Rwsf Drones Plunge Sudan into Darkness and Thirst

RSF Drones Plunge Sudan into Darkness and Thirst

Monday, 2 November. In eastern Sudan, drones destroyed two electrical installations in Kassala State. The result: blackouts across the region. Another facility was hit at Merowe, beside the dam of the same name, the country's largest hydroelectric plant. Let us be clear. This is not a war accident. It is a strategy.

Think about what that means in practice. An operating theatre goes dark in the middle of a surgery. A newborn sits in an incubator that no longer works. A water pump stops, and families walk for kilometres under a merciless sun to find water. For eight days, more than fifteen electrical installations have been targeted, mainly in eastern Sudan, in the states of Gedaref, Khartoum, Al-Jazira, Sennar and Kassala. All of them are under the control of the Sudanese army. And meanwhile, the world counts the dead from the bombardments and forgets the lights going out.

We Africans know what it means for a nation to be deprived of electricity. We have lived it in our capitals, our villages, our makeshift hospitals. But a blackout caused by mismanagement is a national disgrace. A blackout caused by armed drones is a war crime.

The facts are there, and they are damning. Since the start of the war between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) in April 2023, civilian infrastructure has become a target. Bridges, factories, water stations, power grids: everything is being hit. Sudanese civil society, which has never had the luxury of silence, denounces these attacks for what they are. It is right. A drone that strikes an electrical transformer does not choose between a hospital and a barracks. It strikes life itself.

Who holds the controls? The military authorities in Khartoum attribute these strikes to the RSF, led by General Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti. UN investigations and several human rights organisations have documented the growing use of drones by the RSF, as well as supply chains that cross borders. Reports accuse the United Arab Emirates of supplying weapons to the RSF, which Abu Dhabi denies. The truth is hard to establish in a war where each side has its backers. But one thing is not up for debate: someone owns these drones, someone sends them, and civilians pay the price.

We must also look at the timing. These strikes come just as the winter growing season begins, the period when fields need water to feed millions of people. In Sudan, where UN agencies have already confirmed famine in several areas of Darfur and Kordofan, cutting water to crops means scheduling hunger for next year. No one can say they were not warned. Humanitarian workers have been repeating it for months: every week of war kills the harvest, and every lost harvest kills the children of the following year.

Ask yourself a simple question: what remains of a nation when you strip it of its hospitals, its water, its fields and its light? What remains are millions of displaced people, more than twelve million according to UN figures, crowded into camps or on the roads of exile. What remains is a generation of children who will never know school. What remains is a country being emptied of its future, piece by piece, in silence.

What is happening in Sudan is not an isolated case. Africa has seen this film before: in South Sudan, in Libya, in the Sahel, outside powers and warlords fight over resources, roads and ports while ordinary people pay the bill. Regional rivalries, commercial interests and arms deliveries turn our conflicts into playgrounds for actors who will never live with the consequences. Let us say it to the elites in our capitals and to the foreign patrons alike: the sovereignty of a state is not for sale, and the life of a civilian is not up for negotiation.

So what is to be done? First, enforce the law we already have. Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions prohibits attacks on objects indispensable to the survival of the civilian population, including drinking water installations, irrigation works and dams. This is not a diplomatic suggestion. It is an obligation. The United Nations Security Council must demand an immediate end to attacks on civilian infrastructure, with an independent verification mechanism and targeted sanctions against the commanders and financiers who fuel the drones. An arms embargo only means something if it is enforced, and right now it is not.

Second, the African Union must stop settling for communiqués. The AU suspended Sudan after the coup of October 2021. Now it should use that leverage, together with ECOWAS and IGAD, to impose a verifiable ceasefire and a permanent humanitarian corridor for electricity, water and medicine. A continent that calls itself united must prove it when one of its peoples is drowning in darkness.

And we must look at what works. Botswana, which built its prosperity on strong institutions, an independent judiciary and disciplined management of its resources, shows that a state can stand tall when it respects its citizens. Mauritius transformed its economy through the rule of law and economic freedom. Senegal, in 2024, showed that a peaceful transfer of power through the ballot box is possible, even under pressure. These countries are not perfect. But they demonstrate a truth that warlords refuse to accept: a nation's strength comes from its institutions, not its drones. A well-managed power grid, markets open to honest investors, and a justice system that protects the weakest are worth a thousand times more than a military victory.

So here is what we demand. We demand that the Security Council name those responsible for strikes on civilian infrastructure and sanction those who supply the means to strike. We demand that the African Union impose real mediation, with guarantees for civilians, and not a diplomatic family photo. We demand that governments that finance, sell or deliver weapons to either party be held accountable, because every drone sold carries a signature. We demand that private companies, African and foreign alike, stop doing business with the networks that feed these wars.

And you, reader, do not let this information slide past on your screen. Share it. Ask your MPs and ministers what their country is doing to protect Sudanese civilians. Support the organisations that, on the ground, repair the networks, deliver water and treat the wounded. Silence is a choice, and it carries a price that others are paying in your place.

The lights of Sudan must not stay off. They depend on us.

Based on reporting by ACSS-EMAIL