In January, Sudan’s army-backed government issued a new 1,000 Sudanese pound banknote, sending people into panic and the banking system into chaos. The streets of Port Sudan, the de facto wartime capital, were filled with citizens scrambling to file cash into their bank accounts, which should then be turned into the new currency.

“The process of exchanging old currency for new proved to be highly inefficient and cumbersome,” Dr. Mohamed Osman, who works at the Bank of Sudan, tells OkayAfrica. “A very short timeline was set for the exchange, leading to overcrowded banks, a severe cash shortage, and a general paralysis of commercial activity.”

The first images of this political decision were long lines of people who would sometimes wait outside their bank branches for days with no success exchanging their money. The second group was the same disbelieving citizens who were left without cash when the government realized that the banks could not print enough new notes to replace the old ones.

As a result, grocers, gas stations, and rickshaw drivers no longer accepted the old currency, but citizens did not have the new one to pay for necessary amenities. Banks began relying on digital currency, and in an unexpected turn, a country ravaged by war underwent a rapid transformation towards online banking.

“Following the deterioration of Sudan's economy, the government implemented a plan to bring money back into the banking system,” says Osman. “This was crucial because, since the Omar al-Bashir regime, most of the circulating currency had been held by individuals. Recovering these hoarded funds was seen as a potential way to revitalize the economy.”

This was the official narrative, but replacing 500 and 1,000 Sudanese pound banknotes (worth around $0.25 and $0.50 respectively) with new ones was widely understood to be a political strategy by the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) amidst their ongoing war with the Rapid Support Forces (RSF).

“Another objective of the currency change was to recover stolen balances and funds in Khartoum and Al Jazirah states and return them to the banks,” says Osman. After the RSF had looted banks, the SAF wanted to regain control of Sudanese cash flows, implementing a currency that could not be used in RSF-controlled states.

Even before this war divided Sudan into a two-currency country, it caused the world’s worst humanitarian crisis, widespread famine, and soaring inflation. From 500 Sudanese pounds to the US dollar in April 2023, it just reached 3000, showing no sign of stabilizing despite the new bank notes.

“The people of Sudan started a revolution against Omar al-Bashir because the bread price was raised from 4 [loaves of] bread for one pound to 2 [loaves of] bread for one pound,” Almuthanna Abdulmoneim Alryeih Abdulgabbar, an electrical engineer from Port Sudan, tells OkayAfrica. “Now they buy one [loaf of] bread for 150 pounds.”

Presently, most Sudanese in areas controlled by the SAF rely on bank apps for their money transactions. The Bank of Khartoum’s “Bankak” is most widely used, but other banks have created their own apps, such as Faisal Islamic Bank’s “Fawry” and Omdurman National Bank’s “Ocash.”

“[These apps] were initially not accessible to everyone and performed poorly,” says Osman. Once again, people were crowding around their bank branches, waiting for hours to simply activate the apps.

Engineer Muhannad Hassan, who developed Ocash, explains to OkayAfrica that these issues stem from the banking systems, not the applications’ design.

“Obstacles for the user in using the application generally arise when the application system is updated,” he says. “This is when the user faces difficulty completing transactions and transfers through the application, as the update originally comes from the bank's databases.”

Accordingly, whenever the system is updating or down, people cannot pay for necessities. In a war-torn country, this reliance on digital banking puts citizens, who are already suffering in the economic crisis, in an even more fragile position.

“Amidst this changing currency landscape, a new type of trade has emerged: the exchange of cash currency for balances transferred via applications, with financial benefits,” says Abdulgabbar. “For example, if you want to receive 100,000 Sudanese pounds, the profit from the transaction could be up to 10,000 Sudanese pounds, where you transfer from any application and receive the amount in banknotes.”

This process, which Abdulgabbar calls “nothing but plain usury,” is forbidden in Islam, Sudan’s primary religion.

He agrees that moving banking to the digital sphere is good in general, but says that it was implemented at the wrong time in Sudan, and for the wrong reasons. Like many others, he believes that the currency change’s purpose was to benefit the army, not the people who have nonetheless adjusted to this new system.

Osman strikes a more positive note. “Despite the initial challenges, there has been a clear improvement in the transaction system since the initial period, with the process of opening bank accounts becoming easier for the general public,” he says.

"Sudanese families are not aware that Egyptians practice FGM. Amongst them, type three [the most extreme] is usually known as Pharaonic. So when we ask them whether Egyptians practice FGM or not, they realize that Egyptians must practice FGM because it's Pharaonic," Dr. Yussra Mohammed tells OkayAfrica. "During a [recent] conference, Egyptian organizations and activists were surprised that Sudanese referred to type three FGM as Pharaonic because, in Egypt, they refer to it as Sudanese. So they're throwing the blame on each other."

Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) is illegal in Egypt and Sudan, and yet 87.2 percent of Egyptian women and 86.6 percent of Sudanese women aged 15-49 have undergone it. In both societies, people believe that genital cutting is a tradition to preserve a girl's honor and, by extension, her family's.

In the first study of its kind, Equality Now and Tadwein for Gender Studies look at how perspectives around FGM might be changing in Egypt's Sudanese migrant communities. While it lays open several opportunities that could lead to its abandonment, it also reveals how little most people know about the practice and how much the nicknaming of the different types affects how people perceive them: as ancient, foreign, or religiously mandated.

Since the outbreak of war in April 2023, an estimated 1.2 to 1.5 million Sudanese have fled to Egypt. Equality Now, an international human rights organization that aims to protect and advance the rights of all women and girls around the world, and Tadwein for Gender Studies, an Egyptian organization with a mission to promote gender equality and address gender-based violence through research, advocacy, and community interventions, had been working to end FGM in Sudan and Egypt separately.

"When we saw the influx of people into Egypt, we thought that there was an opportunity to try and see what this migration means for the continuation or the abandonment of FGM," says Paleki Ayang, MENA Gender Advisor at Equality Now.

Economic instability, insecure housing, and obtaining legal status are among the many issues Sudanese are dealing with in Egypt. Although FGM is a deeply embedded cultural practice that is often falsely framed as a religious necessity, it is not a top priority for a refugee. So, could displacement be the reason Sudanese communities let go of FGM?

To find out, Tadwein interviewed 30 grandmothers, mothers, fathers, and young adults in Cairo and Giza. Half of them had been living in Egypt since before the war; the other half were refugees. They shared their varying knowledge of the three types of FGM, colloquially known as Sunna (type one), Sandwich (type two), and Pharaonic (type three).

"We need to debunk the myth that type one is harmless or religiously required," says Ayang. "People need to understand that the harms of FGM are physical, psychological, social, and economic."

The practice's main drivers are grandmothers; young men and fathers are the least informed. All interviewees claimed not to practice FGM, but Dr. Mohammed cautions that this might be because it is illegal in Egypt, and people will not go on record admitting that they broke the law. Most participants, however, were not aware of the law's exact ramifications; they merely assumed that it exists.

Both Ayang and Dr. Mohammed were surprised to find that neither Sudanese nor Egyptians know which type of FGM is prevalent in the other community. This is a testament to the tension between the communities.

In Sudan, FGM is usually done by a midwife, nurse, or grandmother, whereas in Egypt, it is carried out by doctors. In the study, many Sudanese said that they are not comfortable asking Egyptians for help or information due to the racism they experience. Not understanding how the system works and potentially jeopardizing their legal status could be a major deterrent to continuing FGM in Egypt.

In terms of ending FGM, Dr. Mohammed considers this lack of communication a good thing. "If the Sudanese find out that healthcare providers in Egypt conduct FGM, it will be on the rise," she says. Paired with the misconception that type 1 is not harmful, people will assume it is safe if a doctor performs it."

She continues, "When interaction happens and the families talk about FGM, God knows what could happen," she says. "So if we will intervene, we need to do it now."

Published at this crucial moment, the study is meant to be a stepping stone that paves the way for more in-depth research and campaigns, aiming to reframe FGM from being a legal or medical issue to a plain and simple human rights violation. It offers several recommendations, such as involving courts to enforce the law and elders to shift communal attitudes.

"There are now many female-headed Sudanese households in Egypt," says Ayang. "It's important to empower mothers with knowledge, confidence, and tools to resist whatever pressure they might face from their families and communities."

While Ayang admits that "There is no clear cut answer to whether FGM will be abandoned or continued," Dr. Mohammed believes that the factors that will help people abandon FGM are greater than those that provide room for its continuation.

Sudan's bid to sue the United Arab Emirates (UAE), alleging that the UAE is providing the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF) with weapons that are being used to commit genocide in Darfur, has been dismissed by the International Court of Justice (ICJ).

On Monday, May 5, the United Nations' top court in The Hague announced that it "manifestly lacked" the authority to continue the proceedings. Sudan had requested emergency measures to prevent genocidal acts against the Masalit tribe, which has been subject to ethnic-based attacks by the RSF and its allied Arab militias.

Since April 2023, the RSF has been in armed conflict with the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF), plunging Sudan into the world's worst humanitarian crisis. While both parties stand accused of committing war crimes, the RSF has explicitly been inflicting widespread sexual violence on women and girls and terrorizing communities across the country.

On March 5, Sudan filed the case with the ICJ, asking that provisional measures be taken and for the UAE to do all it can to prevent the killing and targeting of the Masalit people in Darfur. On April 11, the RSF descended onto Zamzam camp in West Darfur, home to half a million displaced persons, killing at least 400 people, looting and burning homes.

People are voicing their anger over the ICJ's dismissal on social media. "Lack of jurisdiction? It's the INTERNATIONAL court of justice; their jurisdiction is the whole globe," wrote one user on Instagram.

However, lack of jurisdiction refers to the fact that, even though both countries are signatories to the 1948 Genocide Convention, the UAE made a reservation against Article 9 of the Convention. Accordingly, other states cannot sue it over genocide allegations. The ICJ rejected the request for provisional measures by a 14-2 vote and ordered the case removed from its docket by a 9-7 vote.

"The Court concludes from the foregoing that, having regard to the UAE's reservation to Article IX of the Genocide Convention, this Article cannot constitute, prima facie, a basis for the jurisdiction of the Court in the present case," the court said in its order.

Amongst Sudanese, the UAE's relationship with the RSF is a well-known, undisputed fact. While there is no direct evidence of the UAE's involvement in the RSF's warfare, Sarah Nouwen from the European University Institute tells DW that Sudanese claims are based on suspicious activity.

"Flights are going from the United Arab Emirates in that direction," she says. "One cannot really explain what else would be there. The United Arab Emirates says it's humanitarian aid, but there isn't much humanitarian aid coming in. Many Sudanese say this must be arms. Otherwise, we can't explain how the RSF has been so successful militarily."