While the world turns its eyes away from Sudan’s brutal war, a quiet army of volunteers is keeping the country’s heart beating , They don’t wear uniforms, they don’t receive salaries, and they often work without recognition. Yet, they have helped nearly two million people, risking their lives to do so.
These are the Emergency Response Rooms—ERRs—a grassroots, decentralized humanitarian network built by Sudanese communities, for Sudanese communities.
To understand how this movement emerged, and what keeps it alive, Africalix spoke with Mohamed ElMujtaba Eadam, member of the External Communications Committee in Khartoum Locality’s ERRs. His words reflect not just an organization—but a resistance grounded in compassion.
Born from Crisis, Rooted in Solidarity
The ERRs didn’t start with this war. As Mohamed explains, “The concept goes back to older practices like Takaya—communal kitchens. After the fall of Bashir’s regime, youth-led committees stepped in to provide services the government failed to deliver. We supplied bread, gas, medicine—and during COVID, even oxygen.”
When war erupted between the Sudanese Armed Forces and Rapid Support Forces in April 2023, state services collapsed entirely. International agencies pulled out. Once again, the burden fell on ordinary Sudanese.
“So we created ERRs,” Mohamed says. “A rapid response model. Built from the ground up. No bureaucracy. Just action.”
How It Works: Bottom-Up Relief in a War Zone
ERRs now operate in 15 of Sudan’s 18 states. Each locality builds its own version based on need—supported by a national hub. The structure is fluid but effective: food, health, protection, and logistics are all handled by specialized volunteer teams.
Reports from local neighborhoods are compiled into daily needs assessments, helping ERRs adapt in real time. “It’s decentralized,” Mohamed explains, “but we’re highly coordinated. And everyone on the ground is empowered to act.”
They work where international aid can’t—inside bombed-out towns and red zones. Volunteers transport food by motorcycle, cook for entire neighborhoods, and even evacuate wounded civilians under fire.
“There are people who cross rivers in wooden boats to deliver food,” Mohamed says. “One of our volunteers did that for months—during storms. That same route became a path for evacuating pregnant women and survivors of sexual violence.”
Hope in the Midst of Horror
In the face of endless violence, ERRs have become a symbol of something rare: hope.
“Our greatest achievement?” Mohamed pauses. “Keeping hope alive. We created the strongest community-based network in the country—maybe in our history—under impossible conditions.”
And the numbers prove it. ERRs support over one million people daily, mainly through communal kitchens. Some of these kitchens have operated nonstop for over a year.
But the cost is staggering.
Over 70 volunteers have been killed. Hundreds have been arrested or kidnapped. Communal kitchens are frequent targets of looting or shelling.
“The biggest threat is insecurity,” Mohamed says. “But the worst enemy is underfunding. When we don’t have money, volunteers take risks—crossing frontlines, negotiating with armed groups—and some never come back.”
He adds, “This is why we urgently need flexible and sustained financial support from international donors, NGOs, and humanitarian agencies. The funding delays are costing lives. Every hour without resources means we might lose someone we could have saved.”
Mental Health, Motivation, and What Comes Next
For those who survive, the psychological toll is immense. “At first, we couldn’t even check on our volunteers’ mental health—too much chaos,” Mohamed admits. “Now, in calmer areas, we’re launching mental health programs. It’s urgent.”
So why do they keep going?
“Because if we stop, people will suffer. And if I don’t stand with my people now—then when?”
A Forgotten Crisis, an International Recognition, and a Plea to the World
Despite their scale and impact, ERRs remain unregistered and mostly excluded from Sudan’s formal humanitarian coordination systems. While international NGOs have offered support, delays and bureaucracy hinder the flow of critical aid.
But recognition, at last, has come. On April 30, 2025, the European Union awarded the Emergency Response Rooms the Human Rights Prize, honoring their extraordinary service in the face of war. This prestigious award marks the first time a grassroots Sudanese volunteer movement has received such distinction—affirming the global significance of their efforts.
“Funding is the lifeline,” Mohamed says. “We need sustained support, fewer obstacles, and more inclusion. And above all, we need the world not to look away.”
ERRs have also received occasional logistical assistance from Sudanese authorities, such as travel permits or coordination at the state level. Though not formalized, these gestures of appreciation have enabled volunteers to reach high-risk areas more effectively. “We’re grateful for any support—big or small—that helps us reach people in need,” Mohamed adds.
His message to global donors is blunt:
“Do NOT look away from Sudan. Fund the Sudanese people. Keep your promises.”
Will ERRs Survive After the War?
Absolutely, Mohamed believes—but not necessarily under the same name.
“The ERRs are just one form of Sudan’s social solidarity movement. In Khartoum, we’re already helping rebuild. Whatever we’re called in the future, this spirit will continue.”
In a country scarred by war and abandonment, the Emergency Response Rooms have done more than feed and heal.
They’ve restored dignity. They’ve rebuilt trust.
And now, they’ve earned the recognition of the world.
They’ve shown what real humanitarianism looks like—not led by mandates or money, but by community, courage, and love.
