In the shadow of a devastating civil war, Sudan’s national football team has achieved the near-impossible: qualifying for the 2025 Africa Cup of Nations (Afcon). This sporting triumph is not just a story of athletic prowess, but a profound narrative of resilience, identity, and the human spirit enduring amidst unimaginable chaos. [[PEAI_MEDIA_X]]
The conflict, a brutal power struggle between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF), has plunged the nation into a humanitarian catastrophe. Over 12 million people—nearly a quarter of the population—have been displaced. Widespread famine looms, and the western Darfur region faces reports of genocide, a grim echo of the atrocities that scarred the region two decades ago. In this context, football is not a mere game; it is one of the last remaining threads of national unity.
**The Collapse of a Footballing Ecosystem**
The domestic game has been decimated. Stadiums lie in ruins, either damaged by fighting or repurposed as shelters for the displaced. The Sudanese Premier League, once a vibrant source of local pride and fierce rivalry, has been suspended indefinitely. This systemic collapse has forced the country’s footballing institutions into a nomadic existence. Historic giants like Al Hilal and Al Merrikh, clubs with fanbases numbering in the millions, have become refugees of the sport. They spent a season competing in Mauritania’s top flight and now play in the Rwandan league—a stark symbol of a nation’s sporting infrastructure in exile.
As national team player Mano starkly puts it: “We don’t have a league, we don’t have anything, but we can’t complain because people in my country, they can’t eat, they don’t have food.” His words frame the team’s achievement not as a privilege, but as a duty performed against a backdrop of overwhelming suffering.
**The Coach as Counselor, the Team as Sanctuary**
The logistical hurdles alone are staggering. The Falcons of Jediane have been forced to play all their “home” qualifying matches in neutral countries, devoid of their passionate supporters. Yet, a deeper challenge is the psychological toll on the players. Ghanaian head coach Kwesi Appiah, who took charge in September 2023, has had to build a team without the guarantee of payment—a common reality for athletes from nations in crisis.
His role has expanded far beyond tactics and training. He has become a grief counselor and a source of stability. “I need to give the player maybe two or three days off, to make sure he comes back to himself,” Appiah explains, referencing the “several occasions” where squad members have lost family members to the violence. His philosophy is one of purpose: “We try to let players know, even though they’re gone, [they’re] looking at you and what you can do now for the nation.” For these players, the national team camp is a rare sanctuary, a temporary escape from personal trauma and a chance to channel their anguish into a collective cause.
**Players in Peril: From Death Threats to Displacement**
The war has shattered the personal lives and careers of the squad. Many have not set foot in Sudan for years, scattered across clubs in North Africa, the Gulf, and beyond in a desperate search for security and a livelihood. [[PEAI_MEDIA_X]]
Their experiences before escape reveal how the conflict has poisoned even the traditional rivalries of club football. Mano, a former Al Hilal player, recounts a chilling encounter that transcends sport: “The rebels used to stop us and make fun of us on the road. They’d say things like ‘You play for Al Hilal—what is Al Hilal? I support Al Merrikh. I can kill you right now and nobody will question me.'” This anecdote is a microcosm of the lawlessness and the weaponization of everyday identities. The threat of violence, couched in the language of fan rivalry, underscores how the war has dismantled social order.
**A Symbolic Victory on the Continental Stage**
Sudan’s qualification for only its fourth Afcon since 1976 is therefore a monumental feat. When they take to the field in Morocco in 2025, they will carry the hopes of a fractured nation. They are not just footballers; they are diplomats of resilience, their kits a flag for millions of displaced citizens. Their story adds a powerful, human dimension to the tournament, reminding the world that sport exists within—and often in defiance of—broader political and humanitarian realities. Their journey to Afcon 2025 is a testament to the unbreakable bond between a team and the homeland it represents, even when playing for it means playing from afar.