In a nation consumed by conflict, where the act of providing help can be a death sentence, an underground network of ordinary citizens has become the sole source of survival for millions. Across Sudan, volunteers with the grassroots Emergency Response Rooms (ERRs) operate in secrecy, navigating frontlines and evading armed factions to deliver food, medicine, and critical support.
The dangers are extreme. Volunteers report being hunted, detained, tortured, and killed by both the Sudanese Armed Forces and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF), with over 145 believed to have been executed. Their work is viewed with deep suspicion by the warring parties, who accuse them of political allegiance to the other side.
“You risk anything from intimidation to death. From torture to being killed—and anything in between,” said one volunteer from central Sudan, who described a close friend who died from torture received in detention.
Despite the pervasive threat, the network has swelled to approximately 26,000 members, operating in 96 districts. They have provided meals or assistance to more than half of Sudan’s population, effectively replacing collapsed state structures in a country where over 21 million face acute hunger.
The volunteers’ anonymity is their shield. Most conceal their activities even from their own families, fearing reprisals. “You have to sneak in and hope you make it back,” said a female volunteer who spent months secretly crossing frontlines to counsel survivors of sexual violence, a mission she hid from her mother.
Their effectiveness, however, has made them a target. Commanders from both sides are reportedly envious of the deep community trust the ERRs have earned. This distrust often turns violent. One volunteer described being arrested and tortured while distributing food, accused of collaborating with foreign forces. He believes a mass protest by local residents was all that secured his release.
“The protection we get emanates from the community itself,” he said.
While the network has been nominated for international recognition, including the Nobel Peace Prize, volunteers say such accolades are valued less for prestige and more for the potential protective shield they might offer. “For me, the Nobel prize is a protection measure,” one explained.
The ERRs now face a critical funding crisis. Operating at a severe deficit, they have received a minuscule fraction of international aid money allocated for Sudan, forcing the closure of hundreds of community kitchens. Direct funding pledges have been made, but volunteers warn that current resources will only last a few more months.
As the war grinds on, these volunteers continue their work, driven by a stark imperative. “There was a need to do something. They had nothing,” said the female counselor. For millions of Sudanese with nothing, these clandestine acts of courage remain the only thread holding society together.
