Al Amal Issue 05

 

 

 The Fifth Issue of the Al Amal (Hope) newsletter, produced by the Anarchist Gathering of Sudan.

 

Hosted by the French section of the CNT-AIT.  

 

 Sudan: The Khartoum Crisis or the Crisis of
Khartoum?

We notice that the proxy war ongoing in Sudan for the past
50 years has largely focused on controlling Khartoum. The
city has appeared as a dream for armed movements seeking
to hold the regime accountable and bring an end to power.
However, the crisis is not about Khartoum as a capital
housing armies and looters, but rather as a state that
complicates the humanitarian situation in Sudan. This is due
to more than half the population crowding into one place to
access basic services such as water, electricity, education,
and healthcare.

The result has been the inability to provide these services to
such a large population in one spot, which in turn led to the
marginalization of all other regions. These areas, by default,
became self-reliant and connected to the state only in terms
of formal authority. This created a deep class divide—not
just between rich and poor, but between residents of small
towns and the so-called national prosperity.

This marginalization continued for many years, eventually
pushing the populations of those regions to become pawns
in the hands of armed movement proxies, used to advance
political or military agendas or to ignite wars that cost
thousands of innocent lives.

Our understanding of class realities and class war is
inseparable from the need to solve our problems and manage
our revolution against authority. The current regime
continues to repeat itself with brutality, crushing every
remaining fragment of hope, and tightening its grip on
everything that could make life possible in this country.
Basic services such as water, electricity, and internet are
unavailable in most parts of Sudan, not to mention
healthcare and education.

This collapsed and fragmented country remains,
astonishingly, a coveted prize for military, Islamist-fascist
powers and their cheap allegiance to imperialist interests.
It is not acceptable for anarchists to propose solutions
through a nationalist lens. However, I express this sorrow as
an elegy for the efforts of workers and the struggles of real
heroes who sought to build a less hostile society. As we
work to expand our liberation project, we strive for it to be
inclusive. Even the social classes in Sudan—those who
know nothing beyond herding, mining, or agriculture—are,
in their own way, engaged in our liberation program,
pushing the boundaries of our emancipatory experiment as
far as possible.

 Sudan – A War to Dismantle into Mini-States

After it became clear to the people that the goal of this war
is to divide Sudan into mini-states—just as happened with
South Sudan and North Sudan—in order to seize its
resources, it also became apparent that its aim is to destroy
the Sudanese people themselves, making them more
accepting of new forms of domination and deals over gold,
agricultural land, Nile waters, oil, antiquities, livestock, and
other squandered wealth that ends up in the pockets of
mafias.

This is a land of materialism and fragmentation: thousands
of militias control specific areas, enforcing different laws
and constitutions. The terrorist state has also become
significantly weakened, as reflected in its attempts to seek
international aid and in its division of Khartoum's
reconstruction among foreign powers—airports to Saudi
Arabia, major projects to Egypt, and so on.

While the state has directed all its energy toward crushing
what remains of the people, diseases and epidemics ravage
citizens in Khartoum. The state is unable to even combat
mosquitoes; dengue fever spreads, killing thousands of
Sudanese every day. The staggering death toll is an indicator
of a sharp population decline—migration, wars, and
diseases have conspired to wipe out this region.

The continuation of war in Sudan no longer means its
survival. It is only a matter of time before the country is
broken apart into two states and loses half its population in
the newly born entity. This conflict is directly tied to foreign
imperialist powers and their policies of dismantling the
region—and here we are, witnessing their plans bear fruit.
– Fawaz Murtada

 EL FASHER HAS FALLEN TO JANJAWEED MILITIA
"Today, under the eyes of the whole world, we witness the
atrocity of the Sudanese war — how Sudanese people are
being massacred in brutal ways by the Rapid Support Forces
and the government.

Driven by authoritarian deals and the struggle to control the
country’s wealth, with the fall of Al-Fashir and the
extermination of the local population at the hands of the
Janjaweed, Sudan opens a new chapter of a long-term war that
could spread throughout the entire country. Either the fighting
stops immediately, or we stand one step away from a full-scale
civil war. Mercy and forgiveness for the martyrs of the
resistance."

 The Future of the Sudan Anarchist
Gathering

It is clear that we operate amidst a multitude of dangers. The
dictatorial military regime represents one of the greatest
threats to the group, in addition to the ongoing conflict,
which directly threatens individual lives. This situation also
provides an opportunity for ideological Islamist groups to
exploit the chaos.

We are convinced that struggle is an integral part of our
position and that it inevitably results in losses, but we are
also deeply committed to protecting the lives of our
comrades. We have witnessed a series of systematic
assassinations targeting the revolutionary community. The
torture of opponents of the regime is nothing new in Sudan;
it is practiced in the most horrific ways: burning, rape,
driving nails into the head, inserting metal rods into the
rectum, and even crushing opponents in grinders. The
Muslim Brotherhood regime—or "Kizan"—the brutal
regime that unleashed the war today, is once again shedding
blood and displacing populations, leaving Sudan like a vast
graveyard where not a glimmer of hope shines. Amidst all
this, the most tragic stories unfold: entire cities under siege,
daily massacres in towns like El Fasher, Dilling, and
Kadugli—cities the world has never heard of. This exposes
the lies and weakness of the global capitalist system in its
handling of humanitarian disasters.

We believe that it is the people who free themselves from
slavery and make revolutions. We also believe that our
greatest duty as anarchists is to raise awareness, resist, rise
up, organize, and denounce the brutality of power to the
world.

Sudan is heading either toward partition or another bloody
conflict; The images broadcast on television and in the
international media are only glimpses of the devastation and
destruction caused by these criminals. However, even these
atrocities represent only a fraction of what is happening
every day.

The continued development of the anarchist group and
network in Sudan depends primarily on resources. Although
the group remains resource-poor, it has made significant
progress thanks to the support of comrades abroad,
particularly in the field of cultural publishing and in its
efforts to achieve economic independence. However, it
needs additional impetus to face all these difficulties.
We continue to strive to build a strong movement in Africa
and around the world. Every day, we face challenges and
dangers that we cannot overcome without strong global
solidarity. This is why we strive every day to resist and
continue to resist.

Long live freedom!
Long live anarchism!

 
Disclaimer: currently the Sudan anarchist gathering do not have
any facebook page. We are not liable for the information
published on Facebook on our behalf.

 TUNISIA: GABES WANTS TO LIVE!

In southern Tunisia, the Gabès region has once again be-
come the heart of the revolt. For decades, this land has been
sacrificed to an industrial complex that poisons the air, the
sea, and its inhabitants in the name of "development."
Cancer has become an everyday word, the sea a dump, and
life itself a negotiation with death.

A new wave of protests has erupted around a single demand:
the right to live, and with it, the immediate closure of the
chemical complex. This demand is not new, but this time it
carries a deeper awareness: there can be no reform or com-
promise where life is denied.

The movement rejects all representation. It does not wait for
the state, the political parties, or the unions. It is organizing
horizontally, from the grassroots up. After decades of lies
and repression, it bears the truth of those who have nothing
left to lose but their poisoned air.

The state clearly reveals its nature: led by the police, it re-
sponds neither with dialogue nor justice, but with surveil-
lance, repression, and intimidation. The machine of power
reactivates its usual arsenal: accusations of treason, manip-
ulation of political forces, and incessant attempts to divide
and discredit the protesters. Yet the message from the resi-
dents remains disarmingly simple: living is not a crime.
What is happening in Gabès goes beyond a simple environ-
mental struggle. It is a confrontation between life and a sys-
tem founded on death. Between the logic of profit and the
dignity of existence. Between the silence imposed from
above and the cry that shatters it.

Gaès is demanding the right to live—and, in doing so, re-
vealing the true face of the State.

 MOROCCO: LONG LIVE THE STRUGGLE OF YOUTH AND THE
POPULATION AGAINST CORRUPTION AND ARBITRARIZATION
AND FOR HEALTH, EDUCATION, AND FREEDOM!

For several weeks now, thousands of young Moroccans have
been taking to the streets, expressing a simple and just cry:
decent hospitals, schools for all, a life worth living, an end
to corruption, freedom, etc.

Rightly so. But how does the Cherifian and Makhzenian,
that is, royalist, state respond? Well, it responds to the
population by unleashing its watchdogs (police, Royal
Gendarmerie, army, etc.) and therefore with sticks,
truncheons, arrests, threats, and intimidation, etc. Moreover,
more than a hundred young people have been arrested in
several major cities of the kingdom: Rabat, Casablanca,
Kenitra, Marrakech, Agadir, Fez, to name only the major
cities. Well, these are the masks that are falling and thus,
here is the true face of the "open" and "moderate" Moroccan
regime, and this confirms as always what can be considered
a historical law, namely that when either the interests of the
State and/or the wallet of the masters are affected or simply
targeted, well the State does not hesitate for a moment to
repress those who dare to claim their rights, even a little.
And likewise, even when it is "democratic" or deemed as
such, the State is not a "neutral" arbitration body "above
classes and class interests", and it is nothing other than the
supreme political, economic and social organization of the
power of the capitalist masters, exploiters and their servants.

WHILE STADIUMS ARE BEING BUILT FOR THE BOURGEOISIE
AND A FEW VERY RICH PEOPLE, IT IS POVERTY FOR THE
WORKERS AND THE LACK OF FUTURE FOR THE YOUTH AND
THE REST OF THE POPULATION!

Yes, while the brutal and corrupt regime builds stadiums to
host the 2030 World Cup and other games and devotes itself
to the prestige and spectacle of the bourgeoisie, and while it
spends fortunes to improve its image among its masters in
international big business and imperialism, hospitals are
death traps, because they lack doctors, medical and
paramedical staff, equipment, medicines, and everything
necessary to provide quality care. Similarly, schools are
overwhelmed by the number of students, with teachers who
are underpaid and despised, and families who have to fend
for themselves.

Capitalism and its symbol of power in Morocco, namely the
royalty that represents it, have chosen: to invest in luxury
for the sake of a pseudo-prestige, arrogant and vain in order
to present a beautiful showcase, the true hidden side of
reality, and by definition invests in everything that brings
profit to the bourgeoisie, to what is dedicated to them and
their partners. And meanwhile, the popular and working
classes of the population are dying in the total indifference
of the Makhzen royal regime, if not in contempt on its part.

THE GEN'Z MOVEMENT IS A TOTALLY INDEPENDENT
STRUGGLE THAT COMES NEITHER FROM PARTIES NOR
UNIONS NOR THEIR BUREAUCRATS

This movement is new, fresh, vibrant, and full of hope for
the future. It doesn't come from the old traditional political
parties, which for decades have promised the earth but

delivered nothing in the way of results. It isn't even linked
to them, nor does it have any connection with the
bureaucratized trade unions, which, as always and
everywhere, are mired in "social partnership" and, as a
result, negotiate behind the backs of workers for a few
crumbs and to get the damage done under the best possible
conditions, in addition to being linked to the Makhzen
government.

No, this movement comes directly from the youth, from
those who enter the struggle on their own, and is self-
organized, that is, it organizes and operates without a leader,
without leaders, hierarchy, or any kind of leadership, and
without corrupt apparatuses, even though a perspective to
guide them is lacking. These are groups that organize
themselves, that communicate, that come together, and then
take to the streets together. This is where the spirit of
working-class and popular solidarity lies: the strength that
rises from below, without waiting for a supreme savior. It is
towards this strength that we must orient ourselves and it is
on this that we must bet.

WHAT THIS STRUGGLE TEACH US AND WHAT CAN BE
PROPOSED:

• Healthcare and education are not commodities and
therefore do not have to be paid for. They must be
completely free to be truly accessible to everyone and
managed democratically by those who work for them,
benefit from them, and make them a living (the workers
concerned, users, other staff, etc.) within the framework
of self-management. Access to these amenities must be
a completely inalienable right, regardless of the means
at one's disposal, and it is not up to the "State," much
less to multinationals and corrupt private individuals
interested only in money, to guarantee them.

• Self-organization is the key to deepening the revolution
and its democratic orientation. A perspective and
principles, yes! But no bosses, no leaders, and instead,
make way for popular assemblies, gathering workers,
peasants, and youth, make way for struggle committees,
for horizontal and democratically self-managed
collectives. It is together, through direct action, that we
will win our rights and our freedom.

• Repression will not stop anger! Do not be intimidated
by repression. Therefore, every arrest must meet with a
collective and united response. Solidarity with the
prisoners! For their unconditional release! Mutual
support against police violence! Let us remember that
the power of the state is in the minority, as are our
masters, and that all this is nothing in the face of
organized solidarity.

• Call for the splitting of the sovereign forces (Police,
Royal Gendarmerie, and army) to disarm this regime,
deepen the ongoing revolution, and ensure its success!
Everything is connected: healthcare, education, but also
work, housing, standard of living, and above all... real direct
democracy and the freedom that goes with it. The population's misery is global, 
so the fight must be too. We must put an end to this rotten capitalist system and its
dictatorship of money that keeps us on a leash!

OUR PERSPECTIVE: LIBERTARIAN COMMUNISM,
ANARCHO-SYNDICALISM AS A MILITANT TOOL

For us, revolutionary, anarchist and anarcho-syndicalist
militants, this struggle is not a simple protest. It is a wind of
freedom but it also reveals the total bankruptcy of capitalism
and the State and the royal system, as well as the decadence
of the monetary system, plus its harmfulness. Yes, as long as
the current masters have not been driven from power, as
long as the bourgeoisie is not driven from its positions and
expropriated and as long as wealth, heritage and decisions
remain concentrated in the hands of this ever more parasitic
Royal minority, well we will have only crumbs, despite our
struggles and what is more, which will be taken from us by
another hand at the slightest opportunity, sooner or later.
Because the existence of social gains and democratic rights
and freedoms, even if they can be wrested (with a hard
struggle nonetheless) in capitalism, are not at all compatible
with the existence of capitalism and money, especially in a
country where parliamentary democracy and/or a
constitutional monarchy are the preserve of castles in Spain.
We must gain access to healthcare and education, but at the
same time we must wrest true democracy and our freedom!
It is time to liberate ourselves, whether the State, the King
and his despotic system, and capital more generally, want it
or not. We must expropriate the bourgeoisie, that is,
collectivize all the means of production, confiscate all its
assets, both as capitalists and as a royal family, and in fact,
socialize these tools of production and these goods by
placing them in the hands of workers, peasants, residents,
etc. and ensuring their common ownership by those who
bring them to life and benefit from them, with democratic
self-management ensured through these omnipresent,
federated councils, and destroying/replacing this power.

We must build a community-based social and popular
system functioning without a state, government, or any other
power, as a social system also functioning without masters
or exploiters, truly democratic, direct democracy, in which
those who produce and live will decide collectively and will
have free and open access to all the conveniences of
practical life according to their needs..

THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING! THE REVOLUTION IS JUST
BEGINNING! CALL TO OVERTHROW ROYALTY AND DEVELOP
INTERNATIONAL SOLIDARITY!

The struggle of Moroccan youth is ours too. Internationalist
solidarity requires it. What is happening in Rabat or
Casablanca is only the beginning of the breath of the wind
of freedom, which could sound the death knell of this brutal,
corrupt and parasitic royalty and this story could also be
written in Paris, Algiers, Tunis, Madrid and so on, because
on the one hand, everywhere, capitalism has had its day and
on the other hand, it is the WORLD that libertarian
communism has to win. The State, capitalism and money are
not only obsolete and senile but in any case are only useful
to a handful of ultra-minority parasites who have it and who
sacrifice our lives for their profits and their arrogant and
contemptible prestige. Everywhere, youth, workers are
rising up, as also in Nepal, Indonesia, Madagascar, etc….
That said, it should be noted for a country like Morocco that
even if the abolition of the monarchy would be a major and
highly symbolic step forward, it would not be an end in
itself; it would be only a step, just a means, because
fundamentally, it is the entire ruling edifice of this country
that must be brought down and dismantled. Not a single
stone of this edifice must remain. And this revolutionary
approach does not consist of abolishing the royal
domination of the state, but rather abolish the class and
capitalist domination, without forgetting the instruments
that keep us on a leash, such as capitalist property relations,
money, etc. So we call for:

- To relay the voice of these struggles and of freedom
everywhere!
- To denounce and weaken repression and deepen the
ongoing revolution! This is only the beginning! The
revolution must deepen and continue!
- To split the regal and military forces of repression! - To
capture the royal palace in Rabat, not to "take power," but to
bring down the monarchy and dismantle its key positions of
power, and then ultimately to dismantle the state and
government from top to bottom!
- To replace the state and government with a federation of
workers', peasants', and residents' councils, federated,
autonomous, horizontal, and self-managed!
- To forge direct links between our struggles, beyond
borders, starting with neighboring and sister countries
(Algeria, Tunisia, Libya, etc.)!

- To stimulate an African social revolution because workers'
solidarity is international, if we want to see the birth of
freedom!

LONG LIVE THE STRUGGLE OF YOUTH AND
WORKERS!
LET'S TRANSFORM THIS STRUGGLE INTO A TRUE
REVOLUTION!
IMMEDIATE AND UNCONDITIONAL RELEASE OF
PRISONERS!
DISMANTLING OF THE REPRESSIVE FORCES OF THE
ROYAL STATE!
DOWN WITH THE MONARCHY, THE STATE, AND
CAPITAL! KING MOHAMMED VI, GET OUT!
FOR THE DISMANTLING OF THIS POWER AND ITS
REPLACEMENT WITH FREE AND FEDERATED
COUNCILS!
WE HAVE A WORLD TO WIN! LONG LIVE
PROLETARIAN INTERNATIONALISM!
LONG LIVE FREEDOM! LONG LIVE LIBERTARIAN
SOCIALIST DEMOCRACY! AGAINST ALL AUTHORITY,
NO BOSS, NO STATE, NO MORAL ORDER!

Anarchist activists in solidarity. To learn more, write to us at
contact@cnt-ait.info

 

Al Amal Issues 3-4

 

 

 This is a double issue of the Al Amal (Hope) newsletter, produced by the Sudanese Anarchist Gathering.

Taken from the website of the French CNT-AIT.  

 

 JUNE 30 AND THE SUDANESE REVOLUTION: A
PHILOSOPHICAL ANARCHIST REFLECTION ON
THE REVOLUTION'S DILEMMA AND THE
CONFLICT WITH ISLAMISTS

On June 30, the Sudanese street returns to movement and
turmoil. This date is no longer just a number on a calendar;
it has become a mirror of the rebellious collective
consciousness and a cry against renewed tyranny under
new guises. From an anarchist perspective, this day cannot
be viewed merely as a celebration of struggle, but rather as
a manifestation of a profound struggle between the masses
seeking complete liberation and the forces of the regime—
whatever its form—that are reproducing control.

1. The revolution failed to dismantle the old regime:

The Sudanese revolution was a spark of true freedom, but
it fell into the trap of a "peaceful transition" engineered by
the military and Islamist establishments, with the
complicity of civilian elites.

No new horizontal relations were established between the
people, but rather the same oppressive hierarchy was
restored. From an anarchist perspective, a revolution is
incomplete unless it dismantles the entire structure of
power, not merely reorganizes it in a more "advanced"
form.

The state has not changed; it has merely altered its
appearance.

Disclaimer: currently the Sudan anarchist gathering do not
have any facebook page. We are not liable for the information
published on Facebook on our behalf.

2. The conflict with Islamists:

Political Islam in Sudan is not merely an ideological
movement; it is an organized apparatus for control and
violence. The anarchist believes that Islamists practiced
"sacred tyranny," using religion as a tool for moral, social,
and economic control, suppressing all attempts at
liberation, especially those based on anarchist or anti-
establishment thought.

However, this conflict should not be understood as a
conflict between "secularists" and "religious people," but
rather between those who seek to reshape the world outside
the logic of authority and those who seek to maintain the
principle of subjugation, whether in the name of religion or
the state.

3. Problems of the Revolution from Within:

3.1 Reliance on Centralization: The Sudanese
revolutionary mindset remains stuck in the illusion of the
"leader," the "council," and "representation." Anarchism
calls for dismantling this illusion and beginning to build
horizontal societal authorities, starting from neighborhoods
and villages and growing in a networked, non-hierarchical
manner.

3.2 Lack of True Class Consciousness: The revolution
has sometimes been marketed as an elitist struggle against
"Islamists," ignoring the roots of class and ethnic
oppression in Sudan.

Anarchism believes that the revolution must connect
poverty, marginalization, ethnic oppression, and central
authority—all aspects of a single violent structure.
3.3 Creating Heroes: Some symbols have been deified,
which contradicts the very principle of revolution.
Successful revolutions are not made by heroes, but by the
conscious, self-organized masses.

4. June 30 as a Potential Anarchist Symbol:

If we want to see June 30 as a potential for radical
transformation, we must free it from its official symbolism
and transform it into a decentralized, cross-party, and
connected ritual of rebellion across neighborhoods, camps,
and the periphery.

June 30 should not be a day to demand a better
government, but rather a day to shatter the illusion of
"government" at its foundation.

In conclusion: The Sudanese revolution has not been
defeated, but hijacked.

The enemy is not only those who raise the banner of
political Islam, but also all those who wear the mask of
"salvation" to restore the same forms of control. From an 
 anarchist perspective, there is no salvation except by
shattering all illusions of the state and beginning to build a
free, decentralized, and united society based on self-
participation and radical equality.

 ON THE 139TH ANNIVERSARY OF
INTERNATIONAL WORKERS’ DAY, STATEMENT
FROM THE ANARCHIST GROUP IN SUDAN

This marks the sixth time we commemorate this occasion
since the birth of our group. We do so while confronting and
transcending what we’ve absorbed from the great social
struggles of the global libertarian labor movement throughout
human and anarchist history.

We draw inspiration from our revolutionary path, which
began in the heart of the 2018 uprising aimed at overthrowing
the regime — a path that passed through the horrific massacre
of the sit-in, the hijacking of the people’s revolution by
political parties, their negotiations with the dictatorial military
council, their power-sharing agreement, and the internal
conflicts that led to the infamous October 25 coup — and
most recently, the bloody authoritarian war of April 15, which
has created one of the worst humanitarian crises in modern
history.

Your comrades continue to fight with courage — raising the
banner of freedom, rooting anarchist values, and preserving
the group during these catastrophic times. We remember our
martyrs who fell while rescuing war victims, our comrades
who lost their homes, those displaced, and those still fighting
steadfastly across Sudan.

Our struggle deserves precise documentation — to be added
to the broader libertarian experiences of the world and
especially of Africa, this continent entangled in clear and
diverse authoritarian conflicts. We have learned that our fight
against authority must be comprehensive:

Economically, by resisting capitalism, wage slavery, child
labor, and the exploitation of women as cheap labor.
Politically, by resisting totalitarian systems, military
dictatorships, and fascism.

Culturally, by dismantling the primary support pillars of
authoritarian regimes in African states — tribalism and ethnic
division.

Globally, by preventing our people from being turned into lab
rats for global power struggles.

Sudan, a land rich in culture and ancient history, has been
weighed down by traditional and military authorities since
British colonialism, which set the stage for dependency
politics that continue to this day. Following the new global
pattern of dismantling peoples through militia creation, the
fascist regime gave birth to the Janjaweed militia —
responsible for horrific massacres beyond human
comprehension in Khartoum, Al-Jazirah, Wad Al-Noora,
Omdurman, Sennar, and Al-Fashir, which is still being
bombed and ethnically cleansed to this day
In Al-Fashir, we lost comrade Omar Habbash, a heroic
anarchist doctor who insisted on staying to treat the wounded
amidst systematic bombing and genocide.

 We also remember comrade Sara, who was killed in a
bombing in Khartoum — Sara, who always dreamed of a
strong, non-authoritarian feminist movement, a true anarchist
and liberationist front that rejects imperialism, understands
the core of the struggle, and is capable of achieving its goals
and freeing the women of our land from the machinery,
ideology, and propaganda of power.

As we continue to resist — treating our injured volunteer
comrades in dangerous zones, evacuating those trapped in
conflict areas, supporting the livelihoods of displaced and
homeless comrades abroad, writing, documenting, and
building self-sufficiency projects — we deeply appreciate all
those who have supported us. Your solidarity alleviates the
brutality of death, displacement, and killing. Even the
smallest contributions have a tremendous impact — they save
the lives of our comrades and uphold their right to exist as
human beings.

Today, we speak to you with the hope that this war — which
has destroyed the lives of millions, displaced and killed them,
and burdened their existence — will end. We promise
comrades around the world that we will continue to fight for
freedom and anarchism until our last breath.
Support our experience. Support our struggle.
We fight for a free anarchist society.
1st of May 2025
Anarchist Group in Sudan

 SLAVERY IS THE ESSENCE OF POWER

I notice that racism in Sudan takes several forms, but it is
important to understand that all forms of discrimination are
directly connected to the struggle for power or the structural
makeup of authority.

Some may imagine that racism is limited only to skin color—
black or white—but it is surprising that in a country where
most of the population is Black, there exists deadly racism
based on skin tone. The Massalit massacre, which claimed the
lives of nearly 20,000 people from this African indigenous
community about a year ago, marked a critical turning point
in exposing the true aim of this war: replacing and
dismantling independent social components with groups
subordinated to foreign powers pushing long-term agendas of
control over land and resources.

The Janjaweed, who identify with Arabism and practice
nomadic warfare tactics including ethnic cleansing, could not
have executed such acts without external backing that aligns
them with foreign interests.

Today, racism serves as a fundamental tool to boost the
morale of soldiers in both the Rapid Support Forces (RSF)
and the army.

The Janjaweed, through their leaders, now openly attack
specific tribal groups and clearly express their desire to
exterminate entire communities.

This is meet with a reciprocal desire for extermination from
those communities, creating a massive social rupture.
Over time, and with continued support, this rift will inevitably
lead to a devastating civil war that could claim millions of
lives.

In this context, anarchist struggle focuses on influencing these
social groups, reshaping their way of thinking, applying
pressure to sensitive individuals, and raising awareness about
the dangerous agenda of the regime—an agenda that leads
only to ruin.

No one wins a losing battle. The goal must be to build
conscious networks and alliances that resist the project of
social disintegration and civil war, and to redirect this public
outrage toward the regime itself in order to create an effective
movement that halts the ongoing bloodshed.
Fawaz Murtada.

 NEWS OF THE SOLIDARITY CAMPAIGN WITH
SUDAN ANARCHISTS

Certainly, the war had a severe impact on the forma&on of
our group, as displacement and dispersion were inevitable
consequences of the violent conflict in the country. However,
thanks to interna&onal solidarity, we managed to rescue
comrades trapped in conflict zones, bring them to safety, and
help them se-le into their new homes. We also assisted
others in finding shelter.

Personally, during the war, I hosted more than three families
of comrades, reinforcing the principle of solidarity un&l they
were able to stabilize their situa&ons.

Despite our limited resources, we went far beyond our
capacities. Most of our comrades volunteered to serve the
affected community and vulnerable groups, such as children,
women, and the elderly. Given the scarcity of humanitarian
aid and the worsening crisis, we had no other choice but to
step up.

Additionally, it was crucial to reflect the true causes,
dynamics, and developments of the war from our anarchist
perspective to the world. We also worked to defuse the
tensions that warring factions sought to escalate in order to
fuel the conflict by raising awareness about the nature of the
war. Another vital aspect of our efforts was educating people
about the dangers of war remnants and how to deal with
cases of captivity, detention, starvation, injuries, and war-
related waste.

Despite our lack of resources, we remain commi-ed to our
liberatory duty—spreading awareness in these complex
circumstances.

We hope to expand participation and broaden the scope of
the struggle.

The Anarchist Group in Sudan (13th of April)

 
Dona&ons can either be done by bank transfer (contact us to
know our bank details ), or via the electronic platorm:https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/cntait1
(please check "Send money to an individual" to reduce bank
fees). Send an email to contact@cnt-ait.info to inform us of
your dona&on. By doing so we will keep you informed of the
developments of the solidarity campaign
Donors list number 3 : Kevin P, 128,81 ; Penny S, 5,74 ; Meryl
C, 4,66 ; Silas C, 251,67 ; Silas C, 251,67 ; Ipass F, 2,26 ; Ian S,
9,14 ; Catherine B, 50 ; Ed L, 4,08 ; Maizy L, 23,03 ; Ed L,
5,54 ; Philippe L, 50 ; Daniel G, 10,63 ; Michel et Sylvie Q, 50 ;
Ed L, 2,66 ; Michael R, 15,57 ; Fil M, 100. Total of this list:
965,46 euros / Total transferred to Sudan anarchists since
the beginning: 8600 euros, Total transferred to Sudanese
migrant solidarity groups: 1402 euros
This bimonthly is published jointly by the Anarchist Group of Sudan,
the CNT-AIT France, and their friends. If you would like to receive
future issues, please contact us: contact@cnt-ait.info

 

THE SUDANESE WAR: A STRUGGLE OF
MASTERS IN THE ABSENCE OF THE PEOPLE. AN
ANARCHIST REFLECTION ON THE ABSURDITY
OF POWER

The Sudanese war between the army and the Rapid
Support Forces is not a conflict between two opposing
factions. From an anarchist perspective, it is rather the
delayed outbreak of ancestral violence, established on the
day the state was founded, not the day the war broke out.
The state itself, in this context, is not a "neutral entity" that
has deviated from its course. Rather, it is the structure that
produced this conflict and created all the conditions
necessary for its outbreak. In the anarchist conception, the
state is neither a collective umbrella nor a social contract.
Rather, it is a machine of domination, founded on three
pillars: monopoly, hierarchy, and violence. Whenever
formal balances collapse, this violence reverts to its
abstract nature: knives, shells, rapes, sieges, and massacres
in the name of "sovereignty" and "discipline."

The Army and the Rapid Support Forces: A Struggle of
Branches in the Absence of Roots

 
Both sides claim to protect the homeland, but which one?
Anarchism rejects this vulgar conception of the homeland
as a space subject to military control, considering this so-
called homeland as a mere map of influence, guarded by
gunpowder and invested in blood. The army does not
represent the people, and the Rapid Support Forces do not
represent the periphery. They are the dual incarnations of
the same power structure: one dressed in the garb of the
institution, the other emerging from a long-oppressed
periphery that has reproduced the tools of the oppressor,
turning them on the national body itself. There is no real
difference between the weapon of the state and that of the
clan when the objective is the same: domination.

The People, a Void in the War Equation

In all this, the people are not a party, but a void, a breach
into which debris is thrown, where violence is tested, and
patience is appealed to in the name of patriotism, dignity,
or religion.

From an anarchist perspective, war is not simply "against
the people," but rather its negation: there is no room for the
free individual, no voice for the collective conscience, no
will to resist outside the conditions of power.

Consequently, it is impossible to imagine a true "end" to
this war from within the system. Every military victory is
another defeat for the people, and every ceasefire is a
temporary postponement of a new cycle of tyranny.

The State, a Big Lie: When Protection Becomes
Colonialism

 
The anarchist doesn't ask: who governs? He asks: why are
the people governed? In Sudan, as in all former colonies,
the state was never the product of a free contract, but rather
a colonial extension with local tools. Thus, the army itself,
sometimes presented as a symbol of sovereignty, is nothing
more than an elitist reproduction of colonial violence, with
a different uniform color and a different logo. 

 The Rapid Support Forces (RSF), for their part, are a
cruder caricature, inflated in the laboratory of power to fill
temporary roles, then spiraling out of control, not because
they are different, but because they are an uncontrolled
version of the same original.

Anarchist Salute: Against Victory, To Get Out of the
Game

From an anarchist perspective, it is pointless to ask "who
wins?" » The most important question is: how to withdraw
from this game without dying? Liberation, here, does not
mean "regime change," but rather the demolition of the
control structure itself. Societies must return to managing
their own affairs from the bottom up, without tutelage,
armies, or leaders. Resistance committees, grassroots
solidarity initiatives, and the collaborative economy in the
face of collapse are not only tools of resistance, but the
core of another world. A world where life is not
monopolized and hope is not managed from military
offices.

Open Conclusion: War is not a catastrophe

The catastrophe awaits the tools of violence to save us
from violence. From an anarchist perspective, the path to
salvation lies not in victory, but in delegitimizing the entire
game.

Sudan Anarchist Gathering
June 23, 2025

 « The people » is not a reality. It is a
practical political myth, a functional
fable.

The idea of « the people » is not a fixed entity or a
homogeneous essence, but rather an imaginary construct that
emerges every time power, revolution, nation, or justice are
invoked. On the surface, it suggests simplicity: a unified
group with a will, a voice, and an interest. But underneath, it
is a complex of contradictions, a collection of dissonant
voices, a decentralized complex of forces, incapable of being
reduced to a single word.

« The people » is not a tree with a single root (origin, identity,
history), but a network of roots that grow horizontally,
connect, separate, return, and intertwine without a center,
without a beginning, without an end. There is no single point
at which it can be said, « Here the people begin » or « Here
the people speak. »
In political discourse, « the people » is used as a rhetorical
facade to conceal class struggle, inequality, and symbolic
violence. The diverse, conflicting, and marginalized « people
» are transformed into a single, illusory entity, serving
specific purposes:

The state speaks in the name of the people to justify
repression.
The opposition speaks in the name of the people to justify
revolution.

The right and the left dispute over “who is the real people”
But who really is the people? Is it the hungry on the margins?
Is it the bourgeoisie disguised as a popular group? Is it the
worker, the refugee, the prisoner, the student, the intellectual?
Or do all of these belong to overlapping classes and
movements that cannot be combined into a single container
without negating their characteristics and conflicts?
This analysis does not seek the « essence of the people, » but
rather asks: How is this concept created? Who formulates it?
Who uses it? Against whom? And for what purpose?
It is an analysis that rejects the focus on « national identity »
or « common interest, » focusing instead on deconstructing
the relationship between power, language, and the political
imagination.

The result? « The people » is not real. It is a practical political
myth, a myth with a function. Its function may be to unify,
mobilize, or justify. But, at its core, it is a discourse device
that produces power as much as it claims to represent the
powerless.

N.C. (Tunisia)

 Statement by the Anarchist Front of Iran
and Afghanistan condemning the war-
mongering governments

We, the Anarchist Front of Iran and Afghanistan, once
again reaffirm our unwavering and principled stance:
Every war-at any scale and under any pretext-that is
initiated or prolonged by states is to be unequivocally
condemned.

States, regardless of their form or appearance, utilize war
as an instrument for survival and control. And in this
process, it is the lives, dignity, and futures of ordinary
people that are trampled underfoot.
At a time when the world is once more engulfed by
violence, bombings, death, displacement, and insecurity,
we insist on this enduring truth: the true victims of war are
always the people-not the states, not ideologies, not
borders.

Our struggle, as ever, is not for the redistribution of power
among elites, but against the very institution of the state
and all forms of organized domination.

We stand in solidarity-with care and resolve-alongside the
people of Iran, Afghanistan, and the broader region.
What we are witnessing today is, on one hand, the blatant
crimes of the Israeli regime, which targets civilians in Gaza
and elsewhere with savage brutality. On the other hand, we
see the Islamic Republic of Iran manipulating public fear,
playing geopolitical games at the cost of Iranian lives, and
forcing the burden of war upon society.

We see the Islamic Republic not merely as a regional
warmonger, but as part of a global chain of domination and
repression-a regime that for decades has assaulted the
Iranian people with censorship, poverty, imprisonment,
torture, and execution, and recklessly endangers millions
through its military provocations.

While we condemn the atrocities of the sionist regime in
the strongest terms, we also declare that the struggle
against the Islamic Republic is part of our broader fight
against all states and structures of domination-a struggle
that will persist.

We fight for a world without borders without states,
without armies or authoritarianism-a world in which
humanity, life and freedom are placed at the center. Our
primary war has always been the war against political
authoritarianism, totalitarianism and the state itself.
Anarchist Front of Iran and Afghanistan (13th of June)
Original in farsi : https://anarchis8ront.noblogs.org
 :תרגום לעבריתhttps://cnt-ait.info/2025/06/16/statement-
iran-he

The Situation Inside Sudan (Anarchist Group in Sudan, 3d of November, 2025)

 

 Statement translated into English by CNT-AIT.

Our revolutionary comrades around the world — you have been following what happened in Al-Fashir and following developments on the platforms of groups interested in the revolution in Sudan — but we would like to share the following with you.

First, and after remembering our comrades who fought in Al-Fashir and Khartoum and raised the banner of the group: while we categorically reject the principle of bearing arms — because we understand that arming one of the warring components serves only imperialism and its interests in this war — our comrades who died had no option but to take up arms to defend themselves and their families. They did not belong to any military faction before the war, and when Al-Fashir was besieged and the Janjaweed attacked it, they had no choice but to defend themselves. They fought alongside the Popular Forces for Self-Defense, which continued to fight in the city even after the command of the 6th Division of the army (Sudanese Armed Forces, SAF; القوات المسلحة السودانية) withdrew.

Contact with our comrades was cut off on 9 September 2025, but we learned from their families after they fled to the long displacement camps that they were martyred defending themselves. They defended their right to life, freedom, and dignity. The least we can do for these comrades is to care for their families, with whom the group remains in contact. They sleep on the ground, scorched by the sun by day and battered by bitter cold at night; they suffer from severe malnutrition and poor medical care. We are doing everything in our power to reach out to their families and support them in honor of the fallen.

Comrade « Kahraba » used to say he hates the Kalashnikov, but he hates even more to have his freedom captured and his dignity humiliated. We should make clear that after our communications with the comrades were cut off, they were killed at different times, but we were unable to know because of the suffocating siege and communications blackout. We fear Janjaweed reprisals against their families who still remain in Janjaweed-controlled areas. We will limit ourselves to their names, which will be engraved in our hearts and in the history of the liberation movement.

We want to reassure you that our remaining comrades in the group are in areas far from armed clashes, but there are still comrades in Sudan who have not yet left and who carry the group’s voice to the world. There is no safe place in Sudan, where the country stands on the brink of a civil war like the one that happened in Rwanda. The State and the Janjaweed have begun mobilizing thousands for the coming confrontation. If the war does not stop, it will be a humanitarian catastrophe in which we expect millions of innocent people to die.

O comrades of the paths of liberation, O revolutionaries of the world — direct struggle against power carries a steep price: our lives and our freedoms. Your comrades in Sudan chose not to remain silent — that is the nature of revolutionaries. We want peace and call for peace and the rejection of war, yet the most horrific expressions of racist authority in Sudan, imperial domination, and international rivalry are manifesting themselves. One of our comrades’ well-known sayings is that « the weapon is the idea, and the idea is a weapon »: either you aim your idea at your executioner, or you die carrying it within yourself. Thus we live free or die as revolutionaries. Therefore we ask you to expand support campaigns worldwide: our comrades have a right upon us — their defense of Al-Fashir is a defense of all revolutionaries. After the fall of Al-Fashir in Sudan, the country faces either division into two military dictatorships or civil war and rivers of blood.

Donate to support your comrades in Sudan.

Glory and eternity to our free revolutionaries.

Secretary-General of the Group,

Fawaz Murtada

(English version : Anarchist Group in Sudan)

---

If you would like to support the companions of the Sudanese Anarchist Gathring:

• Find out about the situation in Sudan (folowing us, or via Sudfa, Sounds of Soudan, for example), talk about the situation in Sudan to your friends, family, colleagues, etc. Everybody should know what is happening in Sudan !

• Distribute the Al Amal (Hope) newsletter, available online here: https://cnt-ait.info/2025/10/25/alamal-5
• Contribute to the solidarity fundraising campaign via Paypal https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/cntait1 (please select « Send money to an individual » to reduce bank fees. Please send an email to contact@cnt-ait.info to inform us of your donation and so we can keep you informed of its use.) or by bank transfer (contact us for information)

Mr Block the original song

 

I've had the old Mister Block song on my mind for awhile now.

 Personally, this version by the Synthicalists is my favourite.

Song: Mister Block
Lyrics: Joe Hill

Music: To the tune of, "It Looks to Me Like a Big Time Tonight"
Year: 1913
Genre:
Country: USA

Please give me your attention, I'll introduce to you
A man that is a credit to "Our Red, White and Blue";
His head is made of lumber, and solid as a rock;
He is a common worker and his name is Mr. Block.
And Block he thinks he may
Be President some day.

(CHORUS:)
Oh, Mr. Block, you were born by mistake,
You take the cake,
You make me ache.
Tie on a rock to your block and then jump in the lake,
Kindly do that for Liberty's sake.

Yes, Mr. Block is lucky; he found a job, by gee!
The sharks got seven dollars, for job and fare and fee.
They shipped him to a desert and dumped him with his truck,
But when he tried to find his job, he sure was out of luck.
He shouted, "That's too raw, I'll fix them with the law."
This song was originally posted on protestsonglyrics.net
(CHORUS)

Block hiked back to the city, but wasn't doing well.
He said, I'll join the union, the great A. F. of L."
He got a job next morning, got fired in the night,
He said, "I'll see Sam Gompers and he'll fix that foreman right."
Sam Gompers said, "You see,
You've got our sympathy."

(CHORUS)

Election day he shouted, "A Socialist for Mayor!"
The "comrade" got elected, he happy was for fair,
But after the election he got an awful shock.
A great big socialistic Bull did rap him on the block.
And Comrade Block did sob,
"I helped him to his job."
This song was originally posted on protestsonglyrics.net
(CHORUS)

Poor Block, he died one evening, I'm very glad to state;
He climbed the golden ladder up to the pearly gate.
He said, "Oh, Mr. Peter, one word I'd like to tell,
I'd like to meet the Astorbilts and John D. Rockefell."
Old Pete said, "Is that so?
You'll meet them down below."

(CHORUS)

Before reaching the Stars By Wat Wanlyangkun

 

Before reaching the Stars

By Wat Wanlyangkun

Mother walked slowly away from the abbot’s residence, past the sandy courtyard and the shade of the pikun tree, towards the rear of the central shrine, One hand carefully supported a water-bowl, while the other held a rattan basket used for carrying the things needed for merit-making. A horned owl moaned softly from a dark corner of the shrine’s eaves. The sweet scent of frangipani blossoms drifted towards he with the breeze and the gentle waving of the flowering grass. Mother sank wearily down in front of the mortuary containing her dead son’s body¹. With its oblong shape it looked like a coffin, except that it was made of cement-- and the smell of fresh cement still lingered in the air. There were other, identical mortuaries stretched out in a long row. The empty ones looked like dark caverns. And adjacent to the mortuaries little memorial stupas ringed the central shrine, whose dingy white walls were crumbling away in places from sheer age.

Mother carefully laid down a tray, on which she’d placed white porcelain cups filled with rice, kaeng som phak krajiap, fried salted fish, chiffon- and sticky layer-cakes². The smell of the kaeng som wafting into her nostrils reminded her of him so much that the tears welled up in her eyes. Roy had loved it ever since he was a little boy, especially with fried salted fish, and he’d eat up rice like no one else. The soft, fluffy, pink chiffon-cake looked so tempting to the touch, while the sticky layer-cakes had the red of blood. So Roy used to tell her. Sobs formed a choking lump in her throat. She had never dreamed that her son’s life would come to a bloody end as two bullets pierced his tender flesh. Roy must have suffered, but her suffering was still worse. A pain not visible to the eye, but experienced in the heart, in the feeling, above all in the feeling of a mother. She didn’t understand how some people could be so cruel as to devour the flesh and blood of their fellow men… Softly Mother muttered his name… “Child, come and eat your food…”³ Then she pushed forward the engraved water-bowl, which still had a few grains of well-cooked rice stuck to it here and there, dipped her forefinger into the water, murmured prayers⁴. And, as she slowly closed her eyes, clear drops trickled from the corners down the wrinkles on her cheeks.

Before she’d rowed the boat away from the temple-jetty, the abbot had been kind enough to come and talk to her, and speak to her about her son. The words that still rang in her ears were: “Roy was a good boy, dear lady, well-behaved, quiet, and serious. Who could have had the heart to do him harm?… These days people have become so cruel…”

Mother had heard praise of this kind ever since Roy was a little boy. And when she heard it repeated now, she couldn’t help feeling proud and happy. When Roy had grown up to be a young man and had gone off to study in Bangkok, he remained her own adorable son, unchanged. When she said that students didn’t have to wear their hair long, he cut his short. It got to the point that she felt hesitant to scold him. If she wanted to give him some advice, she had to think it over very carefully before she brought it up: so much so that Ro, her youngest boy, used to tease her by saying that she had a saint for a son.

There was only one thing she couldn’t stop him doing-- when he broke the news to her that he probably wouldn’t be able to finish college in four years because he had to devote part of his time to “activities”. Mother later came to understand that these “activities” meant politics.

“Politics aren’t what I’m really after. I’m using my time to study and learn about the problems of the poor, who are so much poorer than we, who don’t eat three meals a day, and who have to do heavy work as manual laborers, hiring themselves out for low wages. When they demand fair pay, and appeal for help, how could you have me stand idly by, Mother? Or when the peasants demand justice, sometimes to the point of having to make demonstrations, I can’t possibly rest comfortably through it all. I’m concerned about our poor, not about politics. But politics concerns itself with me. So we can’t escape it…”

But no matter what reasons he gave, Mother loved him too devotedly to accept them. The very word “demonstration” pierced her to the quick. She couldn’t bear to look at the photos of the young men and women gunned down on the streets during October 1973⁵. Worse than that, her thoughts would fly ahead in so many directions: if there was a mass demonstration, and someone threw even a single bomb, rows of people would be killed or wounded. She urged him to hurry up and finish his studies, hurry and get a job and settled down like his older brothers and sisters, so she could stop worrying about him… Roy couldn’t explain and get his mother to accept his reasons; so he’d just keep silent, listening quietly to her advice. But as the days passed, she had to recognize with a sigh that he was not following that advice. After that, Roy gradually drew away from his mother. Only once in a long while would he come back to visit his riverside home, even though it was really not that far from Bangkok. The one thing that deeply pleased his mother, though, wast Roy finally graduated, even though he took longer than usual to complete his studies.

She’d written to congratulate him. Yet in the letter she’d used the words “obstinate child”. For, no matter what, she remained just as concerned as ever, and urged him to hurry up and find a job.

“It won’t be many years now before Ro finishes high-school, and we’d like him to continue his schooling in Bangkok. If you can get a job with a salary befitting your education, it’ll mean you’ll have got settled, and won’t have to go on being a burden to your uncle. Your little brother can depend on you from then on, and I won’t have to worry any more. Now that you’ve graduated, you won’t get involved with those demonstrations any more, will you? It was all well and good while you were still a student. I’m sure someone like you, Roy, won’t take more than a few years to get settled. It’ll be much better if you set your mind to establishing yourself first. I’ve never been disappointed in your elder brothers and sisters. They’ve all done well, every one of them. Just two weeks ago, in fact, your elder brother Rong bought me a radio-tape recorder set, boasting that he got it in Japan. I think his company must have sent him there-- his boss must like him a lot. I feel very happy for him. And it looks like your little brother’s crazy about this present. Ro listens to it day and night, and pays no attention to his books, so I’ve had to put my foot down”.

Mother tied the boat to the bridge and scooped up some water to rub her face clean of the dirt and dust of her grief. The samun-tree by the water’s edge was beginning to change its leaves to welcome the cool season. Little Ro, wearing nothing but a pair of khaki shorts, was lying prone on the floorboards reading a newspaper. By his side lay the brand new radio-tape recorder set, playing a song.

“Any news today?” Mother asked, picking up the betel-tray from inside the rattan offering-basket.

“They say Elder Brother’s case is still a mystery. They have to interview the people close to the case, but so far they haven’t been able to track them down. And the bullets taken from his body aren’t any use in solving the riddle. Another paper makes it out to be an affair with some woman. It also says he was an extremist and a troublemaker. So I didn’t buy that one. I was afraid you’d be upset”.

She was struck dumb. She sighed and shook her head without a word.

A moment later she told her youngest son to get the cassette, murmuring very softly “I’d like to hear it one more time. I miss him so much”.

She still remembered very well that after she’d sent the letter congratulating Roy on his graduation and urging him to hurry up and settle down, she’d heard nothing more from him. He seemed to have vanished as silently as a needle dropped into the sea, until one day he sent her two cassette tapes through the mail. The one with a dove on the outside was simply filled with songs; the other contained a recorded message for her from Roy.

“Dear respected Mother, I received your letter a long time ago. The reason I’ve been so long in answering isn’t because I don’t care about the family, but because I’ve been very busy with my work. Then, when I heard that Elder Brother Rong had bought you a radio-tape recorder, I waited till I had enough money to spare to buy a cassette. The other tape has songs on it that I want Ro to hear….

“I understand your love and concern, and I’ve been turning over in my mind for a long time how I could best express myself to you, so that we can really understand each other. Right now, I’m a reporter for a little newspaper. The salary isn’t very high, but I’m satisfied, because the paper takes its stand on the truth. It speaks for the poor and attacks those who take advantage of the great majority and sell out the country and the people. The truth is, I’ve been at this job since before I graduated. I didn’t dare tell you then. I was afraid you’d be upset. I hope you aren’t angry with me, Mother! If I’d waited till graduation to join the movement for justice, I’d have proved to be the kind who thinks first of himself-- and it would have been too late. So I joined in before I finished school. It was a golden opportunity for someone who believes danger for sure, especially for investigative reporters. I’ve seen poor, pitiful peasants murdered, one after the other, like fallen leaves. I’ve seen women workers bravely resisting the clique of savages. Sometimes they’ve been cruelly mowed down. If you’d met them, if you’d seen them, if you’d understood them, you wouldn’t be able to stand it either, Mother….

“Your love for your child may be so great that it prevents you from seeing things as they truly are. You’re afraid that your child will get hurt, get wounded by a fragment of an incendiary bomb, or be gunned down. I feel a deep warmth in my heart whenever I think of your loving concern. Yet I’d like to pass on to you something a friend of mine who works here with me once said. He said that death is a common thing and comes to everyone without fail. But before we die, we have three choices as to how to spend our lives. The first is just to drift along worthlessly, seeking only our own safety, and in the end dying in oblivion. The second way is to seek meaning in life, struggling against the oppression of the many by the few, working with a heart brimful of good intentions for our fellow-men, not as a sacrifice but as a duty. The last way is to live by seizing everything in sight for ourselves, to live without conscience, wallowing in selfish pleasures over the blood and tears of others, before dying to the sound of curses. Mother, which road would you want your son to take?….

“So it’s no wonder that sometimes we have to risk danger. Right now I’m investigating a case of some Thais who are conniving with the Americans to swindle our people out of a huge quantity of the nation’s priceless resources, destroying what ought to be for the people’s benefit. The accomplices of the farang are all bigshots with a lot of political and bureaucratic influence. The profits they’re making in this case are so enormous that we guess that any attempt to expose them will certainly be blocked. A modest step would be to shut down the markets to prevent the public reading the newspapers. The decisive step, though, could be shedding blood. Right now. We’re getting death threats on the telephone. But I won’t choose money or bullets, because I have my own right choice already. If such persecution develops, Mother, don’t be frightened; be proud that your son hasn’t lived in vain….

“Please tell Ro that the songs I’ve sent are songs with real substance and value, because they tell about the vast numbers of people who live in darkness and utter despair. I’m sure Ro will like the first song. The words are a kind of vow by someone who is ready to sacrifice even his life to help win peace and happiness for the mass of his fellowmen…

We ask to be corpses turn by turn,

piled on top of one another like a staircase,

high enough to reach the sky,

bringing the stars down to the earth.

If we make this world beautiful, and make the people in it happy and equal,

this world will be a star…

“Mother, in your life you’ve found some happiness. You’ve had enough over to give food to the monks every morning, while so many others have nothing, not even something to eat. They drown in the swelling flood of their debts. If you were ever really to experience all these things, I know that someone with your sense of justice wouldn’t be able to stand for it, and you’d see the need to join the struggle.

“I tried to communicate my thinking to the girl I used to love. I tried to get her to understand my work. But she left me. I’m sorry about it, of course, but it was unavoidable. We always went separate ways. She had no love to give to anyone else, not even to the pitiful and the starving. She saw only herself and me. She was trying to enter a framework from which I was escapiing. I’ve already lost one person that I loved. Don’t let me lose you too, Mother…”

The days passed smoothly by like the flow of water in a stream. Every evening, when her youngest son sprang up out of the outboard riverboat, she would poke out her head and ask right away whether there was any word of Roy. From this daily routine, she came to experience the sale of lies on the pages of newspapers. The more she insisted that Ro buy every newspaper that had any news of Roy, the more she was able to make comparisons, beginning with the investigating of Roy’s background. There were two papers which tried to show that Roy was a despicable character, with a deep inferiority complex. They also included an interview with a police officer to the effect that her son’s activities showed he was involved with the “ideology of the other side”. On the other hand, there was almost no interest in his unsolved murder-- to the point that the paper which had so often smeared Roy finally went so far as to say that his exposure of the giant mining swindle had sabotaged the national economy, made foreign countries afraid to invest their capital, increased unemployment, and led to chaos, following the blueprint of the “ideology of the other side”.

Mother put the ricebowl and the metal cooking-pot away in the rattan basket. She knelt respectfully before the abbot and then took her leave. She cast a glance at yesterday’s newspaper lying against the veranda of the abbot’s residence. The moment she could distinguish the color of the ink, she shuddered with disgust⁶. The abbot spoke up:

“Are you in a hurry to go and feed your boy”? She answered softly in the affirmative, and so he continued:

“When he was a boy your son seemed such a good lad. It’s only now I realize how mistaken I was. Who’d have thought that as he got older he’d turn into one of those extremists who are destroying the country. Too bad! Must have gone around with some fine friends, I suppose….” the abbot went on sarcastically. “That’s why these extremists don’t live long. Keep a close eye on little Ro; watch out or he’ll follow in his elder brother’s footsteps. Ah, the young people these days, they’re no good at all…” and he shook his head.

Mother’s face went burning red, her heart beat violently, and huge beads of sweat suddenly bathed her forehead. She quickly took her leave, unwilling to take any time to dip up water for the memorial libations. However, she didn’t want to blame the abbot either.

1Hollow cement structures for the storing of bodies prior to cremation. When “occupied,” their apertures are sealed with new cement.

2 Kaeng som phak krajiap a simple dish made of fish, okra, hot spices and tamarind. The sticky layer-cakes are made of flour, coconut cream, sugar, and coloring, usually constructed in alternate red and pink layers, and steamed before serving.

3It is a Thai custom to bring offerings to “feed” the deceased before cremation. Mother here is speaking to her dead son.

4She follows the traditional ritual for making offerings to the dead.

5A reference to the violent repression attempted against the mass demonstrations in Bangkok in early October 1973, which ultimately led to the fall of the Thanom-Praphat dictatorship on October 14^th.

6Thai dailies typically print their front pages with a particular brightly-colored ink, allowing easy identification from a distance.

The railway hamlet - Chatcharin Chaiwat

 

 

The Railway Hamlet by Chatcharin Chaiwat

The sky was an orange glare. The firewood, piled high as three men standing on top of one another, and stretched out in a long line, hid the living-quarters of the railway employees from sight, and let us see only one jagged half of the sun. when struck by its rays, the pile of rotting logs loomed like an ancient mountain. The children of the railway clerks and the other employees liked to run and play on it. Once in a while one heard that some railwayman’s baby boy had slipped and fallen off.

The sight of the orange April sun and the different colors of the children’s kites, swooping and darting through the grey smoke of the train hurtling in towards the station, was a delight to the eye. It meant that the railwayman’s wives would now be stepping out onto their porches and telling their older children to put away their kites and run to meet their fathers off the train. And the younger kids would be scrambling up onto the porches and peering out over the pile of firewood, watching their fathers waving from within the incoming coaches.

As the kites were put away and the sound of the train gradually died down, the children would run to take their fathers by the hand, put on their big railwaymen’s hats-which would flop loosely down, completely covering their eyes-hoot with laughter, pick up the fruit and toys, and race each other down the red-earth road.

“Peng” was the smallest of them all and rarely got the chance to do what all the others did. He’d been fatherless for a while now. Before that, he’d always raced us for his father to watch. His father had worked on the same train as mine. “Peng”, for all his tiny size, was a mischievous lad, every inch the son of his hard-drinking father.

He had two younger siblings, aged seven and three, and a mother whose hair was always a tangled mess. In those days we all smiled scornfully at “Peng”, because we knew he had no father any more. He’d stand there, picking the dried snot out of his nose, and watch us walk back from the train hand in hand with our fathers. Sometimes he’d run after us, cling to my father’s shirt and stare into his eyes for a long time. Sometimes he’d run to carry things for Father, and even have the nerve to call him “Daddy”.

That was why I got into a fight with “Peng” the day the railway put on a film-show down at the station. I was furious with him because he called my father “Daddy,” and Father in turn seemed so sorry for him. Sometimes, too, he’d make so bold as to carry the toys I should have been the one to get from Father and bring home. He could run faster than I and he’d always bring things to my mother before I could.

On the evening of the film-show at the station, we fought till I gave him a bloody nose. I called him names till a grown-up came to put a stop to it, and smacked me hard on the bottom. Everyone said how sorry they felt for him… “Damn him!” I’d say to myself, “I love my father too. He’s got no right to take him away from me”.

Everyone knew that the father of “Peng” was my father’s subordinate. His job was coupling the coaches to the locomotives.

He was also a ticket-collector and porter- what they call a ham lo¹.

We children remembered that day very well. The orange sky of the past few days had deepened into red. The train had come to a halt more quietly than usual, so quietly that even the children sensed something queer was up. There was an indescribable languor in the air. The kids were very tired that day, and were slow to run off to the station. “Peng” ran ahead of all the others, for today his father was coming home.

Not long after I’d brought Father’s things back to the house, to give him a bit of a rest, I realized something unusual had happened. All the people in the railwaymen’s quarters were clustered together, sitting and talking to one another, and staring at little “Peng”, who stood there picking his nose. Some muttered “How pitiful! His kids are still so young…” “Peng” came back to play with us as usual, but he seemed very quiet. Now, long afterwards, the word spread through the railway hamlet that as his father was coupling the coaches he’d been struck and dragged along the tracks through two stations, without anyone in the train noticing. I stood there staring at the corpse and “Peng”. It looked like meat chopped into jagged pieces. Most likely “Peng” couldn’t recognize his father either, for he didn’t cry, just stood there silent and impassive. My friends and I yelled at him that he was an ungrateful son for not crying when his father died.

The little kid had never been one to give in. Even though I was bigger than he, and taller by several spans, he fought me till my lips were split.

On the day of the funeral the whole railway hamlet seemed in a stupor. The children were all so scared that none of them dared to go out to take a bath that night. They were terrified that the ghost of the dead father would come to spook them. As soon as the drum began to thud, the sound of chanting monks could be heard throughout the hamlet. The children sat huddled in a group, all with their legs drawn up to their chests². It was even scarier at my house, for Father and Mother had gone to help with the funeral ceremonies. We kids wouldn’t let ourselves be separated from one another for a moment. We drew our legs up till our knees were stiff and sore. And when darkness fell, not a single streetlamp gleamed. All the roads had turned pitch-black. The sweet, sad music of the pi and so³ made several of us start crying in spite of ourselves. Not long afterwards there was a tap at the door, and the sound of a childish voice:

“Please open up! Mother’s sent me over with some curry”. Everyone immediately recognized the voice as that of “Peng”, but no one dared to open the door. Only one was brave enough to stretch out his hand and slide back the bolt. “Peng” poked his nose in the doorway, a mirthless smile on his lips. It made me see his father’s face in his.

“Put the curry down, and get out! Who knows, maybe your father’ll come after you to spook us!” I shouted at him. “Peng” smiled and left at once, with a firm step.

Not long afterwards my father moved to another province, and I came to grow up on Bangkok, climbing steadily through the school system. At the time we moved, “Peng” had become a young pushcart-vendor, selling water from door to door, at 5 baht a cartful. His mother sole khao yam⁴ at the railway station.

When I was full grown, with a deeper voice and a higher education, I went back to inspect the piece of land that Father had bought in the hamlet. Some of the older railway people I’d known were still around, though they’d aged. Some who where still young girls when I’d lived there, and attractive enough to have young men hanging round them all the time, now sold fried bananas or sticky rice along the footpath beside the railroad tracks. When I went back to visit them, some of the railway old-timers would greet me saying:

“Hey! When did you get back? You’re Old So-and-so’s boy, aren’t you? You’ve sure turned into a real Bangkok kid!”

I felt even more proud that my clothes were quite different from those of the other young men in the hamlet, and my accent, had completely changed from what it used to be. When I spoke, in fact, many of them had to cock their heads to catch what is was saying. They couldn’t stop expressing their admiration-- though actually it was nothing special. I looked different from them only because I’d had a chance to live in Bangkok for a while and had had a better education. Father had made some money by doing business from province to province, so my status immediately seemed far removed from theirs.

I walked farther and farther out along the road. Some women who’d been my playmates in the old days followed me on their bicycles in a straggly line. The stamp of a Bangkok kid must have been displayed conspicuously on my chest. The dust-choked red-earth road was exactly the same as it had always been. It was still a road I ought to tread on proudly: I’d had more opportunities than it, and that made me its “better”.

Soon afterwards I ran into my old friend “Peng”. There was no dried snot in his nose like there used to be. But he was still undersized, just as in the old days. His wife was very pretty, and they’d had two children. “Peng” now worked as a station employee, through the patronage of the new station-master for whom he’d worked as a houseboy earlier on. His hair was now smoothly combed. The minute I reached his house, “Peng” clutched my hand tightly, and held it for a long time without uttering a word. His manner was very deferential, not at all the way it had once been. When I settled into a chair, he lowered himself to sit down on the floor, even though it was his own house. “Tell me how long you’re staying, so I can make something for you to eat on the way back.” “Peng” spoke with a strong rural accent, and smiled so broadly that I could see all his black cigarette-stained teeth.

The truth is I felt pretty uncomfortable, for in the old days we had been equals. Our fathers had had almost the same rank at work. Even though his father had been no worse than mine. He’d often treated me-- and fought with me-- without any inhibitions. Inwardly puzzling how and why two people, who came from the same place, whose way of life had been so similar, could become so unequal, I leaned back, chatting casually. There was something that made me want to dash over and embrace him as a dear old friend; yet something else held me back –I couldn’t say exactly what. I only remember thinking that his sitting lower down made it difficult for me to jump up and hug him to my heart’s content.

I was staying at a hotel in town and had become a sort of local glamor-boy. All kinds of people cycled up and down by my hotel. Old friends came crowding in to visit. And the rich kids, who used to ignore me, now came to take me out. So I didn’t get a chance to follow up the invitation from “Peng” to go have a drink at his house.

The last time I saw “Peng” he spoke to me just as respectfully and deferentially as before. “Won’t you come and have a drink at my house? Please do, I’ve got everything prepared. And I’ve wrapped up some nam phrik⁵ for you to eat on your journey back.” I had stopped in once at his house. But when I saw the food he’d prepared, I lost interest. He’d set out a big gurami with some liquor, kung yam⁶, stir-fried leafy vegetables—and plain water. So this time I excused myself rather feebly, and went off to drink with some other friends at a restaurant on the beach.

That day, as I was walking home late in the afternoon, my face felt strained and an indescribable sensation flashed through my body, for once again the sky was an orange glare, deep almost to the point of red. The long bank of firewood was a dull grey. I rubbed my eyes, thinking maybe it was drink that made my face feel tight. Inside, a sudden pang knifed through my heart. The atmosphere in the hamlet revealed the pattern right away. The people on the platform sat in huddles, deathly silent. I saw his 5-year-old kid standing there stark naked, holding a piece of bamboo and scraping it back and forth through clots of blood…

Fragments of flesh were still stuck to the railway tracks. The smell of the blood, smeared about like the tears on the cheeks of his wife, was nauseating. Stiffened feet, streaked with crusted blood, protruded from under the stretch of the drab-white covering-sheet…. Another station old-timer was dead. He’d caught his leg in the coupling, and had been struck and hurled aside by the train. The white sheet, bulging according to the shape of the body underneath, looked ghastly, as ghastly as the day when “Peng” poked his nose in and set the curry down in front of the door of my house. It was the station-master who bought coffin into which the corpse was slowly lowered. The sky grew dark, crumpled horribly. The sound of the train’s whistle moaned like someone in his death throes. Many people couldn’t hold back their tears.

Once again the drum thudded insistently, just as on the day when the father of “Peng” had died. But this time it was “Peng” himself who was lying in the coffin. The so played in short, sharp beats, as before. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. My chest felt burning hot and suffocatingly tight. The long, towering pile of firewood looked like the wall of hell. And the jagged rim of the sun, which had almost vanished into the pile, seemed to be pointing out something over and over, as though it were a satanic spirit with the power to trample down and crush little people….

I stared at the sun so long that I felt dazed. And when it disappeared behind the firewood pile, my vision blurred. Everything I looked at turned red and purple. Not until someone brought me a handkerchief to wipe the tears from my eyes did I realize that I was crying, crying hard. My old friend’s eldest boy was still running about playing with his kite, as before. But when he ran close to the stroller of the station-master’s baby, he stopped still, stood looking at it and then stretched out his hand to touch it. Whereupon he was roughly shoved to the ground by the stationmaster’s servant, who grabbed the chubby, cuddly baby by the hand and hurried it into the house.

Watching this scene, I felt I had no tears left to weep. The long railway tracks extended into our little hamlet in parallel lines which never met, even at the station’s end. The little station-worker was never given the opportunities we had. All he could do was wait and scramble for any chance that might come by. No one had ever given “Peng” and his children any security in life. I felt certain that what had happened to “Peng” would be forgotten before long. There’d still be people selling sticky rice on the station platform. There’d be a new young worker in his place—who might well be his own son. And so it would go, on and on, over and over. People would always say: “Don’t brood over such a trifle. It’s not worth it.”

My friends were urging me to leave, when some said exactly these words, insisting that I not get too involved. After all, he said, everyone dies some day. It must have been because the sun had just disappeared that I was confused enough to say out loud: “You know, he’s not really dead at all. Do you see his two little kids? Do you see his wife? Do you see their future? That’s just it, no one sees. Where will those two kids end up? It’s not over yet. I know for sure that it’s not over yet. It’ll happen again, over and over, because no one gives a damn about these little people”.

I remember bursting into the most racking sobs at that funeral.

1An all-purpose term for unskilled railway laborers.

2In many parts of Siam, it is believed that ghosts like to seize children by their feet.

3The pi is a kind of oboe, the so a kind of vio.

4Khao yam is a Southern Thai dish made of rice, vegetables, and a spicy sauce.

5Nam phrik is a condiment made of shrimp paste, lime-juice, hot pepper, and garlic.

6Kung yam is a dish made of prawns, lemon-juice, and hot pepper.