Anxiety in the north as Sudan splits

Armina Yakub was born in Khartoum and raised her children there, but when they finish their exams, she will join a mass migration and return with them to their newly independent ancestral homeland. "I am leaving for the south. All my relatives have already left," the 32-year-old told AFP as she shopped in the market of Mayo, a Khartoum suburb, after asking warily if the inquirer was a government official. Yakub's anxiety is shared by many southerners remaining in the north after south Sudan gains full independence on Saturday. Since October, 360,000 southerners have already returned, according to the UN refugee agency (UNHCR), many of them motivated by the simple desire to participate in the historic birth of their nation. More than one million remain in the north, but some hostile signals from the Khartoum government have raised fears about their future status -- including their right to work and own property -- which has accelerated the exodus in recent weeks. "There have been a number of unfortunate messages, some very unpleasant messages, here in the north," said UNHCR Sudan representative Peter de Clercq. "There have also been reassuring messages. But unfortunately what people are sticking with are these bad messages. They would like to have concrete assurances, and that no one can give them," he added. In a sign of the perceived threat to those staying in Khartoum, the labour ministry sent termination notices to all southern civil servants in the north, effective from July 8. The government has ruled out the possibility of dual nationality, which effectively means southerners in the north will be stripped of their Sudanese citizenship when a transitional period expires in nine months. "If people are currently in their houses and if an organised return can be set up, there's no need for them to sit on top of their luggage in a railway station or a river port. This is what we have seen," de Clercq said. "The number of these people who are living out in the open keeps rising because of these unclear and unfortunate messages." In the still-bustling suburb of Mayo, a traditionally south Sudanese neighbourhood around 20 kilometres (12 miles) south of central Khartoum, many southerners have already gone. One market trader complains that business is down by 90 percent. Mayo was originally a camp for people displaced by the civil war between north and south, before the southerners settled permanently. But there is a large Darfuri population too, and locals from Khartoum also rub shoulders in the market, some of whom seemed genuinely pleased for their southern friends and neighbours. "I am happy about the independence of the south, because it was the choice of the southerners," said Yussif Harun, 47, a labourer. "I don't care that we are losing the south. But I do believe that one day the country will reunite," he added. Many of those left behind are simply trying to gather the money they need before heading south. "I am very happy about the split," said Morris, 34, who came to the north in 1989, at the height of the 22-year civil war, which left the south in ruins and some two million people dead. "All my family have left. I'm just waiting to collect money from different people and then I will go," said the rickshaw driver. But not everyone staying in Mayo shares in the euphoria of the south's imminent secession. Nariman John, a tea lady, has lived all her life in Khartoum and married a northerner, even though her mother was from the central Nuba mountains region and her father from the south. "I am sad that the south will split. The northerners are my people, but I wish Sudan would remain united," said the mother of three. "My five brothers will also stay in the north. We are all sad about the separation. We are going to lose a part of our body," she added.