“The world cannot allow this war to fade into the background”

On the evening of 14 April 2023, my phone rang in N’Djamena, Chad. It was the Director of World Food Programme. His voice was calm and steady: “The conflict in Khartoum has started. I’ve booked the WFP plane. Let’s go to the border.”

Two days later, on 16 April, we landed near the border between Chad and Sudan’s Darfur region. The road was dusty, stretching across a stark, arid landscape. The border itself was barely perceptible: a “wadi”, the dry bed of a river just a few metres wide. And yet, crossing it meant the difference between war and the fragile promise of safety.

There, we met the first families fleeing Sudan. Mostly women, children and elderly people. They carried mattresses, small bags of food, a few salvaged belongings. Nothing violent, they told us, had yet happened in their villages. But they knew what was coming. They had seen it before. Many told us quietly, with devastating certainty, that they might not return for a long time. For many, this was another displacement from Darfur, one of several over the years.

Under the shade of a nearby tree, we met the Préfet, the local authority responsible for the area. An educated, thoughtful man. His assessment was stark: “Whatever the outcome of this war, Chad will receive many, many Sudanese refugees, and the risk of destabilization is real.” He offered no illusions. But he was resolute: Chad would keep its borders open and protect those seeking safety.

UNHCR and WFP moved swiftly, supporting the authorities and host communities as arrivals increased. Weeks later, the flows intensified further south, in the same province. This time, people came with nothing. Houses had been burned. Loved ones killed. The trauma was fresh and raw.

Then came June 2023. The killing of the Governor of El Geneina in West Darfur marked the beginning of systematic violence against the Masalit community, that comprised the majority of people in El Geneina. Tens of thousands crossed the border every single day. The images of women, children and men pouring across that dry riverbed are etched into my memory - and will remain there forever. Amid the devastation, one message was repeated again and again: peace. An end to the fighting. Nothing more, nothing less.

Today, three years later, that plea remains unanswered. Since April 2023, nearly 14 million people have been forcibly displaced by the war in Sudan. Almost 4.5 million are hosted by neighbouring countries, placing immense strain on already fragile communities. Funding shortages are pushing families into impossible choices: onward dangerous journeys, or premature returns to a country still shattered by war. Inside Sudan, services have collapsed. Protection risks, especially for women and children, remain unacceptably high.

From Athens, as UNHCR Representative in Greece, I see how the consequences of war do not stop at Sudan’s borders. But Europe must not mistake arrivals here as the whole story. They are only the tip of a vast regional emergency.

What I remember most from that day in April 2023 is not despair, but clarity. People did not flee for opportunity. They fled because survival left them no choice. Three years on, the people of Sudan still need what they asked for then: peace. They have suffered enough. The world cannot allow this war to fade into the background.

Source: This is a translation of an op-ed hosted in Greek at the newspaper “TA NEA” on 21 April 2026. See the original interview here.