On the banks of the White Nile, the border town of Renk in South Sudan has become an unexpected epicenter of humanitarian crisis, as thousands of South Sudanese returnees find themselves stranded by a sudden halt in international aid. The plight of these returnees, most of whom fled the devastating war in Sudan that erupted in April 2023, has been sharply worsened by recent US foreign aid freezes and subsequent funding gaps, leaving many in limbo and struggling for basic survival.
Since the outbreak of the Sudanese conflict, more than 800,000 South Sudanese who had sought safety or opportunity in Sudan have been forced to return to their homeland, according to reports by The Guardian. For many, Renk was meant to be a temporary stop—a transit point where humanitarian agencies, notably the International Organization for Migration (IOM) and the South Sudanese government, would help them complete their journey home. But as of September 29, 2025, thousands remain stuck in increasingly dire conditions, after the onward transit program was suspended due to a lack of funding.
This funding gap did not arise in a vacuum. Earlier in 2025, the United States withdrew more than $4 billion in foreign aid, a move that reverberated across humanitarian operations worldwide. The freeze, initially deemed necessary by the Trump administration on grounds that the funds were "wasteful," was extended by the US Supreme Court on September 26, 2025, as reported by Reuters. The National Treasury in South Sudan now plans to approach parliament with a special appropriation bill aimed at plugging the shortfall in health sector funding, but the immediate needs on the ground remain acute.
In Renk, the consequences are plain to see. The transit centre, designed for a fraction of its current population, is now housing more than 9,000 people—three times its intended capacity. Many arrived with little more than the clothes on their backs, having endured the violence between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF), as well as the chaos of displacement. The United Nations has described the Sudanese conflict as one of the worst humanitarian crises of the 21st century, with more than 150,000 people killed, over 14 million displaced, and millions more in desperate need of aid.
For those stranded in Renk, the challenges are relentless. Food, water, and shelter are in critically short supply. The rainy season has only made things worse, turning the camp’s grounds into muddy pools and increasing the need for waterproof materials. Children can be seen gathering around water points with jerrycans, while men and women queue outside makeshift distribution centers, hoping for food. Others, like Musa Rajab, a 66-year-old who fled El-Gadarif in southeast Sudan, have been forced to use their meager cash assistance to buy tarpaulins for shelter. "I feel broken because the organisations stopped the travel," Rajab told The Guardian. "Life here is hard, because if you don’t have money, you face difficulties."
Rajab is not alone in his frustration. Many returnees, after receiving an initial cash grant—49,000 South Sudanese pounds, worth about £7—have found themselves with little support thereafter. Some, like 48-year-old Alel Agoth, have resorted to selling their own clothes and bedsheets to buy food for their families. Agoth, who arrived in Renk with her five grandchildren after fleeing from Omdurman in Sudan, said, "We sell our clothes to provide food for our children and ourselves because I do not have relatives here. If God provides us with a chance to travel, we will not hesitate to go."
The IOM’s onward transit programme, which previously moved people from Renk to strategic towns using barges and aircraft, had helped more than 250,000 people reach their final destinations between May 2023 and mid-2025. However, the suspension of this program in June 2025, directly linked to the US aid freeze, created a backlog that has only grown as more people cross the border. As Vladimir Mitkovski, IOM’s operations officer in Renk, explained, "The number is increasing. All the sectors are affected. All the sectors are overstretched."
Occasionally, a glimmer of hope emerges. In the first week of September 2025, the UK Foreign Office provided some funding, enabling the IOM to transport 915 people out of Renk. But these efforts are dwarfed by the scale of the crisis. Vijaya Souri, IOM’s chief of mission in South Sudan, underscored the urgency: "Each delay not only increases vulnerability but also puts lives at risk and erodes the dignity of displaced people who are already enduring unimaginable hardships. We urge governments and the international community to act swiftly to support these transport services, so displaced families are not left stranded and exposed."
Meanwhile, local authorities are scrambling to respond. Deng Ajack, deputy director of the Relief and Rehabilitation Commission, has indicated that the government is in talks to allocate additional land to relieve the overcrowding at the transit centre. Yet, with resources stretched thin and more returnees arriving, the prospects for a swift resolution remain uncertain.
The stories of those trapped in Renk are as varied as they are heartbreaking. Musa, who had traveled to Khartoum for medical treatment before working as a trainer and machine operator in El-Gadarif, survived two years of war before returning with his family. He now sleeps in a public facility while his wife and children shelter under a tarpaulin. "The situation here is bad," he said. "Every time I hear they will provide us with things, but nothing has reached me. Our goal is to travel. We do not wish to stay here."
Others, like Tut Dador, 32, are bracing for the challenges ahead. Displaced by flooding in Bentiu city in 2019, Dador moved to Omdurman for work before the war forced him back to South Sudan. Now in Renk with his wife and five children, he remains determined to return to Bentiu, even if conditions there are harsh. "Bentiu is my home. I will do what others in Bentiu do, and I believe I can live. There are many things lacking there, but we will adapt and live accordingly," he told The Guardian.
The broader context is equally grim. Years of conflict, rampant looting, and repeated natural disasters have left South Sudan’s infrastructure and social services in tatters. The recent US aid freeze—and the international community’s struggle to fill the resulting gaps—has only amplified the suffering of returnees and the burden on humanitarian organizations.
With the National Treasury now seeking parliamentary approval for emergency funding to shore up the health sector, the fate of thousands in Renk and beyond hangs in the balance. Their stories are a stark reminder of how swiftly political decisions on the global stage can reverberate through the lives of the world’s most vulnerable, upending hopes and forcing families to make impossible choices in the face of adversity.
