On a chilly October morning in Amsterdam, the familiar voice of reporter Elamin Babow echoed through the modest office of Radio Dabanga, reading out the latest headlines to a world far removed from the city’s canals and bicycles. For millions of Sudanese, many of them displaced, traumatized, or clinging to hope amid civil war, these broadcasts are more than just news—they are a lifeline. But that lifeline is now fraying, threatened by a funding crisis that could silence one of the last independent voices covering Sudan’s ongoing catastrophe.
Radio Dabanga, exiled some 3,000 miles from Sudan, has been broadcasting from Amsterdam since 2008. The station was founded by Kamal Elsadig, a soft-spoken journalist in his early 60s, who fled his hometown of el-Fasher to create an independent platform for Darfur and the wider Sudanese community. Over the years, the station has become an indispensable source of verified information for a country where, according to Free Press Unlimited, nearly 90% of media infrastructure has been destroyed since war erupted in 2023. More than 400 journalists have fled the country, and over a dozen have been killed or kidnapped, as reported by the Committee to Protect Journalists.
The civil war, pitting the Sudanese army against the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF), has unleashed a humanitarian disaster. The Norwegian Refugee Council estimates that 150,000 people have died and around 14 million have been forced to flee their homes. The RSF, which evolved directly from the notorious Janjaweed militia responsible for the Darfur genocide, stands accused of mass killings, sexual violence, and starvation sieges across western and central Sudan. In October 2025, the International Criminal Court in The Hague convicted Janjaweed leader Ali Muhammad Ali Abd–Al-Rahman of war crimes and crimes against humanity—a grim reminder that history’s darkest chapters are far from closed.
Against this backdrop, Radio Dabanga’s role has only grown more critical. The station reports on the shifting frontlines, disease outbreaks in refugee camps, and atrocities such as those in el-Fasher. Its journalists, working from exile, strive to shed light on a country that, as Elsadig puts it, "has become completely in a darkness of access to information." For many listeners, especially those in refugee camps or areas cut off from internet and satellite communications, Radio Dabanga is the only way to know what’s happening to their families and communities.
But in early 2025, the station’s future was thrown into jeopardy. President Trump’s administration slashed most U.S. foreign assistance programs, gutting a funding stream that made up more than half of Radio Dabanga’s nearly $3 million budget. The impact was immediate and brutal: staff and freelancers were let go, and the station’s cherished morning broadcast was suspended. The response from listeners was swift and desperate. Messages poured in from across Sudan and the diaspora. One listener wrote from a refugee camp in eastern Chad, "We don't know what is happening to our families and we depend very much on Radio Dabanga." Another pleaded, "We hope that the morning service is resumed soon. It is important to us in Northern Sudan."
Elsadig recalls the confusion and anxiety that followed: "They saying, what's going on? We didn't hear Dabanga today. Is there any problem happening? Please tell us, because this is the only way we get information." For a country plunged into chaos, the silence was deafening.
In an effort to keep the station alive, supporters in Amsterdam rallied. On October 22, 2025, as the city buzzed with the energy of the Amsterdam Dance Event (ADE)—one of the world’s largest annual electronic music festivals—a quieter, more somber gathering took place nearby. The "Break the Silence for Sudan" fundraiser, hosted by Jean-Pierre Fisher and the group Marimba Amsterdam, brought together activists, journalists, and members of the Sudanese diaspora. Among them were sisters Maaza and Amany Altareeh, who had come to the Netherlands three years earlier seeking asylum.
For Maaza, aged 33, and her 27-year-old sister Amany, Radio Dabanga is a rare anchor to their homeland. With internet and satellite networks collapsing back in Sudan, reaching family members has become almost impossible. "It is really difficult to reach them because there is no internet, there are no satellites," Maaza explained. The only hope is if someone nearby has access to Starlink satellite internet, a rare luxury. As for news, Maaza said, "Anytime that we see any type of news, we try to hold [onto] that. This is still happening in Sudan: People are starving and dying and being killed, kidnapped, assaulted, all of these things. And it is important for the radio as the last stand, since there are no televisions now, there are no newspapers..."
The fundraiser offered a glimmer of hope. "Honestly, I was so happy to know that there are people who are not even Sudanese who care about it, it's very special to me," Maaza said, her voice tinged with gratitude. Amany, meanwhile, was eager to share the news with their father back in Sudan, taking photos and preparing to show him that "a lot of people still care."
Yet the financial gap remains daunting. As of late October, only a few thousand dollars had been raised—far short of the $1.5 million needed to keep the station on air. Radio Dabanga’s budget is expected to run out by April 2026. While the station’s website may continue, Elsadig warns that most Sudanese listeners depend on radio, not the internet. "Much more is at stake than the future of the dozen journalists who work in the Amsterdam studio. Many Sudanese people may die if they lose reliable information in a time of war," he said.
Elsadig’s determination is unwavering. "We will continue fighting on this, and we will keep hoping," he declared. The fate of Radio Dabanga, and by extension the flow of information to millions of Sudanese, hangs in the balance—a stark reminder of how fragile truth and connection can be in times of conflict.
As the world’s attention shifts and the headlines fade, the struggle for Sudanese voices to be heard continues, buoyed by the resilience of exiled journalists and the solidarity of a global community that refuses to let the silence win.