The weapons were loud, but there was always music’: Sudanese band play on through the war

Aswat Almadina, a once-thriving Sudanese band, has found its members dispersed across continents, yet their mission endures: to use music as a beacon of hope in a country battered by conflict. Timon, a founding member, fled Khartoum two months after the war erupted in 2023, haunted by the devastation he witnessed—ravaged neighborhoods, abandoned vehicles, and the haunting sight of bodies strewn across the capital’s streets. “It felt like a scene from a zombie film,” he recalls in the BBC Focus on Africa podcast, capturing the surreal horror of the moment.

Since the war began, over 150,000 lives have been lost, and more than 12 million Sudanese have become refugees, according to the UN. This has created the largest humanitarian crisis on record. Timon, whose stage name is Mohammed Almustafa, was part of the band since its formation in 2014. The group’s sound—a fusion of Middle Eastern folk traditions, modern pop, and jazz—mirrored the cultural heartbeat of Khartoum, a city once teeming with life and musical energy.

“We named our band ‘Sounds of the City’ because Khartoum was our muse,” says Timon. “The rhythm of daily life, the voices of the people, and the hum of the streets all shaped our music.” Their songs resonated deeply with Sudanese youth, addressing themes like inequality and corruption. This connection earned them a place as UNDP Goodwill Ambassadors in 2017. For Ibrahem Mahmoud, the band’s co-founder and lead singer, music has always been a tool for activism. He faced arrests for years before Omar al-Bashir’s fall in 2019, charged by national security for songs that criticized the regime.

The unrest began in December 2018, triggered by austerity measures that cut bread and fuel subsidies, sparking protests across Sudan. The movement, which grew from the east to the capital, culminated in Bashir’s ouster after three decades in power. During this time, Aswat Almadina’s lyrics became anthems of resistance, echoing through streets during demonstrations. Today, Ibrahem lives in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, after years in Nairobi, Kenya, while Timon resides in Cairo, Egypt, following a harrowing journey from the UAE to reunite with his family. “I missed my second child’s birth because of that,” he admits, highlighting the personal costs of survival.

Despite their exile, both artists still carry memories of Sudan’s former vibrancy. “It was beautiful. It was warm,” Ibrahem reflects, while Timon gazes at a photo from their last concert in Khartoum. “A month before the war, there was still a Khartoum. The city had lovely nights.” The band’s final days in the capital were marked by creativity amid chaos. They were in a small studio, surrounded by instruments and crafting new songs, when the gunfire began. “We didn’t think it was a war at first,” Ibrahem says. “It was confusing. We had never seen this before.”

As the conflict escalated, the studio became a sanctuary. Ibrahem continued recording, producing a track titled “Give Peace A Chance” with a collaborator in central Sudan. Yet, the process was fraught with challenges—unstable internet connections and constant shelling disrupted their work. “The weapons were loud, but there was always music going on,” he notes, underscoring the resilience of their art in the face of destruction.