Like many others who remained in the city despite its chaos, the church's residents sought fleeting moments of rest. 

Yet, under the shroud of night, tension rippled through the hearts of the Catholic nuns and their priests, who had been sheltering in the church since the conflict erupted on April 15, 2023.

Their fear was tangible, their quickened heartbeats seeming loud enough to betray them to RSF snipers stationed atop surrounding rooftops, ever watchful. 

A man in his forties, dressed in civilian clothes but belonging to the national forces, approached the church hurriedly. He gestured toward a convoy of armoured black vehicles at the gate, motioning for the nuns, the priest, and their young assistant to board discreetly. Time was critical—other church residents could awaken at any moment, exposing the plan to leave the haven that had sheltered them for years through hardship and war. 

Zero Hour: The Secret Plan Unfolds 
 

At 10:00 p.m., the secret evacuation plan, orchestrated by the Sudanese Armed Forces and the General Intelligence Service, began. The mission was to relocate the Catholic nuns, priests, and assistants from Al-Shajara Church in Khartoum to Omdurman and onward to Port Sudan, where they would return to their homelands. 

The convoy of black-camouflaged armoured vehicles moved cautiously from Al-Shajara, just two kilometres from the Armored Corps headquarters—a prime target for RSF artillery and snipers. At a predetermined point, the evacuees disembarked and crossed the White Nile by boat to Omdurman. 

The Church of Our Lady of Mary, comprising a church, a nunnery, and a school, had long served as a sanctuary. But as the conflict intensified, its proximity to military sites turned it into a frontline battleground, relentlessly targeted by RSF forces. 

Resilience Amid Conflict 
 

The Catholic nuns, members of the Salesian Sisters of Don Bosco in Rome, had dedicated their lives to the church's mission: running a care centre for orphaned children and providing medical assistance to surrogate mothers. Even as violence escalated, they refused to abandon their humanitarian work. 

Sister Teresa, a Polish nun in her seventies, recounted: 

"When the war broke out, we quickly prepared our facility to support those in need. We cooked meals for the 850 children who attended our school, even as it became too dangerous for them to reach us. Eventually, we began delivering food to their homes, risking our lives to ensure they didn't go hungry."

The church opened its doors to Muslims and Christians alike, offering refuge without discrimination. But the horrors of war took their toll. Sister Mary, who tirelessly treated the wounded, was too traumatized to speak. Her colleagues explained that the atrocities she had witnessed had deeply scarred her. 

A Dangerous Location 
 

Father Jacob, an Indian priest who had lived in Sudan for 39 years, described the church's difficult location: 

"The nunnery was surrounded by RSF-controlled areas, making it impossible to leave. Snipers occupied the rooftops of nearby buildings, killing civilians indiscriminately. Once, 15 people were shot dead near the church simply for crossing the open street."

He recalled a harrowing incident in November: 

"We were celebrating the Feast of St. Martin Paul when an RSF shell tore through the northern wing of our building. One of the nuns cried for help; she had been injured by shrapnel. Moments later, another blast created a massive hole in the wall. It was clear we could no longer stay."

The Long Road to Safety 
 

After months of delays, the Sudanese Armed Forces launched the covert evacuation in July. Code-named "Moon Eclipse," the operation relied on absolute secrecy. 

The mission was carried out in two phases: first, the evacuation of the nuns, the priest, and their assistant, followed by the relocation of 106 civilians, including 78 children and 28 surrogate mothers.

The convoy moved silently under the cover of darkness. Once across the Nile, the evacuees were transported to Omdurman, where the absence of gunfire and the glow of streetlights felt surreal. After a brief respite, they continued overland to Port Sudan before departing the country. 

The Challenges of Planning 
 

The officer overseeing the mission explained: 

"We named the operation 'Moon Eclipse' because RSF snipers, equipped with advanced long-range rifles, posed a constant threat. The brightness of the moon heightened the risk. Before the mission, we conducted precision strikes to neutralize the snipers near the church."

He emphasized the mission's complexity, which required coordination with multiple international entities, including the Vatican and the International Red Cross. 

Despite the operation's success, some South Sudanese families chose to remain, citing a lack of secure alternatives. Around 55 individuals stayed behind, underscoring the enduring challenges of the conflict. 

A Universal Tragedy 
 

This poignant story of resilience, faith, and humanity underscores a sobering truth: in the Sudanese war, suffering transcends religion. Muslims and Christians found unity in their grief, strength, and hope for peace.

*Photography by Mohamed Issa