Biographical
A friend sent a link to our group chat at midnight on the last day of 2025. I joined along with everyone else. Mahmoud was there. it had been a long time since we were all in one place, even if it was virtual. the call lasted three hours. we caught up, we laughed, we updated each other on life in the casual way people do when they pretend time has not passed.
I have had a unique friendship with someone who, on the surface, could not be more different from me. his name is Mahmoud. when I first met him at the university of Khartoum, I was almost certain that we would never become close. not because of conflict, not because of incompatibility in values, but because he represented something I was instinctively afraid of.
About This Series
This story is about the gentle collapse of Wren, and I’m watching it all from a distance.
Wren is someone I’ve known for a few years now. the kind of person who doesn’t take up much space in a room. he’s older than me, a little more worn, a little more faithful, not just to God, but to the version of himself he’s been holding onto since long before I met him.
Recently, I was in a meeting, and after the official hours ended, members usually stayed to catch up and chat a bit. one girl came up with a random question. It was something like: what is something a stranger has told you that stuck with you? It wasn’t too long until that moment that I realized I actually had one.
Today, I spent five hours talking to Awab.
It wasn’t planned. no intention, no emotional preparation. he texted me casually saying: “VC in 2–3 hours?” the kind of message you expect to lead to small updates and shallow catching up as we usually do. Instead,it became one of the most profound conversations I’ve ever had.
I remember coming back to Sudan from Saudi Arabia when Abd Alwahab told me he had secured a scholarship in India and might travel to pursue it. After a lifelong friendship, growing up in the same district our entire lives, the time had finally come for him to leave for his undergraduate degree. I don’t recall thinking deeply about it at first, because it seemed that he hadn’t fully made up his mind yet. When I returned to Sudan, I got busy with university, and suddenly things became real on his side.
Last selife