Sudanese

Adre, Chad – Sahra remembers growing up in el-Geneina, the capital of Sudan’s West Darfur state, determined to outperform the boys in her class.

After sitting her national examinations in 2005 and 2006, she decided she wanted to become a teacher. She volunteered in classrooms while pursuing a university degree, eventually specialising in education administration.

Then, in April 2023, war between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF) tore apart the life she had built.

The conflict has devastated Sudan, forcing millions of people from their homes. Chad, which shares a long border with Sudan to the east, has received a large share of those fleeing the fighting.

Sahra is now among nearly one million Sudanese refugees who have crossed into Chad, helping make it one of Africa’s largest refugee-hosting countries.

In eastern Chad, thousands of families arrived to find little more than open ground and trees to shelter under. For many children, there was no school to return to.

In 2024, Plan International and partner organisations established a primary school in one refugee camp. The school now has 1,059 pupils and 30 teachers – Sahra is the head teacher.

Teachers, administrators and child welfare workers have been recruited from the refugee community, allowing people who fled Sudan to help provide services for families displaced alongside them.

Leading from the front line

Chad was already facing a serious education crisis before the latest influx of refugees from Sudan. More than two million young people cannot read or write, and, according to the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF), three out of four pupils nationwide are taught by people whose own education ended at secondary school.

The refugee influx has added pressure to an education system already short of classrooms, teachers and basic facilities.

“Illiteracy is very dangerous,” Sahra says. “I want the children to be optimistic about the future because education prevents them from early marriage and violence.”

To accommodate the number of pupils, the school runs two shifts, one in the morning and another in the evening. Lessons cover mathematics, science, history, geography, Arabic and French.

But teaching in exile comes with its own difficulties.

Sudanese teachers have had to adjust to Chad’s curriculum while working across language differences. Chadian children may speak local dialects, while many Sudanese pupils speak Arabic.

“The teaching syllabus in Sudan is easy, but the one in Chad is difficult for us,” says Oummalnas, a teacher who fled el-Geneina in 2024. She teaches mathematics and Arabic.

“We need more workshops to improve our teaching skills and adapt to the Chadian system,” she said.

Protection beyond the classroom

At first, Sudanese and Chadian kids sometimes struggled to get along. Over time, those tensions have eased. The children now learn and play together outside school.

Plan International also provides safe spaces where under-fives can play, socialise and receive psychosocial support in the absence of formal kindergartens.

“We don’t separate education from child protection. It’s an integrated approach that helps create harmony,” said Kefa Mayange, Plan’s Emergency Response Manager for Chad.

For parents in the camp, school is as much about safety as education.

Charfadine arrived with his family during the heavy rains of 2023. Back in West Darfur, his children went to school regularly until the conflict forced them to flee. Three of them now attend primary school in Chad.

“We are happy when they go to school here [in Chad] because it’s a receptive place. It protects them from the violence coming from criminal groups,” he told Al Jazeera.

His hopes remain tied to the country they left behind.

“My ambition is for my children to be teachers to teach coming generations in Sudan and doctors to treat illnesses,” he said.

But not every child has made it into a classroom.

Nasradine, another parent, says hundreds of unaccompanied youngsters who lost their parents while fleeing Darfur remain out of school and wander around the camp.

“If those children remain outside school, our camps will be in danger,” he said. “This group could turn to crime and make our place unsafe. We just want help for those children to go to school.”

A struggle against scarcity

For mothers such as Roukhaya and Zenab, memories of their escape from el-Geneina remain vivid. They walked for about 10 hours to reach the Chadian border.

Yet both say life in Sudan, despite the war, had once felt more manageable than life in the camps.

Roukhaya’s children entered formal schooling for the first time after arriving in Chad. But she has watched older teenagers drop out because there are no high schools or vocational training opportunities for them.

Keeping younger kids in school is a daily struggle, too.

Azraa, a Mobile Unit Supervisor with Plan International, and her colleagues go tent to tent, encouraging parents to keep their children in class. In families with six or seven children, parents may send only two or three to school while the others stay behind to collect firewood, fetch water or look for casual work.

Every Friday, community centres hold awareness sessions reminding families that education remains important, even in displacement.

These efforts are happening despite a severe shortage of resources. Kefa says the refugee response in eastern Chad remains one of the most underfunded humanitarian responses in the world.

Children make up more than half of the refugee population, yet the 2026 Sudan Regional Refugee Response Plan received only 17 percent of the funding it required, leaving an 83 percent shortfall. Education remains among the least supported sectors.

At Sahra’s school, the shortage is visible every day.

There are no flush toilets, no electricity and no accessible facilities for children with disabilities. Pupils sit packed together on the ground or share benches.

Teachers and parents are asking for basic improvements: solar panels for lighting, a mobile health clinic, school meals and enough desks for pupils.

Abakar Mahamat Nour, an Education Officer with the Economic and Social Development Agency (ADES), a Chadian nongovernmental organisation supporting education and emergency relief, says the arrival of Sudanese teachers has created an opportunity for solidarity across the border.

“Chad and Sudan are like brothers; we share families,” he told Al Jazeera. “Having people like Sahra coming from Sudan to teach our children is a benefit for our country. They help our students gain new cultural perspectives and build new friendships.”

She lost the life she had built as a teacher and education administrator in West Darfur. In exile, she has found herself doing what she had planned to do all along: teaching children.

“Refugees have skills, experience, and dreams,” said Kefa Mayange, Plan’s Emergency Response Manager for Chad. “Like Sahra, we see them as leaders.”

Note: Full names have been withheld for safety and privacy reasons.

Built in 1875 and modelled on the Chapelle Saint-Marc in Lyon, the church was originally intended to be the chapel for St Joseph University, which was opened by French Jesuits as part of France’s colonial-era “civilising mission”.

Its pale stone facade rises above a busy Beirut street. Today, it remains under Jesuit stewardship, with Father Michael Petro leading the parish.

“It’s an interesting space, because it is on the edge of Ashrafieh, a predominantly Christian, francophone area, which has plenty of wealthy Lebanese people living in it. But it also has their domestic workers. From the start of the first waves of migrants in the 70s, this place became known as a place for them,” he tells Al Jazeera.

Every Sunday, during peacetime, the gravel car park is transformed into a cricket ground. Indian and Pakistani migrant workers play softball cricket while families sit on the sidelines sharing home-cooked food, catching up with friends and enjoying one of their few days away from work.

Today, the atmosphere is very different.

Instead of the crack of a plastic bat and Bollywood music spilling across the church grounds, rows of mattresses line the floors, and laundry hangs from railings. Men slouch on plastic chairs littered around the church, scrolling through their phones. Women carry blankets and washed clothes in plastic tubs. Only the children seem able to break the subdued mood, darting between adults and filling the space with bursts of laughter.

“When the war escalated, we immediately had large groups of Sudanese and South Sudanese come here,” Father Michael says. “They showed up because they would ask community leaders what to do, and were told to come here, as it is the first place they trusted.

“On one hand, that’s very beautiful, because people thought they would be welcome here, and they were.”

However, the strain of being a first port of call for so many displaced migrants is beginning to show.

Supplies are low, and tensions occasionally flare among those sheltering at the church. Father Michael says the church reached its capacity of 250 people on just the second day of the war.

“We’ve turned away more than 100 people in the last few days,” he says. “It’s a disaster.”

Mohammad says daily life has become increasingly difficult, particularly since the arrival of their son.

“We do not have enough clothes, especially now that the baby is growing. Also, my wife’s nutrition is not great. Sometimes she gets constipated, and then the baby becomes ill. We need more protein and vegetables. The diet is a huge concern.”

Living in crowded conditions, surrounded by uncertainty, has taken a toll on people’s mental wellbeing, Rufaida says.

“Because of the atmosphere and mental health problems, small problems become big ones. I said good morning to someone, and they didn’t like it. There are no big fights, but there is an underlying tension.”

Both say they understand why tempers sometimes fray. Many of those sheltering at the church have fled war, lost homes and spent months or years living with uncertainty.

Small problems become big ones.

by RUFAIDA, DISPLACED SUDANESE MOTHER

Their gratitude is rooted partly in what happened when Rufaida sought maternity care.

At Karatina Hospital, they say they were repeatedly overlooked by doctors in favour of Lebanese patients. “We were there to get papers so she could give birth in that hospital, but we were ignored, and Lebanese people were allowed into consultations first,” Mohammad says.

After waiting for three hours, a worker from the Jesuit Refugee Service (JRS), who had accompanied them to the hospital, intervened and helped ensure they were seen.

Through support coordinated by JRS and partner organisations, the entire cost of Rufaida’s pregnancy was covered, including prenatal care, the cesarean delivery and Ahmad’s vaccinations.

“It gave me comfort and peace that I was able to deliver in a safe environment,” Rufaida says.

Their experience is increasingly common among Sudanese migrants in Lebanon, many of whom have found themselves uprooted more than once — first by war in Sudan and then by conflict in Lebanon.

Rufaida’s story is far from unique. According to figures published by the International Organization for Migration (IOM) in August 2025, there are 164,097 migrants living in Lebanon, of which 14,854 are Sudanese nationals.

That number represents only a small fraction of the 4.4 million Sudanese who have fled their country since the outbreak of civil war in April 2023.

Some, like Rufaida, arrived on tourist visas. Others found jobs as concierges or domestic workers, under Lebanon’s kafala sponsorship system, which ties a migrant worker’s legal residency to their employer.

Human Rights Watch has described the system as, at its worst, a form of modern slavery.

About 3,800 Sudanese have also found asylum in Lebanon as registered refugees with the UN Refugee Agency.

For refugees in Lebanon, a UNHCR registration card can mean far more than a piece of paper. It offers a measure of protection from detention or deportation, can unlock access to aid and education where services exist, and, for many, represents their best hope of one day being resettled in another country.

Among them is 30-year-old Roudaina Mustafa.

Khartoum, Sudan – A senior Sudanese minister says more than three years of a devastating war in the country have “profoundly reshaped” its demographic makeup.

Minister of Human Resources and Social Development Mutasim Ahmed Saleh told Al Jazeera Arabic that his ministry was working with several partners to strengthen population policies and link them to social protection programmes.

Sudan has been embroiled in a brutal civil war between its army and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) paramilitary since April 2023. The war is estimated to have killed about 200,000 people and displaced more than 11 million, creating what the United Nations calls the world’s largest humanitarian crisis.

The war has also affected Sudan’s demographics.

Before the war, the North African country’s population was expected to exceed 64 million by 2035, according to official data. In 2020, the population stood at about 44.4 million, with forecasts of a growth rate of about 2.39 percent – one of the highest rates globally.

The war has not only displaced millions of people internally in South Darfur, North Darfur and Central Darfur states, it has also forced tens of thousands of others to seek asylum in neighbouring countries, including Egypt, South Sudan and Chad.

Saleh said the most significant demographic changes caused by the war included a general increase in poverty levels, a large segment of citizens losing their income, the deterioration of basic services in a number of areas, and a decline in the labour market and human capital.

To mark World Population Day on July 11, the minister said his government would work for the people – “the focus and ultimate aim of the state’s attention” – and strengthen social protection programmes.

Saleh said his ministry, through the National Population Council and with other state partners, would strengthen Sudan’s population policies and link them to social protection, the voluntary return of refugees, the reintegration of displaced people, and human resource development to contribute to rebuilding the country’s human capital as the “cornerstone of national recovery and sustainable development”.

He said that investing in people was “the real investment in Sudan’s future”.

“The more we succeed in restoring population stability and empowering citizens economically and socially, the closer we come to building a more stable, just and prosperous homeland,” Saleh said.

Population imbalance

Experts say Sudan is distinct in its demographic structure – it has a large youth population, with about 70 percent of the population under the age of 30, according to data from the last census conducted in 2008.

They say that its large youth population gives Sudan a demographic dividend that could drive economic development. But Saleh’s ministry said young people have faced challenges such as limited access to education, scarce job opportunities and widespread poverty, even before the conflict turned them into one of the worst-affected groups.

Khalid Saad, director of the Sudanese Center for Development Communication, told Al Jazeera that Sudan’s population crisis did not begin with the war.

Despite the country’s vast territory and abundant natural resources, it has suffered for decades from a clear imbalance in population distribution, he said.

“The war came to deepen this imbalance, redraw the demographic map through displacement and asylum, empty some areas of their populations, burden other cities with numbers beyond their capacity to absorb, while large numbers of people have returned to areas retaken by government forces,” he said.

Saad said the likely return of people does not mean the end of the demographic crisis, because returnees often go back to areas that have lost a large part of their economic infrastructure.

“The challenge therefore remains in rebuilding an environment that ensures their stability and prevents renewed displacement,” he said.

The war, Saad added, raises questions that still require precise answers: the actual scale of human losses; how the war has affected mortality rates; how it has changed patterns of marriage and childbearing; the impact of displacement and migration on birth rates and age structure; and how the emigration of skilled professionals will affect the size of the workforce in coming years.

Answers to these questions form the basis for any economic or social planning in the post-war phase, he said.

Data released by the National Population Council also points to a demographic imbalance.

Sudan’s urban population rose to about 17.9 million in 2020, with Khartoum alone accounting for about 42 percent of the country’s urban population, indicating a pattern of internal migration driven by uneven development.

The International Organization for Migration said that about 4.1 million people have returned to their areas of origin across Sudan. The vast majority — more than 80 percent — returned from within Sudan to nine states, led by Khartoum, Gezira and Sennar.

According to the organisation, the number of internally displaced people has fallen by 23 percent compared with the highest level recorded in January 2025, when the number of people displaced within Sudan stood at nearly 12 million.

Sudan has entered its fourth year of conflict amid a complex political and military landscape, with little hope of a resolution. Infrastructure has collapsed, and essential services remain disrupted.

Meanwhile, local and international warnings are mounting over a worsening humanitarian crisis, driven by shortages of food and medicines, and the difficulty of delivering aid to affected or besieged areas.