Al-Khureida… Madani

As one of our eloquent speakers said, “Hantoub sits near Madani like the hamza on its line.”

And we say, rather like the curve in its waist,

and the mole on its cheek,

leading to our Nile, whispering to it and sharing its secrets, cooling from its waters and quenching its thirst with its pure flow…

And swimming in its waves…

Madani speaks of men like fierce lions…

And its people, as they say:

They are fiery and proud,

kind, generous, and forgiving,

carriers of burdens,

solvers of problems,

brothers of the daughters,

they are the dawn, hope, the evening meal,

they are reassurance, safety, help, and support

for their children…

They are the milk and the sorghum, the guardian and the tough ones, the wisdom and the shield.

They are “the unknown” and “yes,” they are dignity

for their farmers and workers…

All of this was before the “malaqit” (spurious newcomers) dirtied it with their filthy feet, these vile, wretched scoundrels.

However, the people of Madani, like gold, become even shinier when heated by hardship…

Their paths only resonate more.

We’ve heard strange stories about the people of Madani in times of war… They embraced those who came from Khartoum in refugee camps at their schools…

They tell you about the groom who shared his breakfast with the refugees at the camp…

He delighted them a little and they celebrated with him, sharing joy, songs, and drums…

And the man who distributed ice for free, cooling the thirsty and the burnt-out souls of those exhausted by displacement…

And the one who sacrificed the Madani horned goats every Thursday, offering them to the displaced, along with their fava beans, onions, sugar, and vermicelli…

And Fatimah, may God bless her, at ninety, bent over but her resolve never faltered. She would brew tea for the displaced children every morning and feed them homemade fritters with her withered hands until her pure soul passed away in one of those camps…

For a person is with the one they love.

And a loaf from your own pocket… Its goodness filled the hungry bellies and noble souls…

Madani, founded by Khurshid Pasha during the Ottoman era in 1821, was the capital of Sudan when our Khartoum was between water and mud…

Oh, I wish I could spend a night in the valley of Madani…

For then I would be happy.

Would I spend a night in Mazad, Awad and Marengan, Dardak, Mayo, Andalus, Al-Manira, and its people who are radiant…

Or in the Zamalek neighborhood, where the Madani people (the resilient ones) live?

Or in Wad Azraq, Hantoub, and the Island of the Elephant, Banat Sa’ad, my heart today overwhelmed…

And the University of the Island, the Island Project, Marengan, Barakat, and the sincere greetings to the people of the Island from Rifa’a, Al-Aseilat, Al-Halawiyyin, Al-‘Irkiyyin, Al-Khawalid, Al-‘Awamra, Al-Shabaraqa, Al-Kawahla, Al-Shukriya, Al-Muslimiyya, and the like…

It was founded five hundred years ago by Sheikh Madani al-Sunni, the son of Dushin, the judge of justice who migrated to Sudan from southern Egypt, our sisterly country…

Would I leave Madani and go live nearby…

As Muhammad Miskin sang…

And Madani is the long, brown sun, with its mosques spread far…

It gave birth to Major General Muhammad Naguib, the first Egyptian president, and the Egyptian cinema star Ibrahim Khan (from our beloved aunt Fawzia’s family).

And Madani gave birth to Al-Kashif, Al-Misah,

and Insaf Madani, Essam Mohamed Noor,

Mohamed Miskin, Ramadan Hassan,

Santo, Hamouri,

Hamad, Al-Diba, something extraordinary,

and Madani… Haidar Katama and Abbas Barclays,

Essam Hassan…

It’s Ahmed Khair, the lawyer,

Amin Maki Madani,

Abu Arki Al-Bakhit,

Abdel Aziz Al-Mubarak,

Ramadan Hassan,

Milleji,

Ya Fadlallah Mohamed… Madani is a little hurt…

May it be far from harm.

And Madani is Hantoub, Mr. Brown, Jaafar Nimeiri, Hassan Al-Turabi, Abdel Aziz Shido, and Mohamed Ibrahim Naqd… And many others who lived in Hantoub’s yards and fields, drawing knowledge from it, and later became the leaders and figures of the glorious 1956 state… How many crossed the Blue Nile, swimming and playing in the beautiful fields of Hantoub, with its magnificent view…

Here is where literature thrives, and here is where youth work for their homeland,

not seeking rewards,

to you, the greatest message is to teach ignorance…

May Allah have mercy on Mohamed Awad Al-Karim Al-Qurashi and Al-Khair Osman.

Indeed, Madani will return,

and its glory, beauty, goodness, and brightness will shine again.

Its light will shine and its blessings will flow over the people of Sudan, for the Island, in general, is the mother of noble men, who gave and still give…

It gave the righteous,

the people of the mosque,

Sheikh Al-Junaid, Sheikh Abu Daa’a, Sheikh Banga Al-Darir, Sheikh Halawi, Sheikh Omar, Sheikh Abu Qurun, Sheikh Abu Sheeba, Al-Jumri, Batran, Shumu, Al-Qadal, Senteber, Abdel-Baqi, Awd Al-Sayed, Awd Al-Jid, Awd Al-Darb, Al-Muslimi, Al-Kasheef, Al-Mushammar, Timasah Al-Turki, Wad Issa, Wad Kinan, Wad Modawi, Wad Niq’a, Wad Al-Turabi, Wad Al-Shafi’i, Wad Basati, Wad Dif Allah, Wad Ab Adari, Abdullah, Wad Umm Mariyum, Barir, Wad Al-Hussain, Hajjo, Wad Al-Betul Qurashi, Wad Al-Zayn, Al-Muslimi, Wad Ab Nissa…

And it gave birth to the Shadhili, Samaniyyah, Qadriyyah, Al-Hindi, and the Sheikhs of Al-Dabasin, Al-Yaqoubab, Al-Hassaniyyah, Al-Rakabiyyah, Al-Halawiyyin, Al-Muslimiyyah.

It gave and never stopped giving…

And it will expel the scum, for they will perish…

And to the end…

Goodbye to Daqlo…

Goodbye to Daqlo…