Colombians of the RSF in Darfur in 2026 — Private War Reaches El Fasher

In El Fasher, in northern Darfur, orders shouted in Spanish on a residential street are not an exotic detail. They signal an operational shift in the Sudanese war. The report published on May 25, 2026, by Human Rights Watch compiles geolocated videos, testimonies, and elements of U.S. sanctions to document the presence of Colombian military contractors alongside the Rapid Support Forces (RSF). The central fact is not just the nationality of these men. It is the type of expertise they bring to a force already accused of war crimes and crimes against humanity.

According to HRW, ten videos filmed or received in 2025 show Spanish-speaking private military personnel in El Fasher and in the Zamzam displaced persons camp, about ten kilometers south of the city. Some are directly participating in frontline combat with the RSF. Others appear in sequences related to drones, mortars, and training. The information remains partially incomplete regarding the exact chains of command, but the convergence of evidence is too clear to be treated as a war rumor.

The Bogotá-Dubai-Nyala Route

The route described by HRW and the U.S. Treasury starts in Colombia, passes through the United Arab Emirates, and ends in RSF-controlled areas of Sudan, notably Nyala and El Fasher. On December 9, 2025, the Office of Foreign Assets Control sanctioned a transnational network linked to A4SI, accused of recruiting former Colombian military personnel to serve the RSF. On April 17, 2026, Washington added five individuals and entities, including Fénix Human Resources, described as a replacement structure opened in February 2025.

The United Nations Security Council subsequently sanctioned, on April 28, 2026, Algoney Hamdan Daglo Musa, brother of RSF leader Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, as well as three Colombians accused of playing a role in recruitment. The sanctions do not alone prove the tactical configuration on the ground. But they provide a framework: the RSF are no longer just buying weapons or vehicles. They are buying experience.

On the ground, this difference matters. A local fighter can learn to pilot a commercial drone in a few weeks. Training a cell capable of coordinating reconnaissance, fire correction, casualty evacuation, and mortar action in a besieged city requires an experience that is more often found among former professional soldiers. This is precisely what Colombian veterans, who have gone through decades of counterinsurgency and irregular warfare, can offer.

El Fasher as a Laboratory for Armed Subcontracting

The siege of El Fasher began in May 2024 and ended with the RSF's capture of the city in October 2025. In between, pressure was exerted through artillery, drones, hunger, and the prohibition of humanitarian access. HRW reminds us that Zamzam hosted about 400,000 displaced persons before the RSF assault in April 2025. Survivor accounts describe continuous bombardments in the final days of the siege and attacks on markets, health infrastructure, and civilian areas.

In this context, the presence of contractors is not marginal. A video cited by HRW shows a contractor using a mortar in eastern El Fasher, with a timestamp of January 11, 2025. Other footage shows Spanish-speaking men carrying an injured person, withdrawing from a contact line, or crossing Zamzam after the camp's destruction. These are not advisors locked in an air-conditioned office in the rear.

Experience shows that a force lacking fire discipline but receiving external technical support becomes more dangerous for civilians, not necessarily more precise. Technology provides range, but not always restraint. In a city like El Fasher, with tight neighborhoods around the old mosque, markets, and improvised shelters, an improvement in fire capability can simply increase the density of violence.

The Drone Changes the Strategic Scale

The drone aspect is the most significant. HRW cites recruitment offers, interviews, and publications from contractors suggesting that Colombians with drone expertise have been sent to Sudan. Hemedti himself reportedly acknowledged, in a speech in February 2026, the support of Colombian technicians for the RSF. The details remain to be verified, but the signal is consistent with the general evolution of the Sudanese conflict.

ACAPS already warned on May 13 that the RSF had a strategic interest in striking Port Sudan and the Port Sudan-Kassala-Gedaref corridor, through which a large part of imports, fuel, and aid pass to areas controlled by the Sudanese army. Al Jazeera reported in early May Sudanese accusations against the United Arab Emirates and Ethiopia following drone attacks on Khartoum, Omdurman, and other states. Both countries deny supporting the RSF and regularly reject Sudanese accusations. But the operational pattern is visible: the war is spilling over from traditional front lines to airstrips, fuel depots, and logistical corridors.

For the RSF, the contribution of foreign pilots, instructors, and technicians helps to compensate for two weaknesses: specialized training and continuity. A drone is only useful if the unit knows how to maintain the batteries, read the image, transmit the target, and exploit the effect in the minutes that follow. It is less spectacular than a column of pick-ups, but it is more decisive in a war of attrition.

The UAE at the Center of the Issue

The politically most sensitive part concerns the United Arab Emirates. HRW claims that the GSSG, a security group based in the UAE, appears to have provided private military contractors to the RSF in significant numbers. The organization calls for investigations into possible legal liability of the company and potential state responsibility of Abu Dhabi. The UAE denies supporting the RSF and regularly rejects Sudanese accusations.

However, the stakes go beyond diplomatic squabbles. If a private company, based in a regional hub, can recruit former Latin American soldiers, train them or facilitate their transit, and then insert them into an African war marked by mass atrocities, then individual sanctions will remain insufficient. The problem is not just the mercenary. It is the ecosystem of transport, payment, visas, shell companies, and political tolerance that makes it available.

Sudan thus becomes a theater where three wars intersect: an internal war for the Sudanese state, a regional war for access to the Red Sea and gold, and a private war where military skills circulate as a commodity. The latter is often the least visible, but it alters the conduct of operations.

What This Forebodes

The next vulnerable area is not just El Fasher, which has already fallen. It is the logistical axes connecting Port Sudan to the rest of the country, the garrison towns where the Sudanese army is trying to rebuild its depots, and the displaced persons camps located near military positions. If the RSF consolidates a more regular drone capability, sporadic attacks could become a campaign of interdiction.

For the Sudanese forces, the response cannot be limited to shooting down a few drones. It is necessary to identify the operators, workshops, transit routes, and financial relays. For external actors, the question is more brutal: continuing to treat contractors as isolated adventurers amounts to ignoring the infrastructure that produces them. In El Fasher, the Spanish heard on the front line indicates that this infrastructure is already functioning.