Before the war in Sudan, Awad Meshawy traveled across the country as a filmmaker, cultural researcher, musician, and community organizer. Through his initiative, he and a small team of artists brought live music to hospitals, care facilities, and marginalized communities. Guided by the belief that art is first and foremost a humanitarian message, their work transformed public spaces into places of connection and healing.

Today, Awad lives in Uganda after being displaced by the war in Sudan. Yet his commitment to art and community remains unchanged. From organizing cultural activities and music sessions to supporting refugee communities through creative expression, he continues to use art as a tool for healing, remembrance, and hope.

In this interview with us, Awad reflects on his journey as an artist, filmmaker, cultural worker, and refugee, sharing powerful insights on identity, resilience, and the role of art in preserving humanity during times of conflict.

"We are a people of diverse cultures and ethnicities, and we consider our homeland a microcosm of Africa, so we feel that all of Africa is our home."

Interview conducted by Okunafrica
Location: Uganda
Date: June 2026

Editor's Note: This interview was conducted in Arabic and translated into English. Every effort has been made to preserve Awad Meshawy's original meaning and voice.

Can you tell us about yourself and your life before the war in Sudan?

My life wasn't simple like other people's; it was filled with events and horrors under a dictatorial regime that forced us not only to sing but also to struggle for the freedom of a homeland that had suffered the injustice of man against his fellow man. We inherited both the revolutionary spirit and art from a mother who was aware of her role in life as a mother and a singer with a melodious voice. She shone at school events and occasionally appeared on Sudanese national television as a rising star. However, she married at the age of 14, during middle school, ending a talent that never truly came to fruition. This great woman poured all her efforts into raising me and my siblings to be the people we are today, with a love for life and humanity, for no other reason than that we are human beings who must love one another and others, and that our lives should be dedicated to serving humanity. She used to tell us in Sudanese colloquial Arabic, "I gave birth to you for the people," meaning she gave birth to us not for herself but for all people. She instilled this meaning in us from a young age. It was because of these values that she was chosen as the ideal mother in our neighborhood, from among more than a thousand mothers in our neighborhood in Omdurman, the national capital. For Sudan...

That was the prelude to my beginnings. As for what I was doing before the war, I traveled throughout Sudan, from east to west and from north to south. I am a documentary filmmaker and a heritage researcher simultaneously. I also worked on short films for a number of international and local organizations, such as the UNHCR in eastern Sudan, UNICEF in South Blue Nile and Al Qadarif State through the Health Promotion Department of the Ministry of Health, the World Health Organization, environmental organizations, and the Dutch organization ZOA, on projects to empower small farmers through training and direct and indirect support to improve their agricultural production and productivity. I also had my own cultural center, which i managed (the Mishawi Cultural Center), in Omdurman, and later I moved it to Al Qadarif in eastern Sudan. On an artistic level, I was working on forming a national African band called (Kush). This band was a long-held dream of mine: to bring together most of the African musical cultures in a national African band that would include musicians, singers, and dancers performing on various musical instruments. Local and modern drumming, presented in a scientific and contemporary style, showcases African art professionally. The band's primary goal is to establish a shared African cultural foundation, aesthetically balanced and integrating peoples and fostering understanding among Africans. Pre-war Sudan offered an ideal environment for this concept due to its significant ethnic diversity, encompassing numerous Black and Arab tribes. Sudan, a land of migrations, provided ample ethnic resources for this endeavour.

During our conversation, Awad spoke about "Art as Compassion" a philosophy that has become central to both his artistic practice and humanitarian work. Curious about where this idea came from, we asked:

How did the idea of "Art as Compassion" begin?

The idea of "Art as a Tribulation" began in small singing sessions in cafes frequented by well-off people. We discussed many times how to give these sessions added human value, such as singing for people who genuinely needed it. Fate played a significant role in guiding us to those in need of psychological support, and "Compassion" became the name of this act, which added so much to us. The experience was inspiring and profound, filled with genuine love for groups burdened by suffering, poverty, and illness. This "compassion" extended to the homeless in the markets, juvenile delinquents in family and child protection departments, kidney and cancer patients in hospitals, prisoners, children with intellectual disabilities, and tea and coffee vendors in the markets and streets. All these places represent stressful environments that need an outlet for those pressures.

You described art as a humanitarian message. What is the personal meaning of this idea for you?

All art forms are expressions of the self. Humanity resides within us, transcending all differences between people. The expression of our inner beauty manifests in various art forms. Therefore, artists are often unique and progressive in their approach to humanitarian issues, demonstrating profound sensitivity and devising subtle, unconventional solutions. This is why, among the general public in our country, art is sometimes equated with madness-a metaphorical expression of the artist's unconventional approach. For example, when war broke out in Sudan, artists were among the first to reject it in every way possible. Many artists even emigrated, leaving the rest of society divided between supporters of one side or the other. Thus, an artist's commitment to and engagement with humanitarian issues is an essential artistic duty.

Why did you choose music specifically as a way to comfort people in difficult times?

I chose music for two main reasons:

It's what I have to offer people.

Music is closest to the collective consciousness of Sudanese society.

Your work with the tea sellers is very moving. What did you learn from these experiences about dignity and patience? And what about solidarity?

That's a very important question. We didn't choose the tea sellers randomly. The tea seller had to be someone who didn't have many customers and whose place was modest. We focused on elderly women. I remember the first experience like it was yesterday. There was an elderly woman with only one customer. That grandmother was pale and staring at almost nothing! Her eyes...She didn't move as if watching television. I stood a little ways off, taking in the place. It was hot, the sun was high in the sky, and the shade she was sitting in was short, barely covering her slender frame. We quickly decided to sit around her in circles, borrowing chairs from her neighbors since she didn't have enough, and the crowd was larger than her space could hold. We had announced the gathering on Facebook the day before, saying that after the procession, there would be a tea session with the tea lady at that spot, and the price of a cup of tea would be five times its usual price. This was during the revolutionary movement of the December Revolution. We asked her for drinks for everyone present, and then my friend, the very talented oud player, Al-Sadiq Ezz El-Din, and my friend, the percussionist Musab, and I started singing. The singing was like never before...

Then came the event I will never forget as long as I live. When I collected the money from the attendees and gave it to her, she opened her mouth but didn't say a word, but her tears spoke louder than any words could at that moment

What stood out to us the most was his humanitarian heart, deep longing for Sudan to recover from war and unrest, and his reflections on the impact these realities have had on Sudanese lives, his storytelling, the way he writes, his deep patriotism for Sudan, and the grace with which he speaks about neighbouring countries, almost as if he had been waiting to be heard. In reviewing his responses, a consistent thread of a strong belief in humanity, the value of art, and the importance of uplifting others for the collective good was evident. His perspective shows curiosity and attentiveness to the world around him, engaging with both people and broader questions of meaning with clear intent.

It is deeply moving to see how, even in the context of war and displacement, Sudanese people continue to uplift one another through culture, music, and shared resilience. There is a strong sense of solidarity within local communities.

Overall, his reflections point to a thoughtful and principled outlook, depth, awareness, and a sense of responsibility toward contributing positively to his environment.

Awad also shared with us his friend, Asim Al-Tayeb's Facebook page

https://www.facebook.com/share/1HRJ1cECxe/?mibextid=wwXIfr

Awad Meshawy can be reached via his Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/share/18iexqJ6vw/?mibextid=wwXIfr

Is Asim Al-Tayeb still in Sudan, or has the war also affected his artistic work?

Asim left Sudan with difficulty after a year of war, going to Kenya, then to Uganda. He visited us at the camp in Kryandungo, then went to the UAE, then to Saudi Arabia and Cairo. He later returned to Sudan because of his mother's illness. He is currently in the Blue Nile State, in the city of Al-Rusayris, undertaking a new project: transforming science curricula-chemistry, physics, and mathematics-into catchy songs that make memorizing equations easier through singing and music.

What were the reactions of the people and communities you visited?

Sudanese people throughout Sudan are known for their generosity and warm hospitality, especially when the guest is an artist. I was often humbled by the welcome I received. I recall one particularly remote visit to a region called Al-Kadalo, located in the farthest reaches of Blue Nile State, bordering Ethiopia. There were no roads leading there, only forests and valleys. A local guide led us. One of them remarked, "This is the first time we've ever had Sudanese people visit us!" It was a profound shock to discover that some communities in Sudan were unaware of who governs the country or what the currency is. This visit placed a significant burden and added responsibility on our shoulders: to produce documentaries that would introduce Sudanese people to one another, showcasing the lives of ordinary Sudanese.

How did the COVID-19 pandemic affect your artistic and humanitarian work?

It was one of the most painful periods of my life. I was among the first to contract the virus, and after me, all members of my family were infected. Thankfully, everyone recovered. On a professional level, a film I produced during that time about harvest festivals in the Ingessana region of southern Sudan was supposed to be released. With the ban on gatherings, many activities and events were suspended, and we entered a period of profound social isolation. Despite this, my brother, the musician Asim Al-Tayeb, and I continued to visit isolation centers, supporting the medical staff and patients in hospitals with music and singing.

How did the war in Sudan change your life as an artist and as a person?

The war in my country turned everything upside down. Artistic projects and sources of income ceased, and we left our country carrying nothing but a scarred memory of the countless victims and the loss of dear brothers and sisters, chosen by stray bullets and shells from all sides. I suffered greatly, but life didn't stop. I thank God that I adapt quickly to changing circumstances. And now I'm living through an exciting experience, despite its difficulties.

What was your psychological and emotional experience like after leaving Sudan and arriving in Uganda as a refugee?

Before the war, I had planned to come to Uganda to study English, but the war hastened my arrival. The journey wasn't easy; it took me a whole year to get here. The financial situation was extremely difficult, and I wasn't used to asking anyone for help, so I decided to face the experience with all its fears, relying on God and then on my own abilities. It was a true test of my character and willpower, and a great addition to the experience.

I thought that as a refugee, wherever I went, I would be under the umbrella of the United Nations and could dedicate myself to studying and acquiring new knowledge. However, I found a reality completely different from my preconceived notions. I quickly immersed myself in life and delved into my talents, working in carpentry and crafting handmade leather goods. This is a craft I learned from my father from a very young age, but I hadn't practiced it until now. I also established a cultural center in the camp and taught guitar and oud to the refugees there. However, after the violence that occurred a year ago in the camp, perpetrated by South Sudanese refugees against refugees from North Sudan, I was forced to leave. I rented a house outside the camp where I conduct cultural activities with a group of creative individuals. The cultural center is currently in the process of obtaining the necessary official permits to operate legally.

You mentioned that you miss your fellow artists and your homeland. What do you miss most?

What I miss most is my mother, my friend Sara, my music group, the sessions at the Cultural Center, and the good times with friends.

Do you still offer music or art activities within the Kiriandongo camp? If so, what does the activity look like today?

Artistic activity is a way of life for me. In the house where I live, I've dedicated a section to artistic activities. Every Tuesday and Saturday, there's a music and cultural session. We also hold regular seminars and discussion sessions to raise awareness among refugees. We address pressing issues such as health education, explaining Ugandan laws, the dangers of drugs, and so on, in addition to artistic discussions and singing beautiful songs that evoke memories of home and stir emotions.

I also have a group of children in different parts of the camp whom I visit regularly. We sing songs related to awareness in general and preserving the memory of our homeland with patriotic songs that build in their minds the homeland we dream of.

This question brought tears to my eyes. One evening, at the end of a long, tiring day, a doctor named Amina from the kidney hospital called me. After introducing herself, she said they had a patient undergoing dialysis who was experiencing a severe psychological crisis and wanted me to come to the hospital and sing him a well-known song by the great Sudanese artist, Al-Nur Al-Jilani. Luckily, I knew that song by heart. I sang it often. I called the percussionist, Musab, and luckily he was also free. We agreed to meet in half an hour at the kidney hospital. Those were some of the most beautiful moments we spent with that young man. We sang beautifully, and all the patients in that ward joined in. From there, the spirit of the occasion spread to everyone in the dialysis ward. Every patient would ask for their favorite song, and we would sing it together with all our love. Later, I heard that the young man had died due to the lack of resources at the hospital because of the war. This question stirred up great sorrow and deep sadness for my friends who died due to the lack of healthcare in hospitals because of this cursed war.

What gives you the strength to continue working despite displacement and difficulties?

Working with children makes me feel like l've truly returned to childhood, and I can reshape my life through them. Their purity and innocence soothe the soul and give me a strong motivation to do good, think positively, and be optimistic about a better tomorrow. I married a wonderful woman in the camp. She's a good singer with a beautiful voice, and we now form a singing duo. She also has three children-a daughter and two sons-whom I love very much. They've been a great source of motivation for me to face life better.

In addition, I've made new friends, whom life has given me as a kind of compensation for the friends I lost in Sudan.

What message or thing do you want people outside of Sudan to understand about the Sudanese people, their culture, and their daily lives?

I believe that every Sudanese person who has left Sudan is a true ambassador, carrying noble human values that enrich your life wherever you go. But what I want to say to the world is that the Sudanese people have suffered for 37 years under a totalitarian regime that doesn't recognize pluralism, a racist regime that divided the country into two parts, North and South, based on ethnicity, and is prepared to tear the country apart to remain in power at any cost. So please forgive us if you see anything from us that displeases you, for our souls are weary from exile, and we need a little rest and stability to create and fill the world with love and peace.

We are a people of diverse cultures and ethnicities, and we consider our homeland a microcosm of Africa, so we feel that all of Africa is our home.

What are your hopes for the future of Sudan?

I hope that peace will come soon, and that we will enjoy a democratic, federal government in which the slogans of the glorious December Revolution (Freedom, Peace, and Justice) are realized.

Who are the people around you today who provide support, strength and inspiration?

The kids at camp, my wife and friends.

What are the most prominent challenges facing artists and refugees inside the camp?

Financial capabilities and means of earning a living, in addition to the lack of musical instruments and the absence of good clubs, artistic centers and studios, and even if they exist, high production costs in light of Cairo's financial conditions is a major challenge. The inability to move after sunset due to the security risks in the camp is also a difficult challenge.

Despite the difficulties, were there moments of hope, joy, or a sense of community and belonging during your time in Uganda?

I loved the Ugandan people very much, and life in Uganda as well. I look forward to visiting many countries and peoples in Africa if the opportunity arises, and I feel a strong sense of belonging to the continent (I am African, I am Sudanese).

Do you believe that music and art can help preserve Sudanese identity and culture for communities far from home?

Absolutely. Music and all the arts play a role in documenting the journey of life, preserving the memory of peoples, and safeguarding the cultural heritage of societies. This is especially important in our current situation as Sudanese, where we have nothing but our cultural heritage that connects us to our homeland. We feel this connection in our songs and dances, and in the stories and tales our mothers and fathers tell us about our country.

In times of war and displacement, what role do you believe art can play in healing people and preserving humanity?

We have a project called "Recovery" where we use the arts in general to help people recover from the trauma of war. As I mentioned, we also work to preserve the memory of our homeland through songs that connect us to our homes. During this difficult experience, many young people turned to addiction, so it was essential to stand with our brothers and sisters who were overwhelmed by the sorrows and suffering of displacement. The impact of the "Recovery" initiative was significant and evident in containing the trauma and providing psychological support to refugees from northern Sudan.

What is your daily life like now inside the Kiriandongo camp?

Life in Uganda is generally beautiful, the people are very kind, and the tropical atmosphere is pleasant. However, sources of income are almost non-existent, as the effort is great and the return is small. But this is the situation of refugees everywhere, but here the situation is better than for Sudanese refugees in many countries.

Were you able to build artistic or social relationships with other refugees or with people in Uganda?

Of course, music is able to reach all people without difficulty. I believe that we, as North Sudanese artists, are the only ones who have been able to emulate the Nuer tribal community from South Sudan. Following the incidents of violence between the two communities, we, a group of artists from North Sudan, took the initiative to visit the Nuer community and composed a joint singing work, and also with the Kakwa tribe community with their musical band in Uganda, and also a joint work with a Ugandan and South Sudanese singer in the process of composing.

One aspect of your work that particularly touched us was your initiative of performing for patients undergoing kidney dialysis. Music has the power to bring comfort in extraordinary ways. Is there one encounter from those hospital visits that has stayed with you over the years?

We learned about your work through your relationship with your friend and fellow artist, Asim Al-Tayeb ("The Dark-Skinned Sudanese"). How did you first meet? And what does this artistic relationship mean to you?

The musician Asim Al-Tayeb was a rare creative phenomenon for me. I used to follow his videos on YouTube until a mutual friend suggested I speak with him on the phone to ask him about a marriage ritual among the tribes of the Blue Nile in the Ingessana region of South Sudan. Years later, he asked some friends to recommend someone to work with on a documentary film series, and that person was me. Since then, a friendship has developed between us that I would describe as incredibly strong, given our shared concerns and many common themes. However, the war separated us, and we are now in different directions, although we maintain regular contact through social media. As for our artistic relationship, I believe I was greatly influenced by Asim's experience, and I consider it very inspiring for me and many other artists.

Before concluding our conversation, Awad shared with us the story of his friend and fellow Sudanese artist, Asim Al-Tayeb. It was, in fact, a video of Asim's music that first led us to discover Awad and begin this conversation. Awad also told us about Asim's remarkable work using music to help teach subjects such as chemistry, physics, and mathematics.

We asked him about the friendship and artistic bond they have shared over the years.

Your work has a strong sense of identity and belonging to the community. Are there specific Sudanese traditions, regions, or communities that have significantly influenced your art and music?

I grew up in central Sudan, in the capital Khartoum, but my extensive travels have exposed me to many different cultures and musical styles, all of which I find amazing and inspiring. However, the Mardoum rhythm of western Sudan holds a special place in my heart. Recently, I was introduced to some truly captivating rhythms at the World African Day Festival in Kampala. It was a very inspiring experience, especially the Burundian drum troupe, which had a profound impact on me.

What musical instruments do you usually use in your performances and artistic works? Do they have a special connection to Sudanese culture, traditions, or stories?

I use the oud and the guitar, and l'm also experimenting with the rababa, a folk instrument I cherish and am trying to master. It's a stringed instrument with five strings that embody the pentatonic scale we sing in most parts of Sudan.

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