Since the outbreak of war in Sudan in April 2023, when fighting erupted between the leaders of the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF), the number of Sudanese asylum seekers in Lebanon has significantly increased.
According to the latest figures from the International Organisation for Migration (IOM), there are currently around 14,600 Sudanese nationals living in Lebanon.
Although they have escaped war, Sudanese nationals in Lebanon are facing significant challenges in their daily lives.
Hassan Adam Mohamed, a 36-year-old from Rashad, Sudan, graduated from Alzaiem Alazhari University in 2016. He was once a bakery owner in Sudan, but he now struggles to find stable work in Lebanon, as he tells The New Arab.
“I’ve done a lot of odd jobs — sometimes as a baker, a delivery driver, or working in various warehouses,” he says. “It’s been hard to find something stable because we can’t provide proof of our education or work experience from Sudan.”
Adam Mohamed Bachir, a 35-year-old Sudanese man who arrived in Lebanon in 2010, shares a similar story.
“I’ve worked in supermarkets, as a mechanic, a storekeeper, and in computer repair,” Adam says.
“There’s also a lot of prejudice against us,” Hassan weighs in. “I think a lot of employers prefer to hire Lebanese people, so we often end up with lower-paid jobs.”
Beyond difficulties with employment, racism has also long been an issue for Sudanese nationals in Lebanon.
Each person interviewed by The New Arab shares their own experiences, with Hassan recalling one particularly bad incident that occurred in November 2024.
“A man was shouting racist slurs at me, telling me to leave,” he says. “He tried to touch me and initiate sex. It ended in a physical fight.”
Alongside these struggles, Sudanese nationals have faced forced displacement due to the recent war in Lebanon initiated by Israel.
Hassan was one of the people affected by the war. At 11 am on 20 November 2024, he stood 500 metres away from his apartment block in Dahiyeh, watching Israeli bombs destroy the place he had come to call home.
“We got a text to evacuate the building, and about twenty minutes later, the top seven floors were completely destroyed,” Hassan recalls. “I moved in with a friend I met at the club for ten days. After the dust had settled, I had to move back to my apartment. It’s on the first floor, so it was only partially destroyed.”
Amid their displacement, another Sudanese national named Fayad Ahmed told The New Arab that hundreds of Sudanese people were in need of refuge but were being turned away.
“A lot of aid organisations were turning Sudanese people away, saying they would only provide shelter and assistance to Lebanese nationals,” Fayad confessed.
Finding hope and comfort
During these challenging times, Sudanese nationals have found hope and comfort in a community known as the Sudanese Club, which serves as a social hub for the local Sudanese community.
Located in the Hamra district of Beirut, wrought-iron gates mark the entrance to the club, which has a somewhat austere appearance, especially compared to the nearby high-rise medical centre, bustling terraced cafes, and multi-storey apartment buildings.
Hassan invited The New Arab into the club’s front room, which is decorated with patterned sofas, pastel yellow walls featuring Sudanese flag paintings, and a cabinet displaying tribal crafts. A table is also arranged with coffee and china cups.
“Please, make yourself at home,” Hassan greets The New Arab. “That’s what the club is here for.”
Established in 1967, Hassan shares that he first came to the club after moving to Lebanon in 2019.
“The revolution created significant instability in Sudan, so I travelled through Syria before attempting to enter Turkey,” he explained.
“I encountered a problem at the Turkish border, which prevented my entry. Unsure of where to go, I travelled to Lebanon in search of safety, education, and employment” Hassan added.
This sentiment is shared by other Sudanese nationals The New Arab speaks with.
A shift in purpose
Before Israel’s war in Lebanon last year, the club served as a space for, as Adam puts it, playing cards, watching football, and enjoying Sudanese food together.
“People even get married here and have parties. We all celebrated New Year’s here a couple of weeks ago, and Fayad’s band performed traditional music for the occasion,” Adam elaborates.
However, as of September 2024, when Israel’s war on Lebanon began, the purpose of the club shifted.
With nowhere else to turn, Hassan explained that those who were displaced began coming to the Sudanese Club, and the space quickly transformed into a place of refuge.
“It is a real community hub, so everyone knew they would be welcome and taken care of here,” Adil Ali, another Sudanese national, tells The New Arab.
“Most nights, at least 40 people were sleeping at the club, and others would visit just to get a hot meal,” Adil adds. “Everyone came together to help provide necessities.”
Adil recalls how members of the Sudanese community gave blankets, mattresses, food, and water to those in need. Further donations were also made by the non-profit organizations Basmeh & Zeitooneh and Caritas Lebanon.
At present, after the ceasefire, most people have left to rebuild their lives and return to work. However, three people are still seeking refuge at the club, having lost their homes to Israeli bombs.
‘It feels like they have forgotten us’
Speaking of the future, one recurring theme mentioned by the Sudanese nationals is their feeling of being trapped.
“We cannot return to our homeland because of the war,” Hassan tells The New Arab. “But instead of feeling safe here, we are facing further instability — the economic crisis, the Beirut Port Blast, Israeli bombs. All of them have affected us in different ways.”
Due to such circumstances, Sudanese nationals are eager to relocate to other areas.
In November 2024, the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) reported that 2,727 of Lebanon’s Sudanese population were registered as refugees and asylum seekers.
Adam is just one of those registered. “The UN accepted my refugee status in 2015,” he tells The New Arab. “I have been waiting since then to receive information about where I will be relocated.”
The others The New Arab speak to tell similar stories, describing lengthy application processes and a lack of communication.
Adil recounts applying for asylum with a UN agency upon arriving in Lebanon in 2018. “My application was rejected in 2022. I was not sure why, so I applied again,” he says. “I am still waiting to hear back.”
Fayad also describes applying for refugee status with the UNHCR in 2017. “I completed four interviews with them, the last in 2020. Then they went completely silent,” he explains, visibly irritated.
Fayad adds, “I called them during the war in November to see if they could help me. They just told me that the file is still open, and I would hear back soon.
“As more and more years go by, it feels like they have forgotten us.”
‘Life cannot just stop’
While waiting for further updates from the UNHCR, many Sudanese individuals in Lebanon are focused on improving their personal situations.
“I am focusing on making myself more employable,” Adil tells The New Arab.
Currently, the Sudanese Club hosts a range of programmes designed for visitors to improve their skills. English, Arabic, and French classes are on offer, alongside computer skills programmes.
Adil shares, “I have been attending the English language classes hosted at the Sudanese Club. Once my skills are good enough, I might try to apply for scholarships to gain a master’s degree in Lebanon.
“We are all waiting — for news, for the end of the war, for job opportunities.
“In the meantime, though, life cannot just stop. The club has become an important space of hope, community, and safety during this waiting period.”
Amelia Dhuga is a writer who, after spending much of her life under perpetual grey skies in the east of England, started plotting her grand escape. Now she spends her time chasing the sun around Europe and the Middle East
Follow her on Instagram: @ameliadhuga
