For decades, Sudan stood at the forefront of Arab rejectionism toward Israel. It was in Khartoum, after all, that the Arab League gathered in the aftermath of the Six-Day War in 1967 and issued the infamous “Three No’s”: no peace with Israel, no recognition of Israel and no negotiations with Israel. Yet hidden beneath that history lies a lesser-known story, one that is at once poignant, remarkable and deeply Jewish.
It is the story of Sudan’s forgotten Jewish community.
Though small in number, the Jews of Sudan built a vibrant and tightly knit community along the banks of the Nile—one that flourished for decades before vanishing almost entirely amid the turbulence of Arab nationalism, antisemitism and war. Today, scattered descendants of Sudanese Jewry reside in Israel, Britain, Switzerland and the United States, carrying with them memories of a lost world that once thrived in the heart of northeast Africa.
The origins of Jewish life in Sudan date back to the late 19th century, when a handful of Sephardic families from Egypt, Iraq, Syria and Yemen settled in the cities of Omdurman and Khartoum during the Anglo-Egyptian period. Many were merchants and traders drawn by economic opportunity as British colonial rule transformed Sudan into a commercial hub.
Among the earliest and most prominent families were the Coshtis, Gaons, Malkas and Shua families, whose names would become woven into the fabric of Sudanese Jewish history. The community itself was strikingly cosmopolitan. Jews spoke Arabic, English and Ladino or Judeo-Arabic, and maintained close ties with Jewish communities across the Middle East. Though deeply rooted in Jewish tradition, they were also proud participants in Sudanese society.
By the 1930s and 1940s, the Jewish population of Sudan had grown to roughly 250 families, around 800 to 1,000 people. Most lived in Khartoum, Khartoum North and Omdurman, with smaller numbers in Wad Madani and Port Sudan.
At the center of communal life stood the synagogue on Victoria Street in Khartoum—inaugurated in 1926, and later named Ohel Shlomo in honor of Rabbi Shlomo Malka, the community’s revered spiritual leader. The synagogue was far more than just a place of worship. It served as the beating heart of Sudanese Jewish life, hosting weddings, holiday celebrations, Torah classes and communal gatherings. Nearby stood the Jewish social club, which featured a kosher cafeteria and functioned as the community’s social nucleus.
Religious observance was maintained with remarkable devotion despite the community’s small size. Sudanese Jews had a mohel (“circumcisor”), a shochet (“ritual slaughters”) and two mikvahs (“ritual bath”), one located in the synagogue itself and another in the rabbi’s home. Jewish children generally attended English-language schools during the week, and received Hebrew and religious instruction through the synagogue. Shabbat and the festivals were observed meticulously, with families gathering around richly laden tables that reflected the community’s blend of Middle Eastern and North African traditions.
In many respects, Jewish life in Sudan resembled that of other Sephardic communities across the Arab world: warm, family-centered and steeped in tradition. But Sudanese Jewry also possessed its own flavor. Weddings became grand communal affairs stretching late into the night, accompanied by Arabic music and Sephardic melodies. Jewish merchants prospered in the textile, gum arabic and import-export trades, and many developed cordial relations with their Muslim and Christian neighbors.
‘A unique melting pot of Middle Eastern Jewry’
One particularly notable son of Sudanese Jewry was Nessim Gaon, born in Khartoum in 1922 to a Sephardic family of Iraqi-Turkish origin. Gaon would later become an internationally prominent financier and philanthropist, eventually serving as president of the World Sephardi Federation and a leading figure in global Jewish affairs. Yet despite his later success abroad, Sudan remained deeply embedded in his memory.
Another story is that of the Eleini family, whose experiences encapsulate both the beauty and tragedy of Jewish life in Sudan. In interviews conducted decades later, Flore Eleini recalled the serenity of Jewish life in Khartoum during her youth: afternoons spent with family, elegant gatherings and a strong sense of belonging. But amid virulent Arab opposition to the establishment of the State of Israel, everything began to unravel.
“Life was normal, life was good,” she recalled. “And then, little by little, it deteriorated.”
Sudan’s independence in 1956 marked a turning point. Influenced by the rise of Egyptian president Gamal Abdel Nasser and the spread of pan-Arab nationalism, antisemitism began to intensify. Jewish businesses faced increasing hostility, anti-Israel rhetoric appeared in newspapers, and Jews were accused of dual loyalty and Zionist sympathies.
The situation worsened dramatically after the Six-Day War in June 1967. Anti-Jewish mobs took to the streets shouting “Kill the Jews,” while Jewish homes were raided and prominent members of the community were arrested. Fear gripped the community. Many fled with little more than the clothes on their backs.
Families escaped quietly through Greece or Europe, eventually resettling in Israel, Britain, Switzerland and the United States. By the early 1970s, virtually no Jews remained in Sudan.
In 1986, the handful of remaining community members sold the Ohel Shlomo Synagogue to a commercial bank; the building was subsequently converted for banking use and later replaced. Much of the community’s archives and movable property, including Torah scrolls, which were relocated to Israel, the United States and Geneva, was preserved or transferred abroad, but the physical site of Jewish life in central Khartoum effectively vanished.
And yet, despite the trauma of exile, Sudanese Jews never entirely lost their affection for the land they once called home.
Indeed, many former Sudanese Jews continue to speak nostalgically of Sudanese hospitality, the beauty of Khartoum and the warmth of everyday life before politics poisoned relations. Daisy Abboudi, a descendant of Sudanese Jews who has worked extensively to preserve the community’s memory through oral histories and archival projects, has described Sudanese Jewry as “a unique melting pot of Middle Eastern Jewry.”
In recent years, Sudan unexpectedly re-entered the Israeli consciousness when Khartoum agreed in 2020 to move toward normalizing relations with Israel as part of the Abraham Accords process. The announcement stunned many observers, given Sudan’s long history of hostility toward the Jewish state.
But Sudan’s descent into civil war in April 2023 cast a dark shadow over those hopes. Fierce fighting between the Sudanese Armed Forces and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces has devastated Khartoum and large swaths of the country, killing thousands, displacing millions and plunging Sudan into one of the world’s worst humanitarian crises. The chaos effectively froze the normalization process with Israel, as Sudan’s fractured leadership turned inward and struggled just to maintain control.
At the same time, Sudan’s turmoil underscores both the fragility and the importance of the 2020 Abraham Accords, to which it was an original signee.
Still, the accords were never merely about diplomatic ceremonies or economic cooperation; they represent an effort to reshape the Middle East by replacing decades of rejectionism with pragmatism and coexistence. Sudan’s willingness, however tentative, to move toward Israel marked a stunning repudiation of the “Three No’s” proclaimed in Khartoum in 1967. Whether that transformation can ultimately survive Sudan’s current upheaval remains unclear.
