu Ginzeer Square is named after the owner of a grave surrounded by iron chains (Ginazeer) that was located at the center of the square. In recent years it was cordoned off by a fence, and during the recent December 2018 revolution security forces were stationed there. As if paramilitary forces occupying a public square -as the most blatant manifestation of state militarization- was not bad enough, the square was converted, during the December revolution, into a gathering point for protesters arrested during marches in Khartoum’s downtown, from which they are sent to various detention centers.16 17
The United Nations Square had multiple uses; the southern part of it was a football field, and the northern part had a vegetable market called al-Zinc Market. It withstood the changes until Nimeiri’s era after which it became Al-Quba Alkhadra (Green Dome) Library, which was later demolished and the Waha (Oasis) Towers were built on its site. 18 As for the reason behind the square’s name, it was where the United Nations flags were once raised.
Abdel Moneim Square is the main square of the Khartoum 3 neighborhood. Its plan contrasted significantly with Kitchener’s original Khartoum plan. In contrast to the uninterrupted iron grid, Khartoum 3 was laid out around a circular center represented by Abdel Moneim Square. As previously mentioned, in the fifties and sixties, the square was the stage for important events in the city’s memory. Events that exerted considerable influence on the rest of the country, as seen in the Al-Gezira farmers’ sit-in in the square. On the 29th of December 1953, twenty five thousand farmers from Al-Gezira region along with their families, occupied the Square and succeeded in forcing the government to recognize their union.19 Another significant event took place on the 17th of November 1958, when the representatives of Parliament met to vote on a “withdrawal of confidence” from Abdullah Bey Khalil’s government, who tried to impede their efforts by postponing the parliament session and handing over power to the army the next day.20 The aforementioned funeral procession of al-Qurashi, which marked the beginning of the end for Abboud’s regime, also took place in the square. Colleagues and professors of al-Qurashi -a student at the University of Khartoum at the time – along with the citizens, who joined them, marched carrying his body, all the way from Khartoum Hospital, along the Isbitalia Street and across Hurriya Bridge towards Khartoum 3 neighborhood, where they held his funeral prayers in the square. His body was then sent back to be buried at his hometown, Al-Qurassa village in Gezira state. 21
The square was later converted to Nadi Al-Usra (The Family Club.) Its considerable size allowed it to host various sports, social, and political activities. It included arenas and halls for various sports, including tennis, squash, and billiards. It also hosted many political seminars. Most importantly, it was a recreational destination for the families who lived in the neighborhood and nearby areas up until the early nineties. From then on, the authorities began to restrict its use, then began to gradually cut off pieces of land and reassign them to various other purposes; sometimes as headquarters for government institutions or security services, other times to be sold off to private investment.23 The fierce raid of privatization on the club makes more sense when considering the value of the land; the plot of land on which the club was built is among the most expensive in Khartoum.
What makes Abdel Moneim Square significant is that it can be viewed as a historical record for understanding the relationship between public space and the state. It was originally designed to serve the neighborhood’s level, and perhaps the nearby neighborhoods, not the city level. However, as evident from the history of the square, at some point it served a greater level than the city itself. The square also reveals the wasted potential of neighborhoods’ squares, as demonstrated by the period it was developed to house Nadi Al-usra. On top of it all, the square is an example of the hostility with which the state deals with public spaces, especially during the thirty years of the Inqaz era. This hostility created a clear pattern, evident in a systematic campaign to take over public squares, starting from the large city squares, to even neighborhood’s squares. The audacity of this takeover campaign reaches the limits of insolence in small squares scattered across neighborhoods, and far from the monitoring eyes of the public.
So how did neighborhoods’ squares fall prey to the greed of governments and private investors? To understand this we must answer a few questions: How was this expropriation trend initiated? And how did the urban planning of the city in general and the urban design of these very squares facilitate the continuation of this trend?
According to Dr. Osman Al-Khair, an architect and researcher specializing in the field of human settlements, It can be argued that the first seeds of this pattern were sown in Abboud’s regime, the first military dictatorship. During Abboud’s era, residential districts were planned with vastly spacious squares, e.g. Al-Thawrats in Omdurman. Later, during Nimeiri’s regime and its successive financial crises, the government turned its gaze toward these vast squares, with their land values increasing as they were now located in the center of the expanding city. Nimeiri’s administration began to slice off longitudinal strips of land from the squares’ perimeters and divide them into residential plots to be auctioned off. Since these squares were larger than the neighbourhoods’ needs, this step in and of itself was not problematic, as it was an attempt to control the urban sprawl of the city that was spiraling out of control. The problem is that this policy has opened the door wide for the expropriation of these squares.24
One of the most prominent factors facilitating this encroachment of neighborhoods’ squares, by making it difficult to notice and thus to take action against, is the fact that most of these squares are virtually deserted. The empty plots of land are devoid of life and rarely ever utilized, and if so, then mostly as a landfill or a shortcut. According to Dr. Othman Al-Khair, The abandonment and the subsequent desertion of these squares was likely a result of service facilities and commercial activities concentrating on the perimeter of the neighborhoods, to be closer to the asphalted main street. This resulted in the death of the neighborhoods’ inner center, which is usually where the square is situated. This desertion alienates it from the memory of the neighborhood’s residents, and thus further distances it from the eyes of public monitoring.25
Of course, this reasoning alone is not enough to completely account for the shrinking of these squares. However, when adding to all of the above an elastic planning law, with no clear checks and balances for the officials entrusted to implement it, and without regulations explaining it, the equation becomes complete to strip the neighborhoods of squares and the city itself of public spaces.
Perhaps shedding a light on some of the legal aspects concerning the planning and use of public space, can offer a glimpse into the previous regime’s perspective on public spaces. It can also further explain the reasons behind the vague and elastic bureaucratic procedures that hinder the protection of these spaces, thereby facilitating their grapping and privatization .
According to Salwa Abasam, A lawyer and an activist in civil society organizations, The current law regulating the planning and use of land is The 1994 Urban Planning and Land Disposal Act, that replaced The 1406 AH Land Disposal Act, The 1406 AH Urban Planning Act and The 1950 Town Replanning Act.26 The 1994 Act is brief, with only 49 articles, therefore, it needs a lot of explanatory and complementary regulations, and this is exactly where the problems with this law begin. But before we delve into these problems, we must have an understanding of the officials and institutions involved in implementing this law. First, there is The Federal Urban Planning and Land Disposal Council, which is the body primarily responsible for setting general policies and plans and overseeing their implementation. Then for each state, there is the Minister of Urban Planning and The State Planning Committee.27
Within the jurisdiction of the Supreme Council for Urban Planning, detailed in Article 8 of the 1994 Act, is to “Approve the change of field of land use…with the exception of public spaces and squares.”28 The jurisdiction to change the land use of public spaces was granted to the minister and the planning committee in their respective states, in accordance with Article 9, which defines the authorities of the minister, on whom also falls the task of approving directed maps. These maps detail the required services for the area as well as land use, including public spaces and squares. Article 9 grants the minister the authority to “recommend the change of use of public spaces and squares, for any purpose, where necessity requires the same.“29 and assigns the task of approving or rejecting this recommendation to the state planning committee; i.e. , it is the committee that determines what is a “necessity” that requires change. The odd contradiction is that the decisions of this committee are appealed by the minister himself. According to Article 42, The Minister also has the authority to “…dispose of the planned land the purposes of which have been specified, by way of preferential allotment…”30 The article regulates this allocation which goes through the same aforementioned procedure, of being approved or rejected by the state’s planning committee.
Now back to the problematic part of the law. Salwa Abasam explains that expressions such as “where necessity requires the same.” are loose, flexible, and can be interpreted at the whims of the executive authorities. The ideal situation is that any ambiguities of this nature should be detailed and clarified in the technical and executive regulations of the law. In reality, what was actually happening is that throughout the past thirty years, there was a tendency or propensity to issue regulations that are inconsistent with the laws under which they were issued. Many of these regulations could not even be viewed as they were never officially published. For any regulation to become valid and acquire the legitimacy of a valid law, it must be technically sound and contradict neither the law it was issued under nor the constitution. Most importantly, it must be published in the Official Ministry of Justice’s Gazette, which is not the case with the regulations interpreting the 1994 Urban Planning and Land Disposal act.31
The lack of transparency and the ambiguity of this law, and consequently the bureaucratic procedures, makes the task of monitoring the executive authority and safeguarding public interests next to impossible. How can people be expected to know that repurposing this square, or selling off this public space Was in violation of a law they weren’t aware of existing in the first place? This policy of keeping the general public in the dark is not a new concept to the Inqaz regime, rather it is the very tactic which enabled it to stay in power for thirty years, and this blackout is not limited to the land administration but extends to the entire body of the executive authority.
Governments’ policies towards public spaces reflect their appreciation of the public sphere in general, whether real or virtual, as a free venue to exchange opinions in an open society that interacts among itself. Public spaces are an integral part of this interaction process and an important stage for it to take place. Dictatorships always tend to restrict this interaction, driven by a survival instinct to fiercely defend their existence against the consequences of this free interaction. consequences that start with protesting a certain program or policy, to even protesting the existence of the dictatorship itself. On the other hand, and as the Washington Post’s slogan suggests, “democracy dies in darkness.” A healthy democracy can only be born in a sphere that is open and accessible to everyone in the society with no exceptions, and it cannot be sustained in the absence of public spaces that embrace people from all walks of life.
Main Artwork: Azza Mohamed