Egypt opens its doors to the world’s refugees – but conditions for Sudanese refugees are worsening

Kasper Nissen has a Master’s degree in Political Science. Mayada Mohamedan is an anthropologist and an Academic Officer at the Centre for International Police Corporation within the Danish National Police.

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It’s morning in Cairo. A man moves through the streets of the gigantic city. Even though it’s Ramadan, the city is not quiet. Cars and scooters honk impatiently and zigzag around each other amid the usual chaos, while the sun slowly rises over the rooftops, promising another warm spring day.

Hassan is on his way to work at a school for Sudanese children who are not allowed to attend Egyptian schools because their residency status is still pending. Instead, they gather in temporary classrooms in areas such as Faisal in Cairo, now known as “Little Khartoum” – a reference to Sudan’s capital.

Like many others, he rose before dawn to eat before the fast began. His body is hungry and tired, but his thoughts are elsewhere: where he will be at the end of the day. Will he return home again today?

“It’s very difficult for us to go to work. As soon as I leave my job in the afternoon, I thank God that no one came and took me away during the day,” he tells us.

Hassan lives in Cairo with his mother and sister, who also managed to flee Sudan after the civil war broke out in April 2023. Hassan is a pseudonym, and all the sources in this article were granted anonymity for security reasons. Their identities are known to the editorial team.

Hassan’s fear stems from a new wave of arrests targeting Sudanese refugees in Egypt. When the school next to the one where Hassan works was raided, “every man ran away – but one stayed behind. And now he’s on his way back to Sudan.”

Although the school’s female employees avoided imprisonment and deportation, each received a fine of 20,000 Egyptian pounds (roughly $385). For Hassan and many others, that amounts to more than two months’ salary.

According to multiple Sudanese refugees, schools are increasingly becoming targets of police raids, which have become more frequent since the beginning of the year. During these raids, male Sudanese teachers in particular are being arrested and, in many cases, deported back to Sudan.

“They don’t look at our papers, our permits, or anything at all.”

Amal

The risk of arrest is not confined to schools, however. It also occurs in public spaces. Across Egypt, Sudanese refugees recount horror stories of fellow Sudanese being deported back to a homeland still ravaged by war – or, even worse, dying in Egyptian detention before they even get that far.

Valid papers do not guarantee safety

Hassan says that stories of deportations are spreading like wildfire through Sudanese communities. Amal, who also fled Sudan’s civil war, recognizes the pattern. According to her, the arrests are part of a deliberate campaign by the Egyptian authorities. She describes a police force that either does not understand the laws it is tasked with enforcing or chooses to ignore them.

“They don’t look at our papers, our permits, or anything at all,” she says.

Amal is involved in several organizations working on the rights of Sudanese refugees in Egypt. She is part of a network where the same stories keep recurring: more raids, more harassment, and less security. She believes that young boys and men are particularly vulnerable because they struggle to find work, even though they are expected to contribute financially to their families.

The case of the 67-year-old Sudanese man Mubarak Qamar Eddin, who died in Egyptian custody in February 2026. Mubarak was arrested on his way home from a bakery, despite being able to document a scheduled renewal of his residency permit with the UN refugee agency (UNHCR). After nine days in detention, he died because he did not receive adequate treatment for his diabetes and kidney failure. His death sparked significant outrage and unrest within the Sudanese community in Egypt.

The human rights organization Amnesty International has also documented increasing raids and detentions of refugees in Egypt, confirming the fear that many Sudanese refugees express.

Documentation creates a false sense of safety

Amira Ahmed, a migration researcher at the American University in Cairo, says that laws and policies change constantly.

“As recently as last summer, a new labor law was passed to limit the employment of non-Egyptians in the country and create job opportunities for Egyptians instead.”

Amira has Sudanese roots but was raised in Egypt. As a result, she is familiar with the uncertainty many Sudanese refugees experience – not only through her research, but also through her own personal experience.

“There’s not even a written copy of the legislation.”

Amal

“Refugees live and survive under different circumstances; people face different vulnerabilities, but they don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow. They don’t know whether they’ll still be here next week – nothing is guaranteed,” she says.

Frequent policy changes and a lack of clear guidance make it difficult for Sudanese refugees to understand how to remain on the right side of the law.

Amal feels the consequences directly. She describes how difficult it is to stay informed when laws change repeatedly and little information reaches the refugee community.

“There’s not even a written copy of the legislation,” she says.

For her and many other Sudanese refugees, this creates a fear of suddenly losing the right to remain in the country. Amal has tried to obtain information from the Sudanese embassy and other relevant institutions, but she has yet to receive a clear answer.

If Amal is stopped on the street, she has no guarantee that her documents will protect her. The only reassurance she has received is a message from the embassy stating that, as long as she holds a valid slip from the UNHCR, she cannot be arrested. Yet, as earlier examples show, this provides no real certainty.

UNHCR: Protector of refugees or a political instrument? 

For Amal, registration with the UNHCR no longer provides the sense of security it once did. The organization plays an important role in protecting refugees in Egypt, but it has also faced criticism over its cooperation with the Egyptian authorities.

“UNHCR and the Egyptian government have never been enemies. On the contrary, they have historically enjoyed close collaboration and shared interests,” says migration researcher Amira.

In a written statement, the UNHCR emphasized that it works to protect refugee rights and ensure fair procedures through established channels of communication with the Egyptian authorities.

“UNHCR has received reports from families of individuals who have been detained and has engaged with the authorities through established channels to advocate for due process and consideration of international protection needs. Our engagement focuses on ensuring that people who may be in need of protection are identified and that safeguards, including non-refoulement (the international legal principle that prohibits returning asylum seekers or refugees to a country where they would face threats to their life or freedom, persecution, torture, or other serious human rights abuses), are respected.”

“The whole situation has created a sense of not belonging.”

Hashim

The UNHCR’s dual role – as both a protector of refugees and a collaborator with the Egyptian government – creates a complicated situation. In practice, refugees often find themselves navigating a difficult landscape of bureaucracy, uncertainty, and limited opportunities, with the UNHCR representing both a potential source of protection and a possible constraint on their security.

An uncertain future

For Hassan, Amal, and many other Sudanese living in Egypt, the sense of insecurity grows with each passing day.

“Today is better than tomorrow, and yesterday was better than today,” Amira says, describing the worsening insecurity affecting refugees and migrants every day.

“The whole situation has created a sense of not belonging,” says Hashim, who has lived in Egypt since 2023.

For some, the uncertainty has become so severe that they are considering returning to Sudan, even though the war is still raging. Hassan is one of them.

“I’m considering going back to Sudan, if I’m being honest. I can’t work here, and I need to work,” he says.

Many before him have already returned despite the country’s devastated infrastructure, soaring inflation, and ongoing humanitarian crisis. As a result, many Sudanese face an impossible choice: remain in an unsafe situation, return to a homeland still at war, or continue onward into an even more uncertain future.