Sudanese Quebecers wait in anguish after exclusion from program to rescue family members

Mayada Ageeb has been holding protests in downtown Montreal every two weeks, calling for Quebec and Canada to do more to rescue the families of Sudanese Canadians from a war that has been raging for nearly two years and which has displaced more than 12 million people. 

The situation in Sudan has been labelled the world’s worst humanitarian crisis by the African Union, and a resolution of the conflict appears a ways away.

Ageeb is one of a few hundred Sudanese Quebecers who have so far been excluded from a humanitarian pathway program to help direct family members escape to Canada. 

She is hoping to eventually sponsor her aunt, four cousins, an uncle, his wife and two children, as well as her grandmother. 

All are scattered throughout Sudan and neighbouring countries. Several have been displaced many times, including her aunt and four children who are currently on the move and hoping to reach Uganda.

Two of her cousins, 14 and 16, were recently badly beaten at a militia checkpoint after soldiers searched their phones and discovered documents they had prepared in the hopes of applying to come to Canada. 

“There’s really no words for it. It’s beyond frustrating, honestly,” Ageeb said. “There’s a heaviness to it because you realize that no one really cares.”

The temporary program was created in February 2024, accepting 3,250 applications for roughly 7,300 Sudanese family members, but it excluded Quebec. The provincial government opted out of the program, meaning Sudanese Quebecers could not apply. 

In the fall, the Sudanese Canadian Community Association, which Ageeb is a member of, says it was told by Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada (IRCC) that the program would reopen after it had closed in May when the application cap was reached. This time, it would accept applications from Quebec if applicants here promised to resettle their family members in other provinces. 

Ageeb says community members have so far been given three different dates for the program’s reopening, first in November, then January, then February, but it’s yet to happen.

The wait has been agonizing, Ageeb says. Each time a new date was announced via the association, her family scrambled to prepare their documents, which have been nearly impossible to obtain in the active war zone.

$10,000 per person

The federal program has also been criticized for its relatively small cap on applications, compared to other recent programs for refugees, such as those from Ukraine and Afghanistan. An estimated 300,000 Ukrainians have been able to settle in Canada since the war with Russia intensified in February 2022. In 2021, Canada said it would welcome up to 40,000 Afghan refugees after the Taliban swept power. 

The program for Sudanese families also requires $9,900 be set aside per person, in addition to processing fees of $635 per adult and $175 per child. 

“No other program asked for a financial guarantee,” said Mahmoud Abdelrahman, 36, who plans to sponsor five family members.

“You just feel like if I made Canada my home and I’ve been here for this long and I made Quebec my home, why is the government being so selective?” 

Abdelrahman has lived in Quebec for 17 years and done most of his higher education schooling in the province, including an MBA at Concordia University’s John Molson School of Business.

Every time the Sudanese Canadian Community Association has told members the program would reopen, Abdelrahman has conducted a “mock filing” of the application with his family. They’d make sure documents were in order and up to date — government IDs, biometrics, marriage certificates, translations. He says the process has been discouraging. 

Abdelrahman and his family happened to be in Egypt getting ready to celebrate Eid when the civil war broke out on April 15, 2023. He prolonged his stay by several months to help his parents stay in Egypt.

But all their belongings and identification documents stayed in their family home in Khartoum, Sudan’s capital, which has been broken into several times. His brother and his wife were able to make it to Qatar, while his sister went to Dubai where his other sister also lives, but already has Canadian citizenship.

Abdelrahman’s roommate, Mohamed Hamid, was also visiting family for Eid when the war broke out, except that he was in Khartoum as fighting erupted.

Fleeing a war’s outbreak

At first, it seemed the fighting between the Rapid Support Forces paramilitary and the Sudanese military would abate within days. But as entire neighbourhoods became occupied around them, Hamid and his family decided to flee. 

“The problem was the Rapid Support Forces were not acting like a military force,” said Hamid, a data scientist in Montreal. “They come inside neighbourhoods, take over houses. Even if you’re lucky that they don’t kick you out of your house, you’ll still have to live with them and constantly be harassed.”

Hamid and his parents managed to get bus tickets to Port Sudan after they were initially scammed. They faced several checkpoints along the way, with RSF soldiers attempting to extort passengers. Hamid was singled out for identification, but avoided trouble by showing his Canadian residency card. 

Once they got to Port Sudan, the city was overflowing with displaced people. Boats and flights were full. Tourist areas had been repurposed into makeshift refugee camps. Hamid’s family was lucky enough to have family nearby to stay with.

After two weeks, a relative’s police officer friend helped them buy tickets on a commercial boat. He and his parents made it to Saudi Arabia, where his mother works as a physician.

“Even if the war stops now, I don’t know what the threshold is for people to feel safe,” said Hamid, 32, who is waiting to apply to the Canadian program for his parents and 29-year-old sister.

‘Ridiculously low cap’

Khalid Medani, director of McGill University’s Institute of Islamic Studies and chair of African studies, believes systemic racial bias and the political climate in North America are contributing to the delays in Canada reopening the pathway program. 

“My feeling is also they’re just very cautious and frankly nervous about declarations of bringing in refugees,” said Medani, adding that it’s important to distinguish between a humanitarian pathway program and an immigration program, which is broader and doesn’t necessarily connect families. 

“This is a small program with a ridiculously low cap,” he said. “It has absolutely no effect in terms of local economies, housing, any of that — absolutely, none, nil.”

As of Feb. 2, 291 family members of the 3,250 Sudanese Canadian applicants had arrived in the country, according to IRCC spokesperson Julie Lafortune. 

Five hundred and eleven applications have been approved, representing 1,006 people. Lafortune would not confirm that the program would be reopening with the inclusion of Sudanese Quebecers. 

“We continue to process temporary and permanent residence applications already in our inventory for those affected by the conflict in Sudan in all streams,” Lafortune wrote in an email to CBC. 

It would not confirm whether it would be re-opening applications to the program.

“We cannot speculate on future policy decisions. Any new developments would be communicated publicly.”

The federal ministry has said the lengthy processing time is due in part to the fact that the program is a pathway to permanent residency.

Quebec’s Immigration Ministry says it decided not to participate in the Canadian program for Sudanese people because “Quebec already contributes significantly to the humanitarian effort in general, in particular by welcoming a large proportion of asylum seekers arriving in Canada.” 

From asylum to advocacy

Duha Elmardi is one of those asylum seekers. She crossed the Canada-U.S. border on foot at Roxham Road, south of Montreal, in 2018. 

Elmardi, who is also part of the Sudanese association, is now also hoping to bring her three siblings and parents to Canada. Her parents are still in Khartoum, though she helped evacuate her siblings from Sudan into nearby countries seven months into the war. 

“Everyone’s really scared. Everyone’s really tired. Everyone’s really capped out. People have had to come up with so much money in such a short time to do this,” Elmardi said.