Darfur emergency: the last truck drove away, taking all hope with it
Over 200,000 Sudanese have fled to Chad, where more misery awaits
By Inka Kovanen in Goungour, Chad
Sombre-looking men gather in a circle in the middle of the dusty desert, hardened by the sun. There are perhaps 100 of them. Those in the outer ring push to get closer to hear what those in the middle have to say. On the outer edges, furthest away, are the women, also trying to hear something.
The man in the centre is the chief. He holds an orange staff with a tuft of hair at one end.
"The organisation did not find any solution for us. They said that if we manage to get to the camp by foot, then we will be all right. If not, we will not; we will die", the Chief says.
It is the morning, and somewhere, far away from here, it is Saturday. Listening to the bad news are Sudanese refugees, black Muslims fleeing the violence in Darfur.
The trucks of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) have just left. They have taken refugees westward from the border between Sudan and Chad, away from the restless border region.
But now the word is that the trucks will not come back.
It is about five kilometres to the border. The exact location of the border is impossible to say, because it has not actually been marked in the desert.
On the other hand, the location of the border in this area is of little significance, because the residents on both sides are members of the same tribe, the Masalites.
Nevertheless, on one side of the border a cruel war is raging, in which Arab fighters supported by the Sudanese government have driven more than a million people from their homes, killing about 30,000.
Nobody knows the exact number of the dead. Depending on one’s point of view, an ethnic cleansing or a genocide is going on in the Darfur region - an area about the size of all of France. It is taking place far away from the gaze of the world, and the international community is not ready to stop it.
Chad hardly has enough money to take care of the refugees. Already 200,000 people have crossed the border, and more are coming every day.
The trucks came to Goungour, a small village on the Chad side of the border, at about seven in the morning on Saturday. The village is very small and has nothing to offer the refugees.
There were five trucks, which means that it was clear from the beginning that not everyone could get out.
The lucky ones have a card of the Sudan Refugee Agency and the UNHCR, proving that they have been registered, and that they are entitled to food aid of the World Food Programme (WFP), and to a place in the camp.
A young woman tenaciously pushes her card toward the Medicines sans Frontieres (MSF) nurse. She cannot get onto a truck. There are simply not enough of them.
"We will not go back there. Instead, we will begin transport from two or three other villages", says Sophie Villemaire.
"The previous transport was on Thursday. At that time I fought hard to get one more transport, but now they are at an end", Villemaire sighs.
The UNHCR is primarily responsible for refugee transport, but MSF is there to monitor the physical condition of the refugees.
"It is terrible to be here. People are dying of hunger. We have no food, and no card", says Adam Ibraham Abker, 45.
The surrounding desert could not be any more barren. It is only nine in the morning, but the heat is terrible. The extremely fine sand spreads everywhere, and the bushes that struggle out of the hot earth do not offer any shelter.
"I am only waiting for the day that I die. It would be better for me to die", says Halima Abdullah, a mother of ten who did not make it onto the transport. She is surrounded by her young children.
Another truck is ready to leave. Blue and white water canisters hang on the sides of the fully-packed vehicle, and fold-away-beds and tarpaulins are attached to the back. About 50 lucky ones are there.
Aisha Ahmad Mohammad does not conceal her joy. Behind her is a four-day journey to the border on the back of a donkey, followed by 11 days of waiting in the shade of a tree, with no other shelter.
But the wait was worth it. The trip to the new home - the Bredjing refugee camp - is beginning.
She has all of her five children with her. Only her husband is missing; he will have to make the 80-kilometre journey by foot with the family's goats, as they were not allowed onto the trucks.
But even that was something to smile about.
"They told us that everything is waiting for us at the camp. I only want food to eat. I am very happy."
In reality the camp is a bleak piece of land where there is not enough water or food for everyone, and where the only thing to do is wait.
But there, at least, nobody is dropping bombs on anyone’s home, and trying to kill them.
A man jerks at my sleeve and points behind him. There a young woman dressed in a yellow and purple scarf and dress carries a small child nodding in her lap. The curly-haired child hair is suspended by a towel on the woman’s waist.
Fatma Haron, 20, pushes the child’s hand closer. It is hardly any thicker than a few centimetres. Around the thin neck hang wooden amulets on leather strings. The child is seriously undernourished.
"We have nothing, no food, no goods. No card", Fatma Haron says. Sometimes they manage to beg something to eat, but the child is too tired. He can hardly hold his head up.
All of these people - mothers, children, men, older people - are staying here, in the middle of the desert, which is killing them with heat.
Those left behind in the desert stare in disbelief as the aid agencies which had come to help them disappear in a cloud of dust.
Hundreds of perplexed people can only wait. Some of them start walking toward the camp, but the trip is too long for many. Without a donkey, carrying small children is impossible.
People are left wondering how to survive this day.
Helsingin Sanomat / First published in print 20.6.2004, World Refugee Day
INKA KOVANEN / Helsingin Sanomat
inka.kovanen@hs.fi
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| 22.6.2004 - THIS WEEK |
 Darfur emergency: the last truck drove away, taking all hope with it |
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