Recently, UAE-based Sudanese model Nwara Yahya took to Instagram to encourage Sudanese people to speak in the Sudanese dialect when communicating with other Arabic speakers, noting that the more it is spoken, the more widely understood it becomes. In the caption of her video post, she wrote: “People, we speak our dialect so that it remains familiar and understandable. Our dialect is clear, but we want people to get used to it, and for people to get used to it, we must speak it. Speak in the Sudanese dialect, not other dialects.”
In her impactful video, which gained over 21,000 likes, many Arabs left comments agreeing with her message and affirming that the Sudanese dialect is understandable. Her words resonated with me as someone who grew up away from Sudan, among people of many nationalities, and alongside Sudanese who choose to speak in different ways. Some speak only in the Sudanese dialect, others in different Arabic dialects, some do not speak Arabic at all, and some, like me, speak both the Sudanese dialect and English.
For those who grew up outside Sudan, the Sudanese dialect may not be familiar enough, leading them to adopt other Arabic dialects they understand better. This is one of the reasons why 500WM launched the Sudanese Dialect Guide: to familiarise and educate Sudanese audiences and others interested in Sudan about the richness and nuances of the Sudanese dialect.
Firstly, and although it may seem like general knowledge، it is important to state that Sudanese, or Sudani as we say, is not a language. It is a dialect, one of the many dialects of the Arabic language. Arabic is the official language of Sudan, but it is not the only spoken or written language in the country. Sudan is a multilingual nation, with more than 100 indigenous languages also in use. However, Arabic remains the most widely spoken language, and in Sudan it exists in a distinct and recognisable form known as the Sudanese dialect.
Sudanese people who speak Arabic often switch between different dialects, accommodating other Arab varieties for various reasons. The two main reasons are the belief that the Sudanese dialect is difficult for other Arabs to understand, and the desire to be more readily accepted or understood in broader Arab spaces.
Before addressing the latter, it is worth first asking: is the Sudanese dialect actually difficult? That very question was recently posed by a world geography page called SNKBARY, which asked, “Is the Sudanese dialect hard?” and presented common Arabic words alongside their Sudanese equivalents. Coincidentally, the post appeared during the same week as Yahya’s message.
The Sudanese dialect is not difficult or uniquely different among Arabic dialects. In fact, it is similar to Arabic dialects spoken in other countries such as Egypt and Saudi Arabia. It may be unfamiliar to many Arabs due to the lack of public representation in television shows, films, and news media. By contrast, other Arabic dialects, such as Egyptian, Lebanese, Syrian, and even Gulf or Khaleeji dialects like Kuwaiti and Saudi, are widely familiar because of their strong presence in TV and media.
This is slowly changing. Sudanese storytelling and representation have increased rapidly in recent years, from Sudanese films reaching international stages at film festivals, cinemas, and even Netflix, to Sudanese journalists and presenters taking centre stage on leading news platforms, to the rising number of Sudanese content creators on social media, and the growing popularity of Sudanese music, especially rap, hip hop, and Afrobeats.
However, there are still many instances where Sudanese code-switch, which is the act of altering one’s linguistic style (eg, accent, vocabulary, or grammar) and other social behaviours to fit into a dominant culture. One of the most common examples of code-switching is in the US, where Black Americans, whose speech is academically known as African American Vernacular English (AAVE), have stated that they sometimes alter their speech, behaviour, or appearance to navigate predominantly white environments, often for professional or social success. This is largely a survival and success mechanism in a world marked by systemic racism and linguistic discrimination. Many Black people report feeling the need to change how they talk around people of other races to avoid negative stereotypes or professional penalties.
Similar to Black Americans in white-centric environments, Sudanese people have long engaged in code-switching in Arab-centric spaces to avoid negative stereotypes or social and professional penalties. I personally, and shamefully, did so myself, especially as a child, mainly to avoid the negative stereotypes other Arabs attached to the Sudanese dialect. Even when I am not attempting to code-switch, or doing so intentionally, I still hear comments such as, “You don’t sound Sudanese,” or, “You don’t speak Sudanese.” Often, this stems from people’s own stereotypes of what the Sudanese dialect is supposed to sound like. At the same time, such comments can make some Sudanese feel a sense of pride for having successfully code-switched and, as a result, for what they believe is a more positively received portrayal of the Sudanese dialect.
Like many Sudanese who grew up in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) region, I experienced bullying simply for being Sudanese, from the colour of our skin to our speech. To some, something about where we are from was always considered worthy of discrimination. Throughout history, Sudanese have often not been seen as Arab, or seen as “not Arab enough.” As a result, I grew up feeling the need to suppress aspects of my identity to avoid discrimination, negative stereotypes, or even to constantly correct them. While this is not about identity – our Arabism or Africanism – or the racism we face, it is about language, though language cannot be separated from identity.
For many years, the Sudanese dialect has been a source of mockery in the Arab world. One of the simplest and most telling examples is the phrase “ya zoul,” one of the most recognisable and symbolic Sudanese expressions, which has been tarnished by its misuse by some Arabs to belittle and ridicule Sudanese people. This mockery, often presented as comedy, is evident in Arab media, often in explicit and highly public ways, such as in television shows and series, particularly during Ramadan. Whether Egyptian, Kuwaiti, or Saudi, actors and actresses have appeared in comedy shows – many produced by MBC – portraying Sudanese characters by exaggerating and ridiculing the dialect. In some cases, this has gone as far as the use of blackface, a clear act of racism. On many occasions, Sudanese audiences have expressed offence and publicly condemned both the actors and the programmes involved. Rarely, however, are public apologies made, and even more rarely, and alarmingly, are these portrayals not repeated.
Beyond the discrimination, it is time – and long overdue – for us to hold on to every aspect that makes us Sudanese, especially our dialect. The world is becoming more familiar with Sudan, and with Sudanese identity and culture. Fewer people are mocking it, and more are celebrating it. This is how we fight the discrimination and mockery of what makes us who we are: by celebrating everything Sudanese, and by speaking in our dialect, allowing others to adapt to us, not the other way around.
Ola Diab is the new founder and editor of 500 Words Magazine, and the deputy editor of Marhaba Information Guide, Qatar’s premier information guide. Based in Qatar, the Sudanese journalist graduated from Northwestern University in Qatar (NU-Q) in 2012 with a Bachelor of Science in Journalism and has since built a successful career in the print and digital media industry in Qatar. Find her on X (formerly Twitter) @therealoladiab or on LinkedIn.
