the coup and the revolution, covering the work
of National Geographic Society grantees who
were excavating archaeological sites in the coun-
try’s north. My first reporting trip was during the
final paranoid months of Bashir’s rule, a time
marked by food and gas shortages, restricted
internet access, and multiplying military check-
points. Our expedition team had quietly mapped
out an escape route to the Egyptian border in
case Sudan plunged into chaos.
When the Bashir government toppled in the
spring of 2019, the images unspooling across
Twitter and Facebook were remarkable: A sea
of young men and women gathered in peaceful
defiance of the regime, demanding a different
world for their generation. One scene stood
out, repeated endlessly in a series of cell phone
photos and video clips: A young woman dressedin traditional white Sudanese dress stood atop
a car, her finger pointing to the dimming sky,chanting with the crowd: “My grandfather is
Taharqa, my grandmother is a kandaka!”
I was stunned. This wasn’t a chant support-ing a political group or social movement. The
protesters were declaring that they were the
descendants of the ancient Kushite king Taharqaand the Kushite queens and queen mothers
known collectively as kandakas. These royalancestors led a great empire that reigned from
northern Sudan and once stretched from what
is now Khartoum to the shores of the Mediter-ranean Sea.
SUDAN’S RECKONING 117