Sudan: journey of tears.

Abu Baker’s family live in Darfur, experiencing, like thousands of others, the tragedy and disruption of the recent conflict. He recently returned to his birthplace with UK Foreign Secretary Jack Straw and reflects for Developments on what has taken place. Pictures by Geoff Crawford.

Sanctuary.

I was a bit anxious when first heard I would accompany Mr Jack Straw, the UK Foreign Secretary, on his visit to Darfur. I wondered whether this would be an opportunity to witness the results of the so-called “world’s worst humanitarian disaster” or just a matter of shaking hands.

In reality it was both. I was able to appreciate how sympathetic Mr. Straw and his delegation were. Their sense of humanity went deep into the faces of the people of Darfur. Grace to Mr Straw, to the UN Secretary General, USA, German and French Foreign Ministers, and to many others who visited the region.

As a Darfurian who is keen for peace, stability and development in the region, I express my appreciation to all those working to restore the devastating situation. Their hard work, in the Internally Displaced People (IDP) camps across the region – particularly in Abushouk – is invaluable. Many thanks also to the local authorities for their co-operation in facilitating the access of international community to the region. Nevertheless, there is a lot to be done.

My name is Abu Baker Ishag, born on 26 December 1966 in Izarig, a small village 20km west of Kuttum. My father was a farmer, married to three wives. My family included 10 brothers and seven sisters, who endured poor living standards. The eldest brother is an English teacher in a local school so as to be close to the family. Most of my other brothers left school early due to economic problems and high school fees. Luckily, four of us managed to study at evening classes while working in workshops, restaurants or other casual jobs and then went to university or college. My sisters, thankfully, have been able to set up their own families.

For some years I have lived in Khartoum, working with the British Embassy but still visiting the family in Darfur regularly. My last visit to our village was in March 2003, just one month after the rebellion broke out in Darfur. This was a very difficult journey as I was uncertain and scared of what might happen during the course of the trip. I was warned my belongings might be stolen, or I may even be killed – people in the area were frightened and not sure what would happen next.

People talked about the rebel groups calling themselves “Kieh Kang”, a local dialect term meaning “we are here”. There was also word of other groups called Janjaweeds who people believed had formed to fight the rebels. Government aeroplanes and forces were everywhere. This frightened the civilians more as they started thinking that war would break out in their area and had no idea what to do. Some decided to move into towns but others were reluctant, thinking that towns were not safe either.

Three weeks later, I returned safely to Khartoum, but unfortunately, news reports from the countryside were full of horrible stories.

People’s belongings were looted, women were raped and others killed. The worst incident – one that I and our people from Kuttum will never forget – was, in June 2003 when the fighting came into the town. After three days of fighting between rebel and army forces, the Janjaweeds attacked the town for three consecutive days, looting every single shop, house, and restaurant. They killed hundreds of people of selected groups, mainly African Fur, Zaghawa and Tunjur who the government thought were backing the rebels. Sadly, every non-Arab family has lost a member, mine included.

Thousands of individuals fled – walking hundreds of miles to other towns, including Korma and El Fasher. Many have not and will not return home, because they have lost everything and feel unsafe. Those who lost their fathers or productive family members are now struggling to feed themselves and provide shelter. Many women whose husbands were killed are now begging in order to feed their children, children forced to abandon their schooling due to financial difficulties. And thousands are displaced.

There is a lot to be done. Notably the security situation needs to be improved. Actions and decisions need to be taken quickly by the Sudanese Government and the international community. The implementation of laws, and the disarmament of the Janjaweeds and other militias are imperative.

Despite the enormous amount of work in making improvements, the IDP camp at Abushouk, seems like a bride who has lost her groom. Though it’s said to be the best camp in the region, people there do not feel safe and are scared of returning to their villages. Back home they lost everything; their lives, lovers, food, and believe the Janjaweeds have spoiled their water resources. Out of 57,000 IDPs in this camp only 7,000 are reported to have returned home and others show no interest due to lack of security.

The situation in other camps, such as those in Mornie, Zamzam and my hometown of Kassab in Kuttum raises questions. Who caused such deteriorating humanitarian conditions in the region? Why are only certain groups there (mainly the non-Arabs) given the composition of multiethnic tribes in Darfur? I believe our politicians have a lot to say on this.

The crises not only have a very strong impact on individuals directly affected, but also on the region and the country as the whole. Every family has had at least one of it members killed, a woman or daughter raped, huts burned, cattle looted or a child facing some kind of disease. For example, some of my family members have been killed, others are now widely scattered since their villages were bombed a year ago.

When an aeroplane passed over our house, my six-year-old nephew, who came from a bombed village, scrambled into one of the rooms, closed the door and hid himself under a bed. He believed the plane was the one which bombed their village.

My mother and one of my sisters have moved to Khartoum; two other sisters and their children are now living in Kuttum; one of my brothers had to cut short his employment contract abroad and return to help settle the family; two of my younger brothers – like hundreds of village students – have left education because their schools were destroyed. I cannot foresee us reuniting the family in the near future. We are not in a position to make any short-term plans, let alone long-term ones.

There is no way we can rebuild our community in the near future. Over 40 villages in the area were swept in one major attack by the militias – aerial bombing, soldiers on horseback and others on camels. Over 35 people were killed on that day, thousands of cattle looted and the infrastructure has gone back to zero in the area.

But we must not bury our heads in the sand – development prospects will only be feasible when people feel human, safe, can exercise their rights and feel powerful to implement laws. It looks as if history has repeated itself, even if it took a long time to do so. Centuries ago, Darfurians believed, the town of El Fasher was founded when a thirsty bully travelled across the Sahara from mountains to fetch water from the lake – but he did not stay there because he never felt safe and, despite the availability of water, returned to the bush. I feel history may accelerate quicker next time. Widowed women and orphan children may decide to follow their grandfather’s way and step back into the bush.

I would like to call for a moment of reflection. Unless we establish whose responsibility it was for displacing millions from their homes, unless we undertake more positive actions from the top leaders to the individual members of our community, it will not be possible to restore the situation. We must also appreciate that we live in a world that is now as small as a village and that we all have roles to play in our community, irrespective of whether we are Africans, Arabs or otherwise.

People want to feel safe, and they will only be able to live a normal life once there is law and order. Unfortunately, most of the Darfurians, particularly the women and children, have now lost confidence in their local authorities and believe that only the international community can rescue them. What a shame!

The international community must intervene to restore the confidence that has been lost between the individuals and their local authorities. People in Darfur believe we need a deployment of forces from other non-Arab countries – Africans or Europeans, preferably Europeans. Until such a time, they believe their lives will remain at risk.