Khartoum, November 25th, 2021
Dear Maysaa & Aya of the Future,
Today marks exactly one month since our world was shaken again, since hope seemed to dim under the shadow of yet another coup. The echoes of our chants for “الحرية ، السلام ، والعدالة” (“freedom, peace, and justice”) still reverberate through emptied streets and restless hearts. The revolution to which we gave our youth, our passion, and our dreams now feels paused, though we refuse to call it lost.
We write to you now, in a complete, government-imposed internet and communications shutdown, caught between both frustration and resilience. The past few years have taught us that change comes with immense sacrifice, but this blow feels particularly heavy, personal. We have dreamt of a democratic Sudan, worked tirelessly to envision and realize a future free from oppression, and instead filled with opportunities. And yet here we are again, our dreams clouded by uncertainty, our voices muffled, but never silenced.
Despite all the unknowns and sadness, we still find ourselves feeling strangely hopeful and even excited about the journey we're about to undertake. We've always dreamt big, and now the path forward is clearer than ever, even though it's a road that will take us far from all that is familiar.
We are eager to immerse ourselves in new environments, to gather the knowledge, skills, and networks needed to amplify our voices for Sudan. Even now, amid turmoil, the thought of studying abroad fills us with a sense of purpose and determination. There's a quiet excitement in our hearts as we prepare to leave, knowing our academic journey will be about much more than personal achievement - we will carry our people's stories, dreams, and struggles into new places and spaces they've never reached before.
We are holding onto hope fiercely. We believe that education will be our catalyst, our quiet but powerful act of resistance. By seeking academic excellence, we hope you have carried our stories forward, turning personal and collective trauma into meaningful advocacy and impactful work.
Did you find ways to bridge the worlds you inhabit? Between two minds, two hearts, and two almost homes. Were you able to bring the plight and beauty of Sudan to those unfamiliar spaces? Did our sacrifices and aspirations yield something meaningful in your journey?
We hope that by the time you read this, you've made strides that we can hardly imagine today. Remember this moment, remember our resolve, and carry forward the responsibility of representing the voices of those who have only known the vocabulary of violence.
From the east with our dreams and aspirations,
Maysaa & Aya
Boston & Edinburgh, March 13th, 2025
Dear Maysaa & Aya of the Past,
We sit here now, thinking of the roads we've traveled, defined by resilience, dreams, and an unending connection to our land and home. It's been over three years since your letter reached us, with its gentle hopes, hesitant dreams, and that courageous determination to go abroad, learn, and return to Sudan to نبنيهو (rebuild). We read your words again today, sitting thousands of miles from the streets we once marched through, sang on, and hoped about. You left us with great expectations, with your hearts fresh from the wounds of October’s coup, still trying to make sense of dreams stolen overnight.
We made it to the other side, and yet, the journey feels incomplete. You imagined arriving abroad as a powerful step forward, a clear path toward returning home stronger, ready to rebuild. Yet here we are, in places far away, grappling daily with layers of identity we never anticipated and are rarely understood by those around us.
In places of privilege, we hold Sudan close yet feel painfully distant from its pulse and its dust, from the neighborhoods we walked tirelessly, the streets we chanted in, the homes we cherished but were forced to leave.
We reflect on our journey after we first arrived, sharing laughter and tears through blurry video calls, comforting each other through the loneliness of being away from the only homes we’ve ever known. Those evenings we spent working tirelessly on our laptops, driven by memories of the streets and faces we grew up with, determined to amplify voices silenced by injustice back home. Those moments shaped us and continue to shape us, anchoring our identities to the very ground we once walked together.
Life abroad has come with its complexities, always caught between gratitude and guilt. Being away helped to clarify our purpose, but it also came with a heavy weight of survivor's guilt, a constant ache of the questions that haunt us: Did we abandon our country in its darkest hour? Should we have stayed and fought differently? Does our distance erase our belonging?
Our identity, rooted deeply in the Sudanese soil, sometimes feels fragmented here. Yet, we've discovered clarity in embracing our heritage, allowing our connection to the land to guide our activism and academic pursuits.
Even within this complexity, your dreams persist in us, clearer now more than ever. Every day spent here, we've made our studies a tribute to home, an attempt to honor the land we were pulled away from. Each word we speak, each paper we write, and every project we undertake is our resistance against erasure. Here, we've grown into storytellers, advocates, and researchers, intent on illuminating the struggles that distance often conceals and disguises. We have learned to fight differently through knowledge and relentless testimony.
And though we remain physically distant, our spirits dwell in the streets of Khartoum, in the vibrant markets of Omdurman, in the hills of Darfur, in our homes, our families, and our friends who still courageously resist. We know now that home is not a place we leave behind; it is a constant call within us, guiding every choice we make.
We promise you, past selves, that your dreams and aspirations live vividly within us. The uncertainty you felt then became seeds we carried westward, planted carefully in foreign soils, growing into acts of tangible change. The world may see us here, but every heartbeat and every breath we take echoes with the rhythms of home.
From the west thinking of you,
Maysaa & Aya