*It is not easy to write about the masters of creativity and beauty, yet there are words that must be said.*

What words could suffice for a man who made homelands of strings, and a pulse of the shilo that resembles a heart beating with love for Sudan?

O Ibrahim… O inspirer, O creator, O towering figure, O master of understanding; O son of Nyala, O you who came from Al-Wadi neighborhood, carrying in your soul the scent of the gardens, in your fingertips the warmth of ancient drums, and in the sound of your shilo the longing of the land as it calls its children.

You were not merely a musician; you were a researcher in the memory of heritage, digging deep into the Fur, listening to the pulse of Kordofan, writing of drums as though they were history being told, and of the accordion as though it were a guest who became one of the household.

You are the one who taught generations that music is ethics, that melody is a stance, and that art is a message delivered only with sincerity.

From "Umm Zimam" to "Qamar Arbatashar," from "The Epic of Heroism" to "Sword of Pride," you planted hope in people and instilled in them the pride of the nation.

And when we thought of serving creativity in our beloved city of Nyala, you were the first to support with everything: your money, your thought, your sleepless nights. You were the inspiring leader who waits for neither thanks nor praise.

Your appointment to head the Nyala and Sudan Creatives Forum was no coincidence; it was a merit befitting your stature, and an honest testimony that you are worthy of leadership and most deserving of carrying the banner of creativity.

You played alongside the greats, yet your presence was never subordinate to anyone. You were always an added value—a note without which the melody is incomplete.

O my friend… O you who carried Sudan in his heart even while in Baltimore, you never left the homeland, for the homeland dwells in your strings and in every melody that flows from your hands.

We ask God for your speedy recovery, that you may return as we knew you: a candle lighting the darkness of nights for others, a voice awakening hope in us whenever the light dims.

To you, my love befitting your stature, pride unbounded by distance, and the honor of having a friend named Ibrahim Sonata… whose soul is music.

— Hatim Siralkhatim Salim