海角大神

Intisar Abdullah Kodi is only 21, but the list of what Sudan鈥檚 civil war has taken from her is long. The family meals shared around a table heavy with food. The big house where she had everything she desired.

But what hurts Ms. Kodi most is being separated from her fiance, Amjad.

Five months ago, her family fled the southern city of Kadugli, escaping the drone strikes puncturing the city as the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF) and the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) fought for control there.

That meant leaving Amjad behind. With a weak phone signal in the area where her family has found refuge, the two have no way of reaching each other. For all she knows, he fled home, too. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know if he is alive or not,鈥� she says, her voice breaking.

Sudan鈥檚 three-year civil war has ravaged the country, killing tens of thousands, displacing more than 20% of the population, and leaving millions at risk of starvation. But many of the war鈥檚 personal tragedies will never register in the world鈥檚 ledgers of suffering. The precious family photographs left behind. The child who has learned to go to bed hungry. And love suspended, held hostage to a conflict with no end in sight.

鈥淢y biggest wish now is to see my fiance,鈥� says Ms. Kodi, who is sheltering with three dozen relatives in the rundown shell of a building at the southern edge of Sudan鈥檚 Nuba Mountains. They have resorted to selling their clothes and eating boiled sheepskin to survive.

For months, Adam Koukou also wondered if he would ever see his loved ones again.

Before the war, he worked as a baker in Kadugli, specializing in pillowy Sudanese bread, while his wife, Hanan, cared for their 10 children at home. When the fighting began, the price of flour multiplied five, then 10 times over, he says. Finally, it wasn鈥檛 possible to bake at all. Mr. Koukou began selling charcoal instead, but it wasn鈥檛 enough. The children were always hungry.

Guy Peterson/Special to 海角大神

Adam Koukou, his wife, Hanan, and some of their children in a camp for people who are displaced in Buram, Sudan, Feb. 21, 2026. The couple were reunited after fleeing Kadugli separately.

And so, last autumn, Mr. Koukou decided to break his own heart by sending his family away.

In the soft dawn light, his wife left the city for a displacement camp 30 miles away, with a baby on her back, another small child in her arms, and a few of their belongings balanced on her head. The other children trailed behind her.

Mr. Koukou remained in Kadugli, trying to earn a living for his family. But as the weeks dragged on, and drone strikes battered the city, he wondered if he would live to see them again. Then, late last year, he watched a drone strike kill his friend Musa, and he decided it was now or never.

鈥淲hen you see something like that, you run for your life,鈥� Mr. Koukou says.

Under cover of darkness, he slipped into the mountains.

When Mr. Koukou arrived in the displacement camp and saw his family again for the first time, their clothes were ragged; their eyes tired, but it hardly mattered: They were together again.

Mr. Koukou and his wife embraced, their faces wet with tears. 鈥淚 couldn鈥檛 believe he actually joined us,鈥� she says.

Mr. Koukou held the children tightly. 鈥淗opefully, we never get separated again,鈥� he told his family. 鈥淓ven though we have nothing, we pray to God to take care of us.鈥�

Reporting for this story was supported by the Pulitzer Center.聽