In the midst of Sudan’s devastating civil war, a powerful story of resilience and unity emerges—one that challenges us to see humanity in the face of unimaginable chaos. But here’s where it gets controversial: Can art truly heal the wounds of war, or does it merely scratch the surface of a much deeper pain?*
Khartoum, a kaleidoscopic documentary, brings together five ordinary yet extraordinary Sudanese citizens—a civil servant, a tea stall owner, a resistance volunteer, and two street boys who survive by collecting plastic bottles. Their lives, intertwined by displacement, become the heart of a film that blends oral storytelling, staged reenactments, and raw emotion. Directed by a collective of Sudanese and British filmmakers—Rawia Alhag, Ibrahim Snoopy, Anas Saeed, Timeea M Ahmed, and Phil Cox—the documentary premiered at the Berlin Film Festival and later graced the 69th BFI London Film Festival (LFF).
And this is the part most people miss: While the film began as a cinematic love letter to Khartoum before the war, it transformed into something far more profound when conflict erupted in 2023. The directors, along with their subjects, were forced to flee to Kenya, leaving behind their homes but not their stories. With over 10 million people displaced, including everyone featured in the film, the project became a testament to survival and creativity under extreme duress.
The five protagonists share their deepest fears and dreams. Jawad, the resistance volunteer, confesses, ‘I’m scared of not seeing my home again.’ Khadmallah, the tea stall owner, reflects on Sudan’s identity crisis: ‘Some of us say we’re African, others say we’re Arab.’ Majdi, the civil servant, questions his own courage: ‘Have I been a coward or a brave man?’ And the two boys, Lokain and Wilson, offer a poignant perspective: ‘The rubbish is our treasure, plastic bottles are our gold.’
In an interview with The Hollywood Reporter during the LFF, Alhag, Cox, and Khadmallah revealed the challenges of making Khartoum amidst war. Cox explained, ‘It started as a cinematic poem of the city before the war, but it became a film born out of circumstance, born out of being caught up in conflict.’ The team used green screens, reenactments, and even drawings by the boys to continue creating when physical filming was impossible. ‘We realized the stories were all inside our participants,’ Cox added.
Finding the right voices wasn’t easy. Alhag shared, ‘There are many street children, but finding two boys I could feasibly film was a challenge.’ Even with permits, filming in the streets proved difficult, as locals were uncomfortable with children being filmed outside of school. Yet, the chaos of war brought an unexpected diversity to the team. Cox noted, ‘These are people who would never have met otherwise, but we all ended up in the same room, on the same mattress.’
Khadmallah’s journey to the film was particularly compelling. Approached by director Anas Saeed, a regular customer at her tea stall, she faced resistance from her family. ‘I had to convince my mom,’ she recalled. ‘Eventually, she accepted.’ Reenacting her experiences was emotionally taxing. ‘I think I had a lot of trauma,’ she admitted. ‘Whenever I was in front of the camera, I just cried.’
The filmmakers themselves became a family, despite their differing levels of experience and backgrounds. Alhag, the only woman on the team, initially felt distant but found unity in displacement. ‘The force majeure of the conflict brought us all together,’ she said. For Cox, the film became a catalyst for healing, not just for the creators but for Sudanese audiences who rarely see themselves represented on screen.
As the film concludes, it marks not an end but a new beginning. ‘We’re still displaced,’ Alhag noted. ‘Several of us are still living in Nairobi. It’s the start of rebuilding something different.’
Here’s the question we leave you with: Can a film like Khartoum truly bridge the gap between war-torn realities and global audiences? Or does it risk oversimplifying the complexities of conflict? Share your thoughts in the comments—we want to hear from you.
