When Mahmoud Usman was 25 years old, the war in Sudan was already years under way. Situations had grown dire in his native Darfur, Sudan, so much that he uprooted his life and fled for fear of what was to come.
After navigating treacherous borders and enduring uncertainty, Usman reached Israel in search of safety. Fourteen years later, in 2024, his asylum application was tentatively approved, allowing him to remain in a country where he has built a new life.
Usman is a quiet guy. He presented himself as reserved, certainly not a person to chat your ear off. It raised the question: is he typically quiet, or could spending almost a decade and a half in limbo have instilled a fear of speaking out, out of concern for what could happen to his status?
Though he is timid, his experiences told of sacrifice: leaving home without anyone on your side, because opportunities to leave before it’s too late are far and few between.
On his treacherous overland journey from Darfur to Israel, Usman headed north, through Egypt, his first stop in the asylum process that ultimately acted as a six-month layover on his way to Israel.
“I was in Egypt for six months, but I ended up deciding to move on because the process was taking too long,” he said with a chuckle. “But at least I was approved in the end!”
Usman’s story begins in the conflict-ridden region of Darfur, where civil strife reached devastating heights in the early 2000s. Sudan’s civil war, which erupted in 2003, pitted Sudanese government forces and allied Janjaweed militias against rebel groups that sought to challenge the government’s marginalization of the region. The violence led to atrocities, including mass killings, displacement, and accusations of genocide.
By 2010, the conflict showed no signs of abating. Entire villages were destroyed, and millions of civilians were forced into refugee camps or exiled from their homeland. Usman, like many young men from Darfur, faced the harrowing reality of either conscription into militias or becoming a target of ethnic cleansing campaigns.
More than a decade after he fled his home, conflict raged on. In 2023, Sudan descended into chaos once again, as conflict erupted between the Sudanese Armed Forces and the Rapid Support Forces, a mercenary group with roots in the Janjaweed militias responsible for atrocities in Darfur. The violence in Khartoum and other regions has led to further displacement and devastation. Attacks by militia groups on civilians were ever increasing.
In 2010, Usman had been watching atrocities being committed in his community. There were frequent explosions and famine, and he knew that staying put could be fatal. At this point, he became a refugee, as had 700,000 others from Sudan since the early 2000s. Darfur had faced total devastation, and Usman knew that if he didn’t leave with the resources he had managed to provide for himself, his life could be cut short.
Unfortunately, leaving came at the cost of parting ways with his family. His siblings and his parents remained behind. He did not elaborate on their choices to stay put, but it all boiled down to the reality that he was able to make this happen for himself, and they wanted what was best for him.
The journey begins
The perilous journey across North Africa, going north to Israel via the Sinai Peninsula, is a route that has been taken by thousands of asylum-seekers driven by the need to survive, escaping war and persecution. Of the people Usman traveled with, a handful did not make it as far as he did; some even perished en route from disease, violence, and other troubles that popped up along the way.
The journey, which was completed largely on foot, was fraught with danger, as migrants risked capture by human traffickers, harsh desert conditions, and deadly confrontations.
HAVING SURVIVED the trek, Usman faced the challenge of illegally crossing the Egypt-Israel border, knowing that he would soon be met by IDF troops who would bring him somewhere to begin processing.
“We knew to expect this, that the soldiers would detain us,” Usman explained. They were given basic supplies, such as water and blankets, and were transferred to a detention center near the border.
Upon arrival at the center, Usman was processed, and he spent six to seven months in an open-air prison facility filled with others awaiting court dates to begin their asylum process. Like many asylum-seekers, he faced an uncertain future, navigating a bureaucratic process that could take years to yield results. In detention, he had meetings with officers, had medical care, and was fed.
Usman clarified that he had spent multiple stretches of time in processing facilities after his initial release. He would be brought back to detention multiple times due to being late to appointments associated with his case. “If you were late to an appointment, you would be rearrested. You’d spend however long again, being reprocessed and remaining detained, until they let you out,” Usman said, noting that summonses for asylum applications still had to balance with work and life responsibilities. “That was the rule, though. If you were late, you would be re-arrested.”
Israel’s asylum system has long been a subject of debate, with critics pointing to the lengthy wait times and the limited number of approved applications. By 2024, only a small fraction of asylum-seekers from Sudan and Eritrea had been granted refugee status.
In the late fall of 2024, Usman would be one of the few to cross that finish line, pending ratification from a judge. His journey through the asylum process exemplified the difficulties involved. His application, submitted shortly after his arrival in 2010, was caught in administrative limbo for over a decade. Yet, he remained hopeful, working various jobs in Israel and immersing himself in community initiatives aimed at supporting migrants.
After meeting with a judge, he was ultimately “set free” to figure out how to live in Israel like the rest of the population. He would build his next chapter and make the life he deserved to have for himself.
Population and Immigration Authority data place the current asylum-seeking population at 30,000, with an estimated 4,000 from Sudan. An additional 19,000 asylum-seekers are from Eritrea, with other groups in smaller populations. There are about 8,000 children of asylum-seekers who are on this same journey with their parents, with a majority born in Israel.
According to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, the construction of the Egypt-Israel border fence in June 2012 marked a decrease in new arrivals, who would be subject to detention under the Anti-Infiltration Law – a decrease from over 12,000 in mid-2012 to only 22 in 2014; 220 in 2015; 18 in 2016; and 0 since May 2016.
However, as a nation of survivors of genocide, persecution, and torture through the centuries, the State of Israel acknowledges that should many of the seekers return to their place of origin, their danger could be fatal.
According to ASSAF, the Aid Organization for Refugees and Asylum Seekers in Israel, an NGO that promotes and advocates for refugee and asylum-seeker rights and provides other forms of support, most asylum-seekers currently in Israel have been in Israel since 2006-2007. This organization, along with several other Tel Aviv-based migrant aid groups, noted that though an exorbitant number of applications had been received, thousands of asylum applications were yet to be processed, with many on hold for years on end. According to the organization’s website, though recognition of refugee status globally was around 90% for Eritrean seekers and around 60% for Sudanese, Israel’s recognition of them collectively is at less than a half percent.
Keeping asylum-seekers like Usman in limbo indefinitely can have problematic downsides like lack of access to social services and benefits. However, he said that his experience didn’t reflect that. He was able to access medical care and found work. Noting that the he did not have the opportunity to attend university, he learned by doing.
Following his release from detention, around six months after he was brought there by armed forces, he began what would turn out to be a 14-year-long limbo. After a short stint in south Tel Aviv, he found his way up to Haifa, but not without obstacles that would return him to facilities including the Holot detention center, which opened in 2013. In Haifa, perhaps it was the quiet, the colder weather, or even a large Arabic-speaking population; he found his way to what would become his home. He understood that he was responsible for building the life he would have here.
Being an asylum-seeker in Israel would still provide many more opportunities than he could have imagined back home.
His social circle widened. He took trips to places like the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee) and other unique landscapes across the country. He found work in a field he had never worked in before, construction, learning on the job.
He opened his own construction company – an opportunity he would not have had back home. Though he was in limbo, he knew that he felt comfortable enough to invest in himself in his new life to make the business come to life and thrive.
“I want to focus on developing my work and business more,” Usman said. “Now that [the asylum application] has been approved, I know I can keep growing my business!”
After 14 years of waiting, Usman would no longer need to think about the possible next steps he may need to take if his approval were to not go through. Still, until his asylum application approval is completely ratified by the proper authorities, his limbo continues. As of his December 2024 interview with The Jerusalem Post, he’d had no word of when everything would be closed and he would be free to live his life.
Finding asylum in Israel may not come with the same security that one finds in an EU nation, but it does come with protective measures taken for all those living in the country, from bomb shelters to frequent security checks and fast response times from first responders. He feels that Israel is indeed a safe option. Israel has become his land of opportunity.
“I really don’t know what my life would look like if I had stayed in Sudan. But really, I don’t have to think about that anymore,” Usman said.
What will his future look like, after the granting of refugee status? Only time will tell.