• 180600_PPF_SUDAN_BobMiller_01_08
  • 180600_PPF_SUDAN_BobMiller_10_05
  • 180600_PPF_SUDAN_BobMiller_08_02
  • 180600_PPF_SUDAN_BobMiller_09_06
  • 180600_PPF_SUDAN_BobMiller_07_05
  • 180600_PPF_SUDAN_BobMiller_08_03
  • 180600_PPF_SUDAN_BobMiller_11_04
  • 180600_PPF_SUDAN_BobMiller_05_07
  • 180600_PPF_SUDAN_BobMiller_10_06
  • 180600_PPF_SUDAN_BobMiller_10_07
  • 180600_PPF_SUDAN_BobMiller_10_09
  • 180600_PPF_SUDAN_BobMiller_12_02
  • 180600_PPF_SUDAN_BobMiller_09_07
  • 180600_PPF_SUDAN_BobMiller_03_07

Vestiges of An Enduring Conflict

In 2011, the government of Sudan expelled all humanitarian groups from the country’s Nuba Mountains. Since then, the Antonov aircraft has terrorized the Nuba people, dropping more than 4,080 bombs on hospitals, schools, marketplaces and churches. Today, vestiges of the Antonov riddle the landscapes of daily life, where more than 1 million Nuba live in famine conditions, quietly enduring the humanitarian blockade intended to drive them out of the region. The skies are mostly clear. Yet the collective memory of the bombings remains an open wound, and the Antonov itself a persistent threat. So frequent were the attacks that the Nuba nicknamed the high flying aircraft and its dismal hum: "Gafal-nia ja,” they would declare, running to the hillsides. “The loss of appetite has come."

View complete essay with captions in the archive