A Sudanese journalist in exile, Zeinab Mohammed Salih provides on-the-ground reporting of Sudan's most recent civil war is providing rare, independent documentation of one of the world's deadliest and least reported-on humanitarian crises. Salih, winner of the 2026 ICFJ Knight International Journalism Award, recorded these remarks for the Nov. 10 ICFJ Awards Dinner at the Ronald Reagan Building in Washington, DC. 

The transcript below has been edited slightly for clarity.

Good evening, and thank you for this award.

I come from Sudan, a country whose story is too often told through the eyes of outsiders.

Much of the international coverage focuses on the calculations of foreign governments, geopolitical rivalries and intelligence assessments.

These things matter. But they are not the whole story.

What about the families forced from their homes? The communities that have endured massacres? The people trapped in besieged cities, struggling to find food, water and safety?

One of the reasons I stayed in Khartoum when the war began was my belief that Sudanese voices had to be at the center of the story about their own country.

To understand what's happening in Sudan, you have to listen to Sudanese people themselves. You have to travel to their communities, hear their stories and understand what the war means to those living through it.

That's what I have tried to do.

But I have never done this work alone.

Across Sudan, ordinary people have opened their homes to me. They have fed me, sheltered me and protected me, often when they themselves had very little left.

I cannot name them tonight or identify the places where they sheltered me. Some are still living under the control of armed groups that could harm them if their identities became known.

But I want them to know that I have not forgotten them. I also want to thank my family, especially my mother.

Sometimes, she would go to the market to buy groceries and come home with a story. She would contact her friends when she thought they had something important to tell the world.

In the middle of a war, my mother was helping me do journalism.

She was also protecting me. I will always be grateful to her.
  
Recently, I returned to Darfur expecting to stay for three days. I ended up staying for nearly two months. I did not know if my stories would ever be published.

But to tell the story of Darfur, with its complex history of mass violence and genocide, you have to go. You have to listen. And sometimes, you have to stay much longer than you expected.

I am also working with a literary agent in London on a book about this war, told through the lives of the people living through it.

At its heart is Saad, a remarkable taxi driver who has helped people to find their way to safety in Darfur, including during the massacres in Geneina. I would welcome speaking to anyone who might help this story reach a wider audience.

I am fortunate that editors and colleagues have believed in my work and helped me to make it possible.

I want to thank Isma'il Kushkush, the Sudanese American journalist who nominated me for this award, and Roman Deckert of the MiCT.

I am grateful to Mark Townsend, a senior journalist at The Guardian, and to Farouk Chothia, my former BBC editor.

My thanks also go to David Pilling, the Financial Times’ Africa editor, and to Toby Harward, formerly of the U.N. humanitarian coordination office.

I am deeply grateful to my editors at The Guardian, particularly Tracy and Alex on the foreign desk.

I dedicate this award to the people whose names I cannot say, whose homes I cannot identify, but whose kindness and courage I will never forget.

I dedicate it to my mother, who helped me to find stories while we were both living through the war.

And I dedicate it to the people of Sudan, who deserve to have their voices heard, their experiences documented and their lives remembered.

I hope this award will help keep Sudan in the world’s attention.

Because when the headlines fade, when the cameras leave and when the world turns its attention elsewhere, the people of Sudan are still there.

Their lives do not stop when the news cycle moves on.

And their stories still need to be told.

Thank you.