Missing the Nile - Experiences of Sudanese people in Brighton

INTRODUCTION

Since 1991 thousands of Sudanese people have made their home in Brighton and Hove. In recognition of this large, local community a Sudanese Memories project was set up in March 2004 with support and funding from Brighton and Hove Adult and Community Learning.

The aim of the project was to collect, document and present memories of the Sudanese community to the local community and beyond. We held a series of meetings with the Sudanese community to introduce the project and recruited five volunteers from the community who led the project. These volunteers received two days training from Kate Richardson at Brighton and Hove Museum, who facilitated the process of collecting information and gave support throughout the project for the group to produce their own archive. Each volunteer worked with four to five members of the community who each talked about something precious and particular to them. As they spoke of their lives at other times and in other places, their lives in the present came together.

The document was transcribed and then translated and the group choose the bits that went in this book. Jackie Wills and QueenSpark Publishers have, through collaboration with the group, helped to shape the materials into this book. The group have learnt important skills in producing their own recordings, archive and publications, and have a book that will be enjoyed by the present generation and as a record for generations to come. In this book you can read first hand testimonials and the impact of events on people’s lives.

Safia Mohamud
Adult and Community Learning Project Officer
Brighton and Hove Council

PARTICIPANTS:
Dr Alfy Latif Androaws
Abadeer Azir
Dr Ashraf Adel Raheem
Entesar Adam Shomean
Georgette Suliman
Houda Mohamed Alsarrag
Georgette Salama
Nagwa Yassin
Nasir Hassan Osman
Rosemary Eltom
Zakia Ali Khairy Osman
Yassin Elnour Ballal
Dr Maher Habib
Dr George Boctor

INTERVIEWERS:
Dr Wagdi Habib
Nagla Gerges
Maisoun Mubarak
Romani Latif
Salaheldin Elobaid Ahmed

Being two people: CULTURE, CUSTOMS AND MAKING NEW ROOTS

“I’ve always felt that I’m a very complex recipe on account of Egyptian roots and the Sudanese culture that I have absorbed and now that I live here in the UK, I feel that the recipe gets more and more difficult to digest.

“I felt there was almost a cry in me, somewhere for our roots. We were in love with our Egyptian music and always danced and that was somehow I think, a cry for a lost identity somewhere. And I lived with that for years.”

Rosemary Eltom

The world is smaller, people move for work, opportunities, because they can or because they must. How do you balance the question of integrating within a new culture while maintaining your own?

The question Entesar Adam Shomean asked herself when she left a job as a vet in Sudan was: “Are you going to be trapped in your own culture and reject the new culture?”

We all know the stereotype of the ex-pat who carries their old lifestyle around with them, refusing to adapt. Being unable to communicate because you don’t know the language, embarrassing yourself because you haven’t been sensitive to the culture, are not comfortable positions.

“The most important thing to me was that I wanted to adapt myself to the new culture, to make positive sense of it. I did not want to be in a vicious circle, to reject the culture of the country that I live in. That was one of the important things I had in my mind, how to find a solution,” says Entesar.

But while children are open to the new, adults inevitably miss what they have left behind, particularly if the cultural change is dramatic.

Nagwa Yassin Al-Noor Bilal, a plant agronomist in Sudan, felt the change deeply: “I came to this country as an adult, imbued with my culture, customs and traditions. In time I started to miss such things although when I came here, I did not come by myself. I started to miss the social life that I was used to. I used to live in a big family, with brothers, sisters, many uncles and aunts. My mother’s family is very big and so is my father’s family. I miss those things in my life here in England. If I am working, I am busy all day. In Sudan, the working day is not as long as here; people have time over there, although people are starting to work long hours now.”

For some, moving means going it alone, like Ashraf Adel Raheem: “When I was in Sudan, I used to live with my family; here I am totally independent and isolated. Here you do everything by yourself; you do not have people or a big family like over there. In addition to all this, there is a big change in the weather, language and culture; many other things affect the person socially.

“It was difficult, very difficult. Adapting is difficult because you change your habits. I have heard and read about people in the West before I came. I had some ideas about them, so I had no problem in integrating with them, but I could not make a wide range of friendships. Although I had a good command of English, it was a little bit difficult to get on with British people at the beginning. It took me time to get used to the idioms and daily vocabulary that they use.

“When you meet your neighbours they have strange impressions about you as a foreigner or a black African person. Some of them want to talk to black Africans and some do not like us at all, they have their own impressions about us.”

Sudanese people in Brighton form the largest group from any African country, although within the community there are different ethnicities, chiefly Arabic and black African. As a result there are different cultural and religious traditions.

But this is true of any country and Maisoun Mubarak sees differences within the UK as a reason for optimism: “The British as a nation have good things and bad things like any other nation. Some of them avoid foreigners, they do not accept them; and others welcome them and try to know about their culture; they try to socialise with them.

“In the twenty-first century, the new generation has started to reach out to know about other people, so they have changed their views, but some still keep their old views. In general they keep themselves to themselves, they do not interfere in others’ business and they do not like others to interfere in their business. Everyone keeps to his own space.”

Maisoun says her father brought her up in true Muslim tradition “to live anywhere.” This has given her a built-in sense of how to carry her beliefs with her.

“Real Islam teaches us to worship God in a Muslim way, to know God through Islam. It is not hard to be a practising Muslim in England if you take it the right way,” she says.

It is not always just a question, though, of adapting to a new culture. Rosemary Eltom sees the different cultures both in Sudan and Britain as part of a complex recipe and was coping with duality long before her life in Brighton.

“In 1988, we had a catastrophe at home. We lost our mum, we lost her here in England, and she was buried here.

“I was here for a couple of months, but then I went back to Sudan and that was the time that the rest of my family contemplated emigration, and that came as a blow to me, as I was not ready to relinquish my nationality, I wasn’t ready to emigrate, I wasn’t ready to leave behind a whole life that I was so attached to within my medical profession, lots of Sudanese friends who were very close to me, I was not ready for any compromise.

“In 1989 I met a Sudanese young man. We were not from the same background or culture so we could not quite come together in any kind of matrimonial bond, as society would not promote such union there. So it was quite a big challenge for my family and me.

“And if I am asked at the end why I did accept the theory of immigration it was because of love, I had to save my love, but I had to lose the other man which I was in love with, and that was the river Nile.

“My husband was an artist and I was in the medical profession. But my love of art was the other side of me – a deep love and passion for singing, dancing and drama. That drew me to my husband and we had to leave but we knew that the price would be very high, as we would leave behind lives, parts of us, and major parts of us we would leave behind. Probably buried very deep in the depths of the river Nile where both of us would go and watch the sunset, the African sunset that is enchanting and breathtaking, and the singing of birds at twilight, we shared that together.

“The journey from Sudan back to England was very complex and traumatic. Although we spoke the language fluently the culture barrier was there.

“We become two people in one, I never cease to be two people in one, there is that part of me that still lives in Sudan. There isn’t one morning where I don’t feel that I’m in Khartoum sitting on a tree branch on the nime tree, and I’m writing in my diary beside the river Nile.

“You adjust to becoming two people living here and back there. And somehow they have to be united. When I lived in Sudan, we were not totally Sudanese – being of Coptic Egyptian origin, but we did not live totally as Coptic Egyptians either.

“Integration yes, we have integrated of course, we have integrated, we have been here now for nearly 12 years. Our children now are able to cope, especially those who are born here. It is easier for those who are born here and who are able to absorb the education system, it becomes like drink for them, this is their natural source of learning.

“But for those of us who are bi-lingual and who came as adults, this is an ongoing battle. I think the biggest challenge of integration is how far can we integrate? Especially those of us whose social norm, social traditions were different. So how much are we ready to deny that social norm, that cultural tradition, how much are we ready to compromise and adopt the new social norms of this society?”

Family feast:
FOOD, DRINK AND MEALS

“Traditional Sudanese coffee is unique. The coffee beans are coarsely ground, then herbs are added, such as ginger and cardamom. The cups are scented with a special essence and the coffee is served from a long necked clay container, sieved through soft palm tree bark and served with dates as a sweetener”.

Nagla Gerges

Taste and smell are our routes into the past and familiar food can comfort us or, at times, intensify feelings of loss. Sometimes, the most ordinary rituals are the ones we miss.

Georgette Suliman’s memory of sociable family lunches after a morning at work shows us a different pace of life: “Going back home in the afternoon we’d find our mother making everything ready for lunch. This is the main meal of the day and the whole family gather around the dining table. It is different in England where people from the same house will not see each other except late at night – we’d meet at lunch and wait for every one to be there before we ate.

“It’s a lovely gathering when everybody chats about his day. Dessert is usually fresh fruits – my favourite was mango, banana and jawava.”

Is there a more organic approach to food in Sudan? Certainly there seem to be no fond memories of fast food and supermarkets. Rather, a sense of freshness and care is celebrated.

“Food in Sudan is amazing,” remembers Abadeer Azir. “There’s a place where they catch the fish in front of you, clean it up, then barbeque it or fry it in front of you, and you eat it completely fresh. It’s beautiful, the herbs they use are amazing, I think if I had lived there all my life I’d never learn how to do it. I loved fresh barbeques where they cook chicken shawarmas, lamb shawarmas…”

And Christmas turkey? Rosemary Eltom says: “the recipes we follow are very, very special. It is a stuffed turkey. The Egyptian tradition, Coptic Sudanese tradition, is to stuff the turkey with rice, nuts and raisins and it is very, very special.

“Also at Christmas every year, mum would bake barrels of ‘cahak’ like shortbread. We’d eat it with black tea with mint, flavoured with herbs.”

But for a summary of the main Sudanese dishes and drinks, we have Maisoun Mubarak to thank. Here’s her tantalising guide:

MULLAH EL TAGLLIUH: A red saucy dish famously used in weddings. Ingredients are: dry onion, dry ground meat, fresh tomato juice, dry okra, salt and spices (dried coriander, black pepper, cumin). Lightly fry the dry onion in oil with meat, then add the tomato juice and put in the dry, ground okra to thicken the sauce. Serve with logma or kassera (below).

MULLAH EL ROUB: A yoghurt sauce, used on all happy occasions. It can be cooked as a vegetarian dish or with minced meat added. Ingredients are: fresh onions, set yoghurt, fresh tomato juice, tomato puree, dry ground okra, minced meat (optional), salt, spices. Fry the fresh onion in oil, add the tomato juice, puree and minced meat, leave for a while then add yoghurt and okra to set the sauce.

EL KAMONIA: A famous meaty dish, used on any occasion sheep are slaughtered. Ingredients are: sheep intestines, stomach, liver, fresh tomato juice, tomato puree, fresh garlic, fresh onion, salt, spices (dried coriander, black pepper, cinnamon stick). Clean the sheep intestines and stomach thoroughly, boil them and clean again. Fry the onion in a bit of oil, then add the meat with tomato juice, puree, fresh garlic and spices. Leave to cook until the meat becomes tender, then serve with bread and hot chilli sauce.

DATE PORRIDGE: A sweet dish used especially to welcome a new baby. Ingredients are: soft/hard dates without stones, water, white flour/cornflour and atroon (a natural form of bicarbonate of soda). Boil the dates with atroon until they are soft, then add the white flour/cornflour too thicken the porridge. Add a little butter to the top when served.

FENUGREEK PORRIDGE: A sweet dish offered to a new mum to increase milk flow. Ingredients are: fenugreek seeds, whole or ground, milk, atroon, sugar and white flour. Lightly fry the fenugreek seeds in oil or butter, add milk and atroon and leave for a while to boil then add sugar and white flour.

EL SHERBOOT DRINK: Like beer in its effect and used to digest food, especially meat, which is why most Sudanese make it on Eid Aladha. Ingredients are: dates mixed with dried ginger, galangal, cloves, cardamom, cinnamon, dried yeast and sugar and left for three to four days before serving.

EL ABREIGH EL AHMEER: A herbal red drink used in Ramadan, the fasting month. Ingredients are: sorgum seeds left to sprout then dried and ground into flour. This flour is mixed with tamarind juice, hibiscus and spices (galangal, cinnamon, cloves and dried ginger), then left for some days to become sour. After that it is cooked like a pancake and put to dry. To serve, we soak it in water for half an hour then sieve and add sugar and ice.

TAMARIND DRINK: A common drink used in Ramadan or to welcome a guest. To prepare it, soak tamarind in water for a day, squeeze out the juice; add sugar and ice to serve.

HIBISCUS DRINK: A light refreshing drink for summer. Soak the dry hibiscus flower in water for an hour, sieve, add sugar and ice. To flavour it you can add two drops of rose or banana essence.

EL KESSREA: Known as Sudanese bread, it is eaten with saucy dishes. Ingredients are: sorgum flour and water, mixed and left for a day to become sour, then baked in light, thin layers.
EL LOUGMA: A sour porridge used instead of Kessrea. Made from sorgum flour mixed with water and left overnight, then added to boiling water to cook.

WEDDINGS AND FUNERALS

“Forty days before the wedding, they teach the bride how to dance; they start in the evening and continue till eleven o’clock. On henna night she dances thirty to forty dances, some with a sword and some with a whip, some with sweets. She changes her dress and her hairstyle for each dance…”

Georgette Salama

Carnival, ritual, celebration – here are weddings which stretch for days, for weeks.

Like Houda Alsarrag’s memories: “The first wedding was my sister Hannan’s in Elfashir in 1979. I was nine years old and my father, may he rest in peace, was manager of the water supply company so he was the third man in Elfashir at that time, and they were good days.

“Her wedding was not a wedding but a carnival. Our weddings in the Sudan go on for three days but hers was five days. Merchants closed their shops. A lot of people came from Khartoum from our family and the groom’s family and friends. The tradition is that the groom comes with his family to engage the bride and they pay a sum of money, which my father used to prepare the house of the new couple. On the first day my sister wore the national Sudanese dress, on the second day the wedding dress, then on the third day she did the Sudanese rituals like the spitting of the milk and the bride’s dance, changing her dress frequently, then on the fourth day was a banquet and the fifth day was as an open day…”

Abadeer Azir’s aunt’s wedding coincided with floods: “It was in 1988 I think, when we had the floods in Sudan. It was actually her wedding night when it started raining and about a couple of hours later the whole county was flooded. I was about ten years old at the time, and the water was up to my waist.”

But as Georgette Salama takes us through the stages, her recall recreates the sense of community and tradition she is describing.

First she tells us how workmates, friends and neighbours would chip in to help pay. “We used to make a list with the manager and other employees and pay our part; those who were close to that person might even contribute their whole salary without his knowledge.

“Sometimes friends and neighbours would bring sheep, sacks of sugar and flour, vegetables, fruit. On henna day, a hairdresser would put henna on the bride and her friends; they would sing and trill sometimes until morning.”

Then to the rituals: “Friends and a dancer would teach the bride dances – specific rhythms, like the Indian rhythm; each dance has a different rhythm. No men are allowed. They teach her how to defeat the groom by falling down when nobody is paying attention. When she falls, they count it as a goal against the groom; people become very excited, some of them are the bride’s fans and others are the groom’s fans. These things help people to live life with its bitterness and sweetness.

“In the old days, the bride used to dance in front of everyone, but now only women, the groom and his close friends attend.

“The bride’s friends or her mother’s friends prepare the bridal room; it is always done with sateen, silk or organza. They put homemade perfume, khumra, in the bed, and incense prepared with sandalwood.

“On the wedding night they slaughter sheep. The groom brings guests in decorated buses and cars to the bride’s house, they sing and beat drums on the way, and sing special songs for the groom. When they reach the bride’s place, her family comes out to welcome them with songs and trilling, they provide food and sweets; then the wedding takes place. I hope we do not forget these things.

“The groom brings gifts of clothes, gold and perfumes, Sheala, for the bride’s mother and pay a dowry. On the morning after the wedding elderly women in the family serve pancakes and pastries, and make a breakfast barbeque. Then they ask the bride to dance. The house will be decorated with coloured lights. Sometimes these ceremonies take about a month, just for one bride and one groom, nice days; we miss this.”

However, marriage is not defined by the ceremony that starts it. It’s a partnership and one that can provide a buffer against some of the more difficult times in our lives.

It helped Ashraf Adel Raheem find his feet in Britain. He says: “Of course marriage is a big change. As an expatriate I suffered from loneliness. Life was difficult here. I was trying to adapt in my work place and learn how to communicate with others, the weather and the way of life. For example even houses here are different, just small flats, and I used to live in big spaces.

“Marriage is an attempt to live with someone who understands you, your language and your culture or if the person is from your country, to get on with each other easily. The most important thing is to be satisfied with each other. Definitely marriage has made a change in my life; for example you find that you have someone who is close to you, looks after you, your food, and your clothes and if you have things in common you can do them together. Marriage has eased the difficulties of migration.”

While marriage rituals may or may not reflect a society’s attitudes, the way funerals are conducted certainly does underline how we deal with death.

In Sudan, funerals, too, are community affairs. Georgette Suliman describes the Sudanese tradition: “If someone dies in the house or in the neighbourhood everyone will be crying. We weep or cry loudly and do not keep our feelings to ourselves. When the deceased is being taken away for burial you will find people in a hysterical state trying to keep the body.

“We bury on the day someone dies. Neighbours will start washing the body, others will sort out the death and burial certificates, and others will prepare a shelter outside the house to accommodate the mourners. So you can see it is one big family. The grieving family will mourn for forty days and during this time people will come to the house to express their condolences, while neighbours and family members will take it in turns to supply meals to the grieving family and their guests. This is what I call nonpolitical communism; even your sad times you find that people are sharing them with you.”

WORK AND EXPECTATIONS

“I feel that the system has to be revised for people coming from overseas who are professionals, who are doctors, who are engineers, who are dentists. These people can give a lot to the country. By changing the system to accept these people, I think our country will benefit from otherwise wasted resources, and the professionals themselves will feel happy, they will feel esteemed.”

Dr Alfy Latif Androaws

Your place in a community, self-esteem, the desire to contribute to society, all these issues are tied up with the right to work and earn enough to support yourself or a family.

Work, for people outside the European Community, is not as easy to find as it may seem. Unqualified, manual or casual work is one thing. But to work in the profession you studied for over many years may be impossible.

A hospital registrar, therefore, finds himself working in a pizza parlour, a dentist as a taxi driver, an architect runs a newsagent.

Qualifications are not necessarily recognised, working practices and equipment may be radically different. Extra studies may be necessary as well as adapting to a whole new workplace environment.

Not surprisingly, these have a significant impact on how people make the transition from one culture to another. Some have to re-train, some change direction and others have to give up their profession altogether. These issues are particularly acute for anyone in medicine or dentistry.

Dr Alfy Latif Androaws was a GP in Sudan for 17 years before coming to the UK. He has witnessed the effects on professionals who are unable to follow their vocations here.

“My colleagues, doctors, suffered loneliness, depression, separation from the community for years and years until they got into the system.”

Dr Habib came to the UK as a student in the 1970s, then to settle in 1991. He was an orthopaedic surgeon and senior registrar in Sudan. In the UK, he works in a newsagent.

The repercussions of this are wider than the individual and his or her family. Dr Habib carried out his own survey of Sudanese people in need of counselling. He contacted 120 GPs in Sussex, 80 of whom replied that a counselling service was needed for Arabic speaking people. Counselling through interpreters, clearly, is not really an option.

It requires a big shift to no longer define yourself as what you do, explains Dr Habib.

“People came here to live, not for a better life. We sacrificed quite a lot,” he says.

“Qualifications are not standardised and although medicine is an international language, after 13 years, now I can’t practice,” he adds.

Entesar Adam Shomean had to go back to university: “When I first arrived I went to the social services and they supported me. But in the long run, one would not continue to depend on social services and casual jobs. I left my job in Sudan as a veterinarian, where I worked for three years. When I came here I faced the problem that I had to get more qualifications; I went to university and did a post-graduate degree in biology to enable me to work in my field.

“Post-graduate studies at Sussex University were good in two ways. I updated my knowledge, I met students and teachers who work in research, and so I came to know the work atmosphere in this country. Interaction between students and lecturers is different; there is a gap between them in Sudan. When I started in the laboratory there was someone studying for a PhD degree. We had one supervisor, a professor, and I found that the student called him by his name, just his name, not Doctor or Professor. He might be outside and if the supervisor was in his office, he would just call him from a distance. I was so surprised, but later I found that all the people did the same thing. They treated each other just as person to person, we used to go for lunch together, sometimes we would go to nightclubs together.

“In our group there were six nationalities, so you met people from all over the world, we were from Mexico, Canada, Greece, Egypt and myself from Sudan. This is not the case in Sudan. There all the people around you are Sudanese; you do not have a different culture. Here I managed to make friendships with some of the students, and it was very beneficial. You learn in a place with continuous changes.”

Ashraf Adel Raheem found work as a taxi-driver for a while: “Taxi drivers are the people who are best acquainted with what is going on in the town. I used to meet different people; they tell you different stories. Some might talk about their travels and their adventures, others talk about music or their journeys to Africa, they even give you some advice about back pain or talk about their social problems. A lady talked to me about problems with her daughter; others may ask you for help or to take them home late at night. Working as a taxi driver has helped me to know a lot about the society in which I live, things that I never knew before. I just needed some patience.

“I was trying to work to fund my studies to register as a dentist. A group of us, all immigrant dentists, formed our own group that has been recognised by the National Health Service and other authorities who deal with refugees. We got permission to study and work, and to do our exams through the British Council of Dentists. It is a big achievement; we were twenty dentists who managed to achieve this.

“There is a big difference between the equipment that we use over there and the equipment we use here, and the way you deal with patients as well. Yet in respect of dentistry skills there is no difference, dentists over there are qualified no less than here.”

Maisoun Mubarak has found her own path. She works for Brighton and Hove Council in a bi-lingual nursery, supporting children who are learning English as an additional language. She was a teacher in Sudan and has been able to draw on her skills in her job, as well as outside work in helping set up a family support group for Sudanese women and children.

But for those who cannot use their skills, clearly it can be a struggle to be recognised for the person they are.

Fasting and holy days:
MUSLIM AND CHRISTIAN TRADITIONS

“Every family that can afford it will buy a sheep and after the morning feast day prayers, they start slaughtering the sheep. It is then divided into portions to be distributed to poor people. We go visiting each other so they are very happy and joyful days.”

Houda Alsarrag

Two of the world’s largest religions, Islam and Christianity, are practised in Sudan. In both traditions, there are periods of fasting. Houda Alsarrag describes the Islamic month, Ramadan.

“When Ramadan was about to start I remember my mother started cleaning. Then my father would go with her to do the special shopping for this month, for example, abreah (thin flakes made of wheat dough) to prepare a special drink for Ramadan, weaka (ladies fingers) that was cooked with asseda (porridge) – the main dish in Ramadan.

“Before el fatoor (breaking of the fasting day) people gathered to prepare and pray. Then we had the prayer of taraweeh and afterwards took a stroll – some will go to the market to buy new clothes.

“In the last few days of Ramadan when the feast days are approaching, there was more special cleaning, baking biscuits and cakes. On the feast day, very early, when everybody was still in bed we’d wake up on the sound of the prayers from the mosque. I’d see my father wearing the white galabia (traditional long white dress). When he came home we’d have eadia – presents of money and sweets.

“The Dahea feast (feast of the sacrifice) was the big feast where we had the Hag rituals and sacrifice a sheep. We considered those days happy occasions – social as well as religious. We’d have our weddings then, too and circumcisions.”

Georgette Suliman explains that slaughtering a sheep would also mark a Christian festival like Christmas or Easter.

“We go to church then we’d have a booking at a social club for the rest of the evening. We’d stay there till the early hours of the next morning when we go back home. We’d slaughter a sheep for the day when a lot of food was prepared because the whole family dined together.

“Muslims used to celebrate Easter with us. We lived together in harmony and we had no problems. Most Christians had a barbeque on Easter day because of Lent beforehand. Then we went to bed early because Easter Monday (Shaam el naseem) was spent outside in the fields and gardens. This is an old Egyptian tradition but I do not know the link with Easter.

“People went out very early in the morning in cars, vans, and lorries to the outskirts of the city, the day was celebrated by Christians and Muslims and we spent the day together. Our family used to go to a friend’s farm in El-Kadaroo where he grew different fruit trees. Once we were warned by our parents not to pick the fruit but as usual we did and at the end of the day the farmers left baskets of fruit by our cars wishing us a safe journey back home.”

Old friends and familiar views:
HOMESICKNESS AND LONELINESS

“Houses here are different, just small flats, and I used to live in big spaces; this is an example of how everything in your life has changed. You even have to change the way you eat, the way you walk, to adjust yourself to other people.”

Dr Ashraf Adel Raheem

Our landscapes reflect us and we repay them by absorbing them until they become part of our personalities. When we pine for places and old friends, we are pining for the comfort they offer, like stories told over and over again.

Abadeer Azir left Sudan as a child. “I miss Sudan, because Sudan is a wide country, its wide in everything, you’ve got wide roads, wide houses, even the culture is wide. We have big forests where you can go hunting, the river Nile as well.

“We used to go to the forest with my parents, hunting for deer. One night I was sleeping under a tree near the Nile, and, this is my father telling me this, a crocodile came down from the tree and into the Nile. I was very young at the time, I didn’t know, but my father told me this story every day. I miss Sudan so much, I miss my friends, and my family, wish one day I can go back.”

The strain of exile eventually took its toll on Rosemary Eltom. “I started after a few years to get stricken with severe depression, the depression of lost memories of Sudan. Family life, the cultural life, the unity that we had there, we lost here. All my family got spread out, and after the loss of my mother it was a challenge to carry on without her. We had dad to look after and he was very reliant and dependant as, in my society, men of that generation can be quite reliant on women. I don’t ever remember dad ever cooking a meal for himself or making a cup of tea for himself.

“It’s a slower pace of life out there, it’s kind of a rush here and I’ve never been able to adjust in this sense, that I must achieve the daily tasks, as I would in Sudan. This life is really speedy.

“I was very attached to Sudan. Since my childhood, every night was very mysterious – the white and blue Nile would meet but would not mix for miles. And for years I was very attached to that, so when I came to leave Sudan, that was very, very difficult.”

Mental health is still not as easy to talk about as physical illness, especially if language is also a barrier to expressing yourself.

While Maisoun Mubarak is herself fluent in English, she explains that some Sudanese people have been living very separate lives, compounded by the pressures of not having proper documents or being able to travel.

A Sudanese women and children’s group was a way of keeping culture and language alive, as well as supporting families and bringing them together so they have a forum for discussing problems.

Dr Alfy Latif Androaws left a lifetime of friendships: “My friends who studied with me at the school, primary school, secondary school and even university in Alexandria. A few of them still live in Sudan, and I miss them a lot. My friendship with them was about 30 years long and really this is one of the hardest things.”

Fractured families, the absence of extended family can hit hard. Georgette Suliman says: “We miss the gathering of the whole family, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and all the relatives together. I remember a red metal sofa in our courtyard where me and my brothers and sisters slept, while my mother and father slept on the other one. When we woke up we’d laugh and chat, throwing pillows at each other and when we finished getting ready for the day this red sofa was made ready for the morning cup of tea.”

But going home does not always give you the answer – places change, people move, while the picture in your mind may be based on an idealised memory or time.

Mrs Zakia Ali Khairy Osman went back to her family home, ten years after leaving: “Our house is on the bank of the Nile where there are palm and citrus trees, vegetables and grass we used to feed cows, goats and sheep we had on the farm. Like most families in the area we also had ducks, geese and chickens. My brother and his small family live there now, but my sisters married and moved away to live with their husbands. Most of my friends have married and left the village too.”

Forests and social clubs:
TWO KINDS OF CHILDHOOD

“I left my country after spending all my youth there; this is the most important period of one’s life. Life has compelled my children to live outside Sudan, they have to be proud that they are Sudanese, to be proud of their culture and their religion; they should not be ashamed of it, they should not feel that it will degrade them.”

Nagwa Yassin

Children brought up in Britain will be different to parents brought up in another country. It is inevitable. How parents pass on their culture, though, is a question facing millions of people worldwide who are separated from their place of birth.

The issues that have confronted Jewish people, those from the Caribbean, India, Pakistan, Bangladesh and other African countries, have in their time been felt by people from Ireland and Eastern Europe. Parents have values they inherited from their parents and often they want their children to share those values.

Perhaps it is more intense in a world where urbanisation is happening so fast and families no longer have the same role.

Maisoun Mubarak is realistic. “I am not going to ask my daughter to be how I was brought up, but I need her to carry certain things with her. We have the same problems in Sudan as here – every community has its bad and its good. What is important is that the environment is healthy.

“My daughter will be bi-lingual in English and Arabic, but she will be English.”

Likewise, Entesar Adam Shomean accepts her children will be different to her, but she wants them to be true to themselves: “I am not quite sure about passing things on and what I want for my children. Definitely they will not be like me, because the circumstances and the environment where I lived were different from theirs. What I want is for them to be themselves. I want them to be beneficial to society, to be productive. What I will teach them is to be human, to be sensitive to each other, sensitive to other people, to treat people as human beings without prejudice about colour or gender. This is what I want for my children if God wills.”

Some feel it is important to ensure children are brought up surrounded by Sudanese culture. Nagwa Yassin, for example, does not want her children to lose their Sudanese culture, traditions and Islamic religion just because they live in Brighton. It is part of being human, she believes.

“Here, we live with different nationalities; there is no integration, there are no strong friendships. We found we needed a Sudanese women and children’s group to preserve our culture and religion for our children. We also have Arabic and Islamic lessons.

“It will never be the same as living in Sudan, but we will do what we can. I would like my children to pick up all the Sudanese culture and traditions. This is because I found that as much as I have been impressed by Western culture after I lived here for some time, I have to be proud of my own culture, religion and home country. If you do not have a homeland you do not have roots, and in the end you are not a human being at all.

“Children’s upbringing here is not like what we have in Sudan; here you have direct responsibility and the child is with you all day, especially if the father is working as in my case. Bringing up children here is very difficult; you take the whole responsibility by yourself…

“In Sudan even if you lived far away from your direct family, your aunts would help you, even neighbours would help, if you want to go anywhere you could leave your children with your neighbours and it would be safe. We miss this support here.”

Dr Ashraf Adel Raheem believes there are benefits for young people. “If we cannot go back and we have to live here for good, I say to them, take positive things from here and there and leave negative, old and unfruitful things. Here you will get a good chance, more than many others have, because you know two languages and two cultures and you take values from two directions. So be special and reap the benefit from your stay in Britain.”

Dr Habib is concerned about the impact of the British system on family relationships and the pressures on children to leave home. There are basic principles he wants his children to hold onto.

“My daughter will not leave my house except to go to her husband’s house and when I am old, my son will never put me in a nursing home,” he says.

But how does it feel, as a parent, to raise a child whose experiences are so different to your own? Is it just part of being a parent, anyway?

“I find it very hard to raise an English child, as I am a Sudanese Coptic, and I want my daughter to inherit something of what I have,” says Rosemary Eltom.

But she herself was different as a child. “I was labelled the dreamy girl at home on account of the many times that I would sneak and run to the river Nile and write poetry. There was a big Nime tree, which I still remember, and that tree grew with me actually. I would sit on a tree branch with my feet dangling down into the water for hours. Mum would worry, tell me dreamy people never achieved anything, but I carried on with my dreams – dreams of the impossible, dreams to change Sudan. And I always dreamt that if I ever entered the medical field then I would be part of the change, but that dream never came true.

“Family life was quite traditional, we were a family of seven, we were all accountable to mum and dad, we had to have permission for everything we wanted to do. At times I felt suffocated – even if I wanted to go round the corner I had to get permission, or at least tell mum where I was. When I compare being here in England and the freedom children have, I envy part of the freedom that I did not have as a child.

“I feel the complexity in my daughter is the same as the one I felt in Sudan. I was not totally Sudanese Muslim and I wasn’t totally Egyptian Coptic either. My daughter is almost 12 and she does not identify with my Egyptian music, she is into her pop music. At times she sees herself as British, and at times sees herself as a mixture. Her father is Sudanese and I come from an Egyptian background, but she is British born, so at times I do feel confused.

“If I ask myself what would I like to pass onto my child, the Sudanese culture that I lived in, or the Egyptian roots that I carry, or the British society that I am part of, it is very, very complex and at times I find it tormenting as well.

“I’d like to pass on to my child some of the moral values of my own culture. If I give an example it would be limits, I would like my daughter to know her social limits.”

A set menu?
SOCIAL LIFE

“Life in Sudan is a set menu. You go to school, elementary, preparatory, secondary, then you do your exams and go to university. Universities you attend are decided according to your exam results and when you finish university they ask you when you will get married; when you get married, they ask you when you will have children; when you get a child, they ask you for another one. When you have done all the things on that menu, then you become an acceptable individual in your society.”

Entesar Adam Shomean

Can individuality exist alongside tradition? Or does starting a new life elsewhere offer a freedom from social constraints that allow you to live according to your own rules?

A new country, even a new city, can offer opportunities that allow an individual to explore their potential.

“The way of socialising is different here. In Sudan you find that the elderly socialise with the elderly, young people with the young, and women with women, and there are gender differences. Here it is different; you find young people are friends with old people. In Sudan people limit their social relationships, for example those in universities or the same age group become friends, you do not find that people cross age differences or gender differences; you may have friends from the other sex, but they would not be close to you,” explains Entesar Adam Shomean.

“In Sudan we live in our parents’ house until we get married, whether we are male or female. Here it is different, people are independent and this might influence their social life. People are seen individually, not as a woman or a man, young or old. It gives you a sense of individuality, independent from your family in your social life. I like this way more than the way we have in Sudan. It does not isolate you as a woman, a man or an old person. Anyone can do whatever he wants regardless of the differences between people.

“Social relationships in Sudan make all people follow the same road, they do everything together, and you find the way of life for all people is alike. I call it ‘restaurant language’. If you try to do things differently, everyone will give advice; they say you are a loser. If you have stopped your studying to do something else, they ask why you are wasting your time. Although you are learning something new, they say that because it is not on the menu.

“You do not become yourself, because people all do the same thing, and you do what other people do. This is what I have noticed about the differences between here and over there.”

Sudan, the country,
SOME HISTORY, PLACES LEFT BEHIND

“We felt good smelling this early morning breath of the Nile, this environment which inspired Sudanese writers and musicians to create the most lovely poems, songs and music. It is not strange then that influenced by this rich environment, we grew up with a taste for arts, adoring music and reading.”

Yassin Elnour Ballal

“We are not an isolated nation or community, you will find in the Sudan different people from different nationalities and we learn about them and they learn about us. As for why we chose to come to Britain; we are used to the British people because we had a lot of them in the Sudan, we like them and they likewise, we know a lot of their habits and they know ours. Added to this we know the language because English is the second language taught in schools in the Sudan and as far as I can remember most of the Sudanese can speak English, it might not be good English but they can manage.”

Nagla Gerges

“After 1983 when the Islamic laws were implemented, everything changed and things were forced on people, politics of course which I hate and do not like to talk about but since I am here as a political refugee I have to say this. We started to experience things we were not used to and it went from bad to worse till we were forced to flee the Sudan which was the worst day, some of us came here and others went to other different countries, but leaving behind everything you grew up with, friends and family is very difficult and I miss every thing even the soil of the country and the walls of the house.”

Georgette Suliman

“During school holidays, my father used to take me to visit the family east of Khartoum on the eastern bank of the Blue Nile. They were farmers and I used to join them ploughing the soil, working the water wheel to irrigate the crops. We used to ride donkeys to transport the harvest of vegetables to the market place. We also hunted birds and went fishing and swimming in the Nile and played on its sandy beach eating from the goods of the earth dates, jawava, lemons, tomatoes and other things.”

Yassin Elnour Ballal

FACT FILE

Sudan is the largest country in Africa, bordered by the Central African Republic, Chad, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Egypt, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Libya, Kenya and Uganda.

The majority of the population are Muslim, with two other groups: Christians and those believing in traditional African religion.

Arabic is the official language. Major dialects are Dinka, Nuer, Llango, Zande and Moru-Madi, Nobian, Bijja and For. English is also spoken as a second language.

Khartoum is the capital city where the White and Blue Niles meet.