Photoville 2026: Surviving tomorrow
Bearing witness to the invisible war in Sudan
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Bearing witness to the invisible war in Sudan
Sudan 2025 © Moises Saman/Magnum Photos
The war in Sudan has created the largest humanitarian emergency in the world. Since it started in April 2023, the war has uprooted more than 14 million people and has dismantled essential services people rely on, including health care, access to food, and basic safety. Yet despite the great needs, Sudan has received little international attention.
In July 2025, photojournalist Moises Saman joined Doctors Without Borders/Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) teams in West Darfur, Sudan, and in eastern Chad to shed light on the war’s impact on people. The images he captured show profound heartbreak and loss — but they also illuminate the solidarity, strength, and endurance of Sudanese communities struggling to survive each day.
"For much of my career, I was drawn to moments of rupture, the visible markers of conflict that make headlines and shape our understanding of war. But over time, I’ve found myself returning less to the event itself, and more to what unfolds in its aftermath: the quiet, often invisible ways in which people endure, adapt, and continue. This work is not about the spectacle of violence, but about its residue — how it settles into daily life, into memory, into the fragile and ongoing search for home."
Saman’s photography will be showcased in “Surviving tomorrow: Bearing witness to the invisible war in Sudan,” an exhibition at the annual Photoville Festival from May 16 – 30 in New York City.
MSF physician from El Geneina, West Darfur
In March 2023, I traveled to Khartoum to spend Ramadan and Eid with my family, and to start German language classes at an institute.
Less than two months later, on a Saturday, the war began.
Around noon, during class, we heard the first explosion. Fighter jets screamed overhead. One of my brothers called, urging me to come home, but the bridge was closed. I broke my fast with strangers that night, then took shelter at a friend’s home along with other young women stranded by the fighting.
I thought it would be over in two days. But the violence only worsened.
[Eventually], with two other women, I decided to leave Sudan. My friend Asmaa had been recruited to a hospital in Chad, so I joined her.
The journey from Omdurman to Abéché, Chad, took 11 days. We crossed the desert in the winter cold, carrying water, biscuits, and our credentials strapped to our bodies alongside emergency contraception and post-exposure prophylaxis — precautions in case we were attacked. Most women never attempt this route.
We joined three men traveling toward Nyala via Chad. For five nights, we slept on opposite sides of a truck under thin blankets, the desert wind cutting through us. In Malit, near El Fasher, I stayed with relatives for a short rest before continuing to the Chadian border. One night, too tired to move, I lay under a blanket beside our vehicle and felt something press against me: a small dog, shivering, for warmth. I let it stay.
This journey was long and full of fear, but survival left us no other choice. There are no winners in wars, only losers.
Displaced in El Geneina, West Darfur
When I was still in Khartoum, I was eight months pregnant and preparing for delivery. Because of complications, I needed a cesarean section.
The doctor following my pregnancy was working in a small house rather than a hospital. He had been targeted by armed groups known for abducting doctors for ransom. He worked in secrecy, underground. One room served as the operating theater, the other for inpatients. The surgery was complicated. I lost a lot of blood and suffered internal bleeding. My child lived for less than 24 hours.
Six days later, fighting erupted near our home. We fled with nothing, not even clothes or possessions.
The road was long and dangerous. My [cesarean section] wound was not healing. My sister cleaned it daily with water and salt. It took 27 days to reach Nyala, the capital of South Darfur. There, a doctor told me the original stitching had been poorly done. He cleaned the wound and treated the infection.
Because of insecurity in Nyala, we continued to El Geneina. Here, it is safer, but life is still very hard. We left Khartoum with nothing. Our house there has been completely looted. Friends told us that another family has occupied it, changed the ownership papers, and now claims we bought it illegally. Even if the war ends, we cannot go back.
I have two daughters and two sons. I was married at 13. Now, with no home, no possessions, and no money, our future is uncertain. We don't know what will happen next.
*name changed for security reasons
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© Médecins Sans Frontières 2026 Federal tax ID#: 13-3433452
Unrestricted donations enable MSF to carry out our programs around the world. If we cannot honor a specific request, we will reallocate your donation to where the needs are greatest.
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