When do we go home? – A national murmur – ✍️ Dr Tariq Ashiri
At the dawn of each new day, my mother, may God protect her and protect her, asks me to return to her homeland, even if it is a question that comes back each time we talk about Sudan, and she brings in her a return to the houses she left only after the start of the war.
This is a question that lies in the conscience of each Sudanese, which accompanies us in our exile and disturbs our nights, as if the fatherland had become a postponed dream waiting for the hour of the Renaissance.
We will return home the day we come back to honesty, the day we reconcile before reconciling with others. The day we realize that the fatherland is not limited to earth and borders, but in the values we have, and in the love that unites us despite our differences.
We will return home the day weapons are silent, and peace is intended to reside in our hearts before our cities. The day when everyone understands that war is only suffering, and that dignity is not built on the ruins of the fatherland, but on their unity.
We will go home when we have restored confidence between the people and their institutions, and we think that Sudan deserves sacrifices and not a fight in its name. We will come back when we brandish the standard of the reform and we will plant in each heart the desire of the Nile, the kindness and the Sudanese smile which does not know hatred.
A day will come when we will all come back … with site shovels, not war rifles, and we will write in history books that we are a generation that did not go, but which has rather gave his mind to the country.
The homeland does not disappear, but it awaits us – it awaits our return with reason, compassion and will to live.
We return home when we understand that salvation does not come from outside, but from the inside of us – from our collective consciousness and our determination to transform pain into constructive energy. The country does not wait for saviors, but rather its children who believe in it despite all the pitfalls.
We return home when the politician learns that governance is a task, not an honor, and that power is confidence, not a loot. We will come back when the official listens to the voice of the simple citizen, not that of his narrow interests. We will come back when we will reorganize our priorities: first human beings, education first, dignity first.
We return to our homeland when the north reaches out to the south, it is embraced the west and Khartoum opens its arms to all those who shed tears or sweat for this soil. We will come back when we know that Sudan is greater than our parties, more precious than our tribes and more sustainable than our differences.
The day will come when a new sun will rise on Khartoum and where the birds of the Nile will sing the song of return. That day, we will come back to what we were: a nation, strong of its faith, proud of its dignity and proud of its history.
We will come back, not as refugees in search of a shelter, but as children returning to build their large house, which has not been demolished and will not be demolished, whatever the strength of storms.
The absence can be long and the steps heavy, but the way back is marked in our hearts. The homeland is not a place where we return, but rather a pulse that lives us wherever we go. We will return one day, because Sudan is unforgettable … and the Sudanese do not know the impossible. The post-war Sudan is stronger and more beautiful
