{"id":51303,"date":"2025-07-12T17:47:37","date_gmt":"2025-07-12T14:47:37","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/?p=51303"},"modified":"2025-07-12T17:47:37","modified_gmt":"2025-07-12T14:47:37","slug":"al-azraq-where-is-your-smile-and-how-were-you-tamed","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/2025\/07\/12\/al-azraq-where-is-your-smile-and-how-were-you-tamed\/","title":{"rendered":"Al-Azraq\u2026 Where Is Your Smile? And How Were You Tamed?"},"content":{"rendered":"

As I See\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

By Adil El-Baz<\/strong><\/p>\n

1<\/strong>
\nHow can memory laugh and cry at the same time? I\u2019ve been torn ever since I heard the heartbreaking news. I tried, in vain, to convince myself it was false\u2014because how could I ever write about Al-Azraq without laughing? And how can one laugh when their heart is shattered and their soul crushed by grief?<\/p>\n

For over twenty years, I never once met him without our laughter preceding us. His smile always appeared first, revealing that signature gap between his teeth\u2014a gap that seemed to cast a beautiful shadow over the horizon of laughter. Our meetings began not with greetings or pleasantries, but with mad laughter that carried us straight into stories, poetry, novels, and exquisite conversation.<\/p>\n

The day I called him and we didn\u2019t laugh, I knew Abdullah was bidding the world goodbye. Death had sunk its claws into his throat\u2014the very place where his laughter was born, where the springs of his joyous chuckles gushed. What a cruel disease, to strike only the part of him that gave his life its deepest human meaning: the essence of who he was and the balm for every wound he carried.<\/p>\n

2<\/strong>
\nA face of light has vanished. A towering figure in poetry and diplomacy has left us. A noble soul has passed on\u2014a man who gave words their soul, values their shadow, and his country a melody of loyalty.<\/p>\n

Abdullah Al-Azraq is gone: the poet, the writer, the diplomat. A diplomat whose laughter echoed with wisdom, who walked in Sudan\u2019s footsteps like letters following meaning. A man of generosity and honor, whose words were always true and beautiful.<\/p>\n

Al-Azraq\u2014(do I really say \u201cwas\u201d? Woe to me\u2026)\u2014was as multifaceted as the hues of a sunset sky. A poet weaving light into meaning, a literary craftsman handling language with the finesse of a sage. His presence lit up every gathering. In his absence now, sorrow lingers in the corners of hearts that loved him and drank deeply from his nobility.<\/p>\n

He was unforgettable: noble-hearted, tender-spirited, principled, loyal in friendship, and authentic in every word and deed.<\/p>\n

3<\/strong>
\nIf you seek to know Abdullah Al-Azraq the diplomat\u2014the elegant, courageous, sharp diplomat\u2014read the reflections of his companions: Dardiri Mohamed Ahmed, his friend Muawiya Al-Toum, and his colleague Khalid Musa\u2014may God bless their pens. They knew him as a statesman who wore silence with grace and measured words with the scale of wisdom.<\/p>\n

4<\/strong>
\nTo explore the power of his poetry, read his masterful verses, or consult the great poet and critic Ibrahim Al-Qurashi, or listen to the esteemed poet Khalid Fathalrahman speak about the originality of his voice and the richness of his vocabulary. After all, he was a descendant of the Majadhib<\/em>\u2014and what a lineage that is! A people of faith, generosity, honor, piety, and poetry\u2014from Abdullah Al-Tayyib Al-Majzoub to Akir Al-Damer.<\/p>\n

Read his poem Kaabat Al-Madhyoom<\/em>:<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, how I long to spend a night under the boughs of dignity,
\nTo soothe my aching heart…
\nThey are a people proud as the morning,
\nTheir virtues surpassing all count…
\nTheir shade glows with pride and grace,
\nIlluminated by knowledge and wisdom\u2026\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Thirty-nine lines of classical Arabic verse in al-taweel<\/em> meter\u2014what a poem, what language, what a poet!<\/p>\n

5<\/strong>
\nIf you never knew him as a writer, look to his book “Managing Savagery”<\/em>, or dive into the archives of Al-Ahdath<\/em> newspaper, where his writing displayed rare brilliance and deep insight into global politics. Hundreds of articles reveal a writer of depth and wonder.<\/p>\n

I remember reading a single piece of his in the Sudanese press and seeking him out, hoping he would write for Al-Ahdath<\/em>. He agreed without hesitation, saying, \u201cI have only one condition: that the article be published exactly as written.\u201d I told him: \u201cThat\u2019s how we do it at Al-Ahdath<\/em>\u2014we never touch our writers\u2019 words.\u201d<\/p>\n

But now, allow me to tell you about Al-Azraq, the man.<\/p>\n

6<\/strong>
\nI met Abdullah Al-Azraq the smiling human over two decades ago. One evening, as I wandered Oxford Road\u2014my usual London pastime\u2014someone suddenly pulled me into a warm embrace, laughing. I was taken aback, having no idea who this cheerful man was. Sensing my confusion, he said, \u201cShame on you, being in London and not visiting one of your writers?\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked closer. The face matched the memory. \u201cYou\u2019re Ambassador Abdullah Al-Azraq!\u201d What a meeting. I told him: \u201cI have a story about embassies that I\u2019ll share with you someday.\u201d<\/p>\n

That story goes like this: Despite all my travels, I\u2019ve always avoided embassies and diplomats\u2014whether I know them or not. After a few visits to Sudanese embassies abroad, I found that when you greet them with courtesy, their eyes bulge with suspicion, fear takes over, and they assume you\u2019ve come to burden them with something. They greet you with the tips of their fingers, then vanish.<\/p>\n

Since then, I stopped visiting Sudanese embassies altogether. Of course, there are exceptions\u2014good people who welcome you and ease your loneliness\u2014but they are few.<\/p>\n

7<\/strong>
\nAfter that encounter on Oxford Road, Al-Azraq insisted on taking me home with him. Reluctantly, I went\u2014and regretted only that I hadn’t known this man earlier. That meeting sparked a friendship that lasted more than twenty years. Every time I visited London, I found his home alive with guests, poetry, stories, and joyful company.<\/p>\n

I still remember those evenings\u2014he would read poems not meant for the public, while we listened to stories from Al-Sadiq Al-Raziqi, Majid Abdel Bari, Abdelrahman Suleiman, and many others, all of them deeply cultured and refined.<\/p>\n

8<\/strong>
\nThe only time I visited him and wasn\u2019t greeted by his laughter was when he was in the hospital\u2014after his car fell from the Shambat Bridge. Behind our tears, we hid our laughter, imagining him making jokes about himself and others. And indeed, the moment he regained consciousness and saw us, he said: \u201cAre you here, or is this the afterlife?\u201d
\nWe laughed, and rejoiced, and knew he was well\u2014so long as he could still laugh.<\/p>\n

9<\/strong>
\nWhen he left the hospital, it was a day of great celebration. I\u2019d never seen so many people visit a recovering patient. They came by the dozens\u2014from neighbors, close friends, diplomats, to delegations from his Majzoub<\/em> family and from every faction and party.<\/p>\n

I imagined: had Abdullah Al-Azraq been buried in Khartoum, no road or cemetery could have held the crowds. But fate had it that he would be laid to rest far from the land he loved, the land he adored, where he wrote his finest poetry and lived his most beautiful days.<\/p>\n

10<\/strong>
\nWhen Al-Azraq used to write for Al-Ahdath<\/em>, he never accepted payment\u2014like many of our writers then, whose generosity flowed like water.<\/p>\n

Each month, he\u2019d instruct: \u201cPay so-and-so this month\u2014he\u2019s raising orphans. Pay that one\u2014he\u2019s burdened. Another\u2014his expenses are high. Our old uncle\u2014he\u2019s ill.\u201d He didn\u2019t stop there. He sent money to friends and colleagues, especially journalists, always checking on their welfare.<\/p>\n

11<\/strong>
\nIn London, he extended his hand even to opposition figures and strangers\u2014some of whom later attacked him. Still, he never complained, never responded. He\u2019d tell me: \u201cLet them. One day, the truth will be known.\u201d<\/p>\n

He endured much, for to speak would be to expose secrets of the state entrusted to him. So, he bore it all, waiting patiently for his reward\u2014on the Day the unseen will be revealed, and truths known.<\/p>\n

12<\/strong>
\nO you who dwell in the nation\u2019s memory\u2014how did you slip from our breath, leaving your final word suspended between the line and the tear?<\/p>\n

O you who departed in the silence of sages, nestled in the folds of poetry, now (God willing) wrapped in silk and brocade, resting on plush cushions beneath shaded groves and clustered banana trees\u2026<\/p>\n

Tell me\u2014O blue-eyed, white-hearted one, always laughing\u2014how were you tamed? And where is your smile now?<\/p>\n

Sleep peacefully, you who are now free of life\u2019s weariness. Rest amid your pages and your memory. Your name will live on the lips of all who knew you, laughed with you, and cherished your warmth.<\/p>\n

As long as the flag of poetry flutters, and as long as our Nile sings of noble souls\u2014your name will remain.<\/p>\n

May God have vast mercy on you, grant you Paradise and eternal peace, and bless your family and loved ones with patience and comfort.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

As I See\u00a0 By Adil El-Baz 1 How can memory laugh and cry at the same time? I\u2019ve been torn ever since I heard the heartbreaking news. I tried, in vain, to convince myself it was false\u2014because how could I ever write about Al-Azraq without laughing? And how can one laugh when their heart is …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":8232,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[19],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-51303","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-opinion"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/51303","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=51303"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/51303\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":51304,"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/51303\/revisions\/51304"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/8232"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=51303"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=51303"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sudanevents.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=51303"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}