Director of Madaniya: Art is what can unite the Sudanese spirit
moatinoon
In the first Sudanese film screening to be held in Greece, Sudanese people in the capital, Athens, celebrated the showing of Madaniya, a documentary that chronicles the events of the December 2019 revolution. The screening took place on the evening of Saturday, April 6, and drew a large audience of hundreds from various nationalities, including a strong presence of Sudanese attendees—especially recently arrived refugees who came in groups from nearby camps.
Despite limited time and a small organizing team—mostly newcomers—the event was organized in a spontaneous Sudanese way, far from rigid formal structures. That “informality” may have been the secret to its success. The Greek cultural context, with its own Eastern temperament, also played a role in the audience’s enthusiastic engagement.
The venue itself helped attract a diverse crowd, as it’s a popular spot for Europeans from different backgrounds, including tourists, residents, and especially digital nomads. This gave the event a uniquely vibrant atmosphere, despite the cold weather.
Sudanese women had a remarkable presence: they were involved in organizing, preparing food and drinks, leading chants, and contributing to the discussions—offering a full, dynamic picture of the Sudanese community.
Against the backdrop of this unique occasion, Muwatheen sat down with the film’s director, Mohamed Sabbahi, who personally attended the screening and was the keynote speaker during the discussion that followed. Here is our conversation with him:
Why Madaniya?
Madaniya means a civilian government—a government that the youth dream of. A government of institutions, of justice, of peace. All these values are contained in the word Madaniya.
Is Madaniya the actual name of the film? What’s the message behind it?
Yes, the film is called Madaniya. The message is that there is a dream—a dream we took to the streets—and we want to keep holding onto that dream. The film also documents the sit-in and the broader revolution.
How has the film been received? What impact has it had, in your view?
It’s still a new film, but it has been shown in several European countries and in London. It has mostly been viewed by foreigners who are often surprised to learn that a country called Sudan even exists. Many had never heard of it before.
So is the film made for a foreign audience?
The film is primarily for Sudanese people, but also for others. The main goal is for Sudanese audiences to remember the revolution—that we went out into the streets. That’s one of the reasons I came here—to meet the Sudanese community in Athens. And I’ll go anywhere else I can reach.
But the film also targets non-Sudanese viewers. Has it succeeded in that?
Yes. After every screening, there’s a discussion, and people always say they didn’t know anything about Sudan. At the Sheffield Film Festival—one of the very major ones—the curator told me that one of the reasons they selected the film wasn’t just the story itself, but the image of Sudan. He said, “You as a people are unknown. The world has no idea who you are or what your country is like.” And maybe that’s intentional—maybe it’s part of keeping Sudan absent from the global narrative.
Is that absence the fault of Sudanese people themselves?
Not really a fault—its more about lack of resources.
What do you mean?
I mean we, as filmmakers, don’t have enough funding to take our work to a global stage. We can’t even get our news out. Why don’t we have a TV channel that broadcasts to the world in English and Arabic? International media is politicized, with its own agendas. European media has other priorities. And geopolitically, Sudan isn’t seen as important—though it is important. But importance has levels. Economic weight, for example. Sudan is still considered marginal by many.
Compare that with the Palestinian issue, for example. I personally support the Palestinian cause. At most festivals, there are ten Palestinian films, including opening-night screenings. Meanwhile, at some events, I was the only one representing Sudan. At a festival in Egypt, there were ten Palestinian films, including the opening film. That kind of presence becomes symbolic. When I asked why there were no Sudanese films, people said: You Sudanese have your own internal problems.
There are many Sudanese artists, painters, and directors in Europe and the West. But there seems to be a lack of unity or coordination. What’s the problem?
We Sudanese artists—filmmakers, writers, musicians—we are known globally. For example, Kamala Ishaq is a world-renowned painter who’s won international awards...
So where’s the problem?
The problem is media. The media, in general, is not interested in Sudanese stories. For example, I personally know ten visual artists who have had a big influence on North African art. They’ve been living in Kenya since 1989, after the Islamic movement’s coup in Sudan, which shut down cinemas and dried up the arts colleges. These artists migrated and settled in Kenya. Theyve been there for 25–30 years, sharing their work and Sudanese culture, and theyve been well-received. When the war broke out, at least 30 more Sudanese artists joined them. They found an existing foundation and built their studios and lives there.
That’s why art is important. From my own experience making Madaniya over the past five years, I believe that art is what can truly bring us together as Sudanese—just like it brought us together in the sit-in square. Art is what can unite the Sudanese spirit and connect the people.
How do you evaluate the experience in Athens?
It was a complete success—100%. Sudanese people gathered from all around to attend. Some came from refugee camps, and we later organized a second screening for those who couldn’t make it the first time.
How many attended?
The venue was small—about 45 people attended, including non-Sudanese like Syrians and Libyans. Some were so moved by the scenes that they cried.
Has this experience been repeated in other countries?
This was the first, and I was excited about it, so I came personally.
Have you thought about screenings in African countries?
Yes, I plan to screen the film in Nairobi and Kampala in May. On April 15, there will be another screening at the Cairo Festival. These will be open screenings, free for all Sudanese to attend.
Does that mean the film received good support?
Right now, the film’s priority is festivals. After a year, it can be shown anywhere. What’s important is that I was able to screen it in five Sudanese states shortly after its international premiere. The first global screening was in the UK last June at the Sheffield Festival, then two days later, it was shown in Sudan.
There’s even a funny story—we didn’t have a power connection for the screening, so we borrowed one from the army. They came and watched the film, and the audience started chanting.
What did that mean to you?
It meant that Madaniya—civilian rule—is still alive. People haven’t forgotten the idea. The struggle continues. People are still holding on to the dream of a modern Sudanese state—a state of justice.
You live in Germany and are a German citizen, meaning you’re in the EU—in a haven of freedom. How can artists use this space of liberty to raise awareness and break Sudan’s isolation in the European public sphere?
I lived in Germany for about three years before deciding to return to Sudan, and I actually did go back. Now I live around Sudan—because my work and my stories are focused on Sudan. I’ve stayed in Kenya and Egypt, and I’m currently living in Egypt. I chose to be near Sudan to create my films and tell our stories to the world.
When I was in Germany, people used to ask me about Sudan, and I would try to find videos on YouTube, but all you’d see was war. So I decided to return in 2018 and make films about Sudan. While I was filming, the revolution broke out, and I picked up my camera and started documenting it. The reason I went back to Sudan was to produce stories for audiences in Germany and Europe—stories beyond war. We have lives. We have a culture.
How can we better engage the large Sudanese diaspora in Europe to break the silence around Sudan?
I’ve lived in many countries, and as a Sudanese, I’ve always tried to be part of the community. There is a kind of isolation—there are different generations. Some Sudanese came to Europe in the 1970s, and they’re disconnected from the younger generation.
I believe if we had community centers, clubs, or meeting spaces, people could come together, think collectively, and organize activities. Before the revolution, such spaces existed but were often controlled by the Islamic movement and tied to embassies. But if we establish our own clubs and associations independently, we can bring people together and support each other.
So Sudanese people must take initiative?
No one will help you if you don’t start helping yourself. We saw how Sudanese communities and their unions mobilized during the revolution. They organized protests in London and Germany. Huge numbers turned out. So why not come together again, just like before?
The war has had a deep impact, hasn’t it?
The war has affected everything—it’s created deep divisions. It’s affected our entire lives. Even families are split. But that’s part of the war’s consequences. Still, we must keep pushing to stop the war. I believe the war must end. That means agreeing on a constitution and laws, and making Sudan our shared goal. We must put Sudan first and rebuild from the ground up.
