Othman points to an open gray gate at the edge of a dusty sidewalk. Above, a faded tarpaulin reads "Tirusina Masjid," "Tirusina Mosque." "This is where I sleep every morning. I arrive at 5 am and a little before noon, I return to the street." This 22-year-old Sudanese man arrived in Addis Ababa six months ago.

"I didn't really choose Ethiopia. I left urgently because the Sudanese army was looking for me. Soldiers came to my parents' house several times to take me away, but each time I wasn't there. But my father told me, 'It's too dangerous for you and for us. Leave the country and don't come back.' A few days later, I was in the Asosa Ethiopian refugee camp."

Like Othman, over the past two years since the start of the war in Sudan between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF), more than 4 million people have left the country, according to the UN. This represents "the most serious displacement crisis in the world," Eujin Byun, spokesperson for the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), said on June 3. According to the organization, just over 163,000 people, including 73,000 Sudanese, have fled to Ethiopia.

People wishing to apply for asylum "must register at the designated registration points" run by the UNHCR and the Ethiopian government's Refugee and Returnee Service (RRS), Tarik Argaz, UNHCR's communications officer in Ethiopia, explained. These are located along the border, in Metemma in the Amhara region, or in Kurmuk in the Benishangul Gumuz district, western Ethiopia. While waiting to obtain refugee status, migrants wait in the camps around Ura and Aftit, where they can receive shelter, food, and medical care.

But not everyone wants to live in the camps designated for them. In the Amhara region, the conflict between the Fano (regional militia) and the federal army is impacting refugees and asylum seekers, who find themselves at the heart of new violence. According to Human Rights Watch, in 2024, camps were attacked by "bandits and militias." These engage in "murders, beatings, looting, kidnappings for ransom, and forced labor." Many refugees therefore prefer to leave these places for safer urban areas.

'I ended up homeless'

Othman, a registered refugee, left his camp near Asosa after five months because he "could no longer bear the wait or the days spent indoors in a tent in the heat." Amjad, his friend, also decided to go to Addis Ababa. Originally from Khartoum, where he worked as a designer, this slender 25-year-old "tried" to register in the Ura camp. "I was told to wait, but it took days. So I changed my mind and came to the capital on a tourist visa. I thought I could work, earn some money, and do my paperwork here. But I ended up on the streets."

"Currently, no registration is possible in Addis Ababa for Sudanese refugees," Tarik Argaz, a worker for the UNHCR, told InfoMigrants. This situation is "illegal under international law. We cannot prevent people from submitting their asylum applications," an Ethiopian lawyer specializing in migration issues, who wishes to remain anonymous, stressed.

Lacking money to renew his tourist visa, Amjad found himself undocumented. "I could return to Asosa to complete the process in the camp, but I don't have the money for this trip. The only solution here would be to get a new visa. But even then, I can't afford it financially," he said, rolling up his sleeve over the protruding bone in his wrist. "In Sudan, I only have my older brother left, the only surviving member of my family, and he can't send me any money. I'm in a bind."

Until last fall, Sudanese migrants could live outside the camps without a visa, thanks to a government decision to that effect, taken at the start of the war in Sudan. But since October 2024, this exemption has been suspended. Individuals—not recognized as refugees—who wish to live outside the camps must now pay a $100 visa fee, which must be renewed monthly. A $10 fine is also deducted daily for those whose permits have expired.

This situation is impossible for the vast majority of migrants, and one that has plunged Wegdan into economic hardship and anxiety. She had begun the process of family reunification while still in Sudan. With French authorities, the young woman was forced to come to Addis Ababa to continue the process, as the French embassy in Sudan had been relocated to the Ethiopian capital due to the war. Upon arriving in Ethiopia, Wegdan didn't register as a refugee in the camps, expecting to stay only a few months in Ethiopia before joining her husband, who had taken refuge in France.

But a few months ago, her application was rejected. She appealed to the Nantes administrative court. In the meantime, Wegdan is accumulating debt. Now, she owes 5,320 US dollars (4,600 euros) to the Ethiopian immigration services. "I can't pay this back, but how can I explain it to them? I only speak Arabic and I have no one to help me," she lamented, tearing up. "My only hope is to one day join my husband. But this wait is unbearable. I just want to have a normal life away from war and loneliness. That's all."

'I regret leaving'

Despite an Ethiopian law enacted in 2019 that allows him to work and open a bank account, Othman has been unable to find a job. Today, he shares Wegdan's dream: "I definitely want to leave here. Why not build my life in Europe or Canada? I would also have liked to return to Russia."

In 2023, Othman obtained a student visa for Russia. He stayed there for a few months before attempting to enter the European Union via Poland. He was arrested in the forest by Belarusian border guards, who "set fire to the hut where they had locked him up.” The young Sudanese man spent several months in the hospital treating his injuries. He was finally deported to Sudan, just before the start of the war.

"In the absence of adequate support systems in Sudan's neighboring countries, some refugees are forced to continue their exile elsewhere, including Libya and Europe," the UNHCR wrote in a statement. "During the first two months of 2025, arrivals to Europe increased by 38 percent compared to the previous year."

Amjad, for his part, struggles to see the future. "When I see my situation here, I regret having left," he said. "But the war is preventing me from returning. Last month, one of my brothers died. All I wanted was to find a stable place where I could work and make a life for myself. But ultimately, I depend entirely on the generosity of people, who pay for a meal, a coffee, sometimes a night in a hotel. I'm going crazy."