How My Digital Agency Survived the War

The first bomb shook my bedroom at 9:17 am, ripping through Khartoum’s sky like an uninvited storm. Anti-aircraft fire drummed its deadly beat nearby, its intensity rattling the walls, my bones, and the quiet of a Ramadan morning. We’d expected the war to come—knew it would—but somehow, that first explosion still caught me unprepared. This wasn’t another protest, another coup, another state-controlled blackout. This was the war.

Running a digital marketing agency has its fair share of challenges. Managing client campaigns, hitting KPIs, keeping the lights on—these are all familiar battles. But in Sudan, we play on a board that’s rigged. Blackouts and internet cuts have been part of the job since the start. We’ve dealt with it all: protests, military takeovers, and months of economic strain. Yet nothing prepared us for April 15, 2023, when “business resilience” took on a new meaning.

In an instant, Cush Digital was fighting a war on two fronts: the literal, relentless war raging outside our office, and the war to keep the agency—and our people—alive.

Day One: The First Contingency Plan

I leapt out of bed and woke my wife. I told her, “It’s started. Wake up.” By then, Khartoum’s streets were chaos. Cars hurtled in every direction, pedestrians running as if the ground itself might give way beneath them. With each step, my mind sprinted through the protocols we’d set up. Cush Digital had planned for this for over a year—since 2021, when rumors of potential conflicts began surfacing. Our contingency plan was straightforward on paper: relocate to Egypt if things got too dangerous. But as I watched buildings sway with the force of artillery, I knew this would be anything but straightforward.

My first instinct was to gather our people. We had a core team in Khartoum and a few others already stationed in Egypt, thanks to the foresight of our decision to open an office in Aswan. Egypt wasn’t our ideal location for expansion, but its proximity to the Sudanese border and its relative safety made it our best fallback. When the first bomb fell, that decision became the lifeline we’d need to cling to.

In the early hours, I made frantic calls to the team, telling them to stay put if they could, to come to the office if they couldn’t. “Stay alive. That’s all that matters,” I kept repeating. But staying alive in war-torn Khartoum was a gamble.

Day Two and Three: The Costs of Staying Connected

By Day Two, the office had become a safe house. As colleagues and their families poured in, the realities of war set in. Our office had one essential commodity that almost no other place in Khartoum did: power. We had installed solar panels months before, along with battery backups. Electricity had become unreliable in recent months, so we’d invested in autonomy. Those panels weren’t just a smart business decision—they became our fortress. The office wasn’t just a workplace anymore; it was a refuge, a place to strategize and regroup.

Remarkably, the internet was still active. This baffled me until I realized why: this wasn’t an oversight by authorities. The internet was left running as a tool for propaganda, a way to shape perceptions. Information warfare was just as strategic as any military operation, and as the RSF and Sudanese Army clashed, both were battling for control not only of the land but of the narrative. Understanding how digital marketing influences consumer behavior became critical in a conflict where perception often trumps reality.

I tried to maintain a semblance of work for our clients. Campaigns were still running, though whether they’d reach the intended audiences was anyone’s guess. Communication became both harder and more critical. Every call felt like a farewell. “Just hold on, stay low, don’t go near windows,” I would tell them. My goal was to hold Cush Digital together through the chaos, even if we were hanging by a thread.

Day Four: “Plan B” Comes to Life

Four days into the war, it became clear that our backup plan—an evacuation plan we’d dubbed “Plan B”—needed activation. By now, our team was well aware of the stakes. But making the plan a reality was another ordeal altogether.

The team consisted of mostly young women, which, in Sudanese culture, posed a challenge I hadn’t anticipated. Unmarried women typically don’t travel without a male chaperone, and with families hesitant to send them away, many were reluctant to leave. Then there was another, starker reality: not everyone believed they needed to leave. It’s easy to underestimate a war when it hasn’t directly touched you, and many of our team members hadn’t yet experienced the terror I’d seen on Day One. My neighbors were still unwilling to leave, and others believed things might settle down in a few days. But in my gut, I knew: this war wasn’t ending tomorrow.

After difficult, sometimes heated conversations, we narrowed down a group willing to evacuate. Cars were secured for Thursday, two days away, and we set off in the early hours. But the journey out of Khartoum was a nightmare of its own.

Day Five to Seven: Evacuation Roadblocks and Trauma on the Road

War changes you in ways you can’t anticipate. I knew this logically, but nothing prepares you for how viscerally it happens. On the drive out of Khartoum, we encountered bodies and looted shops. In Omdurman, we passed soldiers, both Sudanese and RSF, who eyed us with that detached look I’ll never forget. Along the way, we had to dodge roadblocks and soldiers who demanded answers to questions I never wanted to answer.

Our route led us to Dongola, where we could stop briefly, rest, and plan the next leg of the journey to Wadi Halfa on the Sudanese-Egyptian border. By this point, we were exhausted and frayed. Each time we’d come close to a soldier, I’d feel a lurch in my stomach, hoping that this checkpoint would let us through. The mental strain of managing the convoy, checking in with each vehicle, and keeping spirits up left me drained in a way that felt like it would never heal.

The most searing moment was passing by the body of a dead soldier, left on the road with wild dogs gnawing at his remains. In that moment, I tried to explain to one of our youngest team members why the world felt so broken, but words failed me. This wasn’t something you could reason through, explain, or understand. It was war, the brutal end of all logic.

Day Eight: The Wadi Halfa Border and a Dose of Humanity

After what felt like an endless journey, we arrived in Wadi Halfa. At this border town, we encountered a bottleneck: Sudanese refugees flooding out, exhausted families crammed into every available space. The crossing itself was overburdened, ill-prepared to handle the sheer volume of humanity escaping the war. Even though we had documents, cars, and papers in order, bureaucracy slowed us down.

Then, for the first time in days, we encountered kindness. Egyptian locals greeted us, saying, “Welcome to Egypt. Our home is your home.” The warmth of their words melted the hard knot of survival instincts I’d been carrying. I felt a tear roll down my face—just one, in that brief, unguarded moment. War robs you of softness, and that small gesture felt like a balm. Moments like these reaffirm the broader impact of how digital marketing influences consumer behavior, even beyond borders and crises, reminding us of the strength of empathy and goodwill.

But reality set back in quickly. We were safe, yes, but at what cost? The team members who couldn’t join us still weighed on my mind. Our staff back in Khartoum, my friends and neighbors, were now part of the many left to navigate a country descending further into chaos.

Aftermath: Rebuilding Cush Digital, One Connection at a Time

Rebuilding a digital agency from scratch in a new country isn’t the standard “company growth story.” But here we were in Egypt, with nothing but the determination to keep Cush Digital alive. It started small: just a few laptops, a makeshift office, and an internet connection we prayed wouldn’t fail. We began again, scrapping for clients, using every contact, every ounce of goodwill, to keep the agency afloat.

My team, once only a few floors apart, now spanned cities and borders. We had lost equipment, clients, and stability. But we hadn’t lost each other. Each person who made it out brought with them a story of survival that will forever be a part of Cush Digital’s DNA. In those early days, the need to understand how digital marketing influences consumer behavior was crucial for our clients as well as our own resilience.

The scars of those weeks run deep. They mark us in ways that metrics or KPIs can’t capture. But they also remind us why we do this work: for the people, for the culture, and for the resilience that endures, no matter the odds.

As for Sudan, I can only hope it heals, though that healing may take a lifetime. War reminds you how fragile all of this is. Today, Cush Digital is here, in Egypt,