Sanctuary
In the midst of the chaos, fear and grief in Darfur, the simple arrival of a drum, a football or a little school routine provides a blessed calm and normality for traumatised children. Words and pictures by Pippa Ranger.
A small group of girls sit on the floor of the children’s
centre in the Dumma refugee camp. They have just been given a nugura,
the traditional drum in Sudan, something they haven’t had
since fleeing their villages under attack from the
Janjaweed six months ago. One girl starts a beat going. Another
starts to sing, and the rest of them join in. Soon there are more
than 50 girls surrounding the drummer, all singing and packed into
the tiny room. The music gets faster, but despite the rising temperature
it is relentless. They keep going without a break for over an hour.
A week ago there was no children’s centre here. Nowhere for children to play and learn. For many, just the simple addition of a football, a drum, or even paper to their daily life – things most children have been without for over six months – has given them something to look forward to each day, a sense of normality in their lives. A chance to be children.
Twelve year-old Hashaba enjoys playing the new drum and singing with her friends. “I am very happy to have the centre. Before it was not possible to dance and sing or do drawing and now we can.” The exercise books they have each been given have been completely filled with drawings in just three days. The children proudly show off their pictures of guns, helicopters and the standard Sudanese flowers, symbols of hope.
Across Darfur, children have lost everything, and many have seen high levels of violence. “Most of us are from the same area,” explains Zakarhia Al Thir, a teacher at the only school in Mershing refugee camp. “Many of these children’s friends were killed and six are still missing. This has a tremendous impact on children.” The children are frightened by the sound of cars or planes and find it difficult to concentrate. Safety is their biggest concern.
In situations like this, teachers and families are often the best, and most familiar, form of support for children who are experiencing the trauma of war. Indeed, just being able to go to school for a few hours a day gives children a sense of routine and normality that for many helps them keep going. “School is what we most want,” says six year-old Setcania in the Abu Shok camp in North Darfur.
Sensing the children needed help to get through the crisis in
nearby Manawashi refugee camp, 19 year-old Mehasim Abduallah Suraj
has set up a kindergarten. “I give the children activities
like singing and playing as this helps them forget about the attacks
from the Janjaweed. When I am here I am very happy, and so are the
children. We have sanctuary here.” For a few hours a day,
the kindergarten offers some hope for these children. “When
they go home, the children are scared again”, says Mahasim. “Everyday
I think maybe today or tomorrow we will be attacked again.”
Many children are still far from a school or children’s centre. Eleven year-old Hawa has lived in Mershing for nine months where there is only one school for 10,000 children. “Now we are sitting static without doing anything. We have no school, so we are not happy because we are sitting still and are sad.” Unbeknown to Hawa, she is sitting on the site of a new school that will be built from plastic sheeting and straw. Community leaders and Child Protection Officers from Save the Children are standing nearby discussing the best location for it.
According to Esther Dingemans, Child Protection Advisor for Save the Children, “there is huge overcrowding in the small number of schools in the camps and many of the teachers have been killed or have fled. We are working with community leaders and existing PTAs to respond to the demands from children and families for schools and safe places to play.”
Six months ago, 14 year-old Afaf was forced to leave her home in the middle of the night when the Janjaweed attacked her village and burned down all the huts, killing and looting as they went. Afaf’s uncle was one of those killed. Now living in Kass refugee camp, after walking for 20 days, Afaf is determined not to give up. “Because I can read and write well, I was invited to be on the Children’s Committee here with seven other children. Save the Children helped us build a Children’s Centre and I was chosen to run it. As Centre Manager I look after the children playing sport and drawing.”
Afaf is very busy. “I have eight brothers and sisters. As I am one of the oldest, I have lots of responsibility to look after the family. In the morning, I cook, collect water, look after my brothers and sisters and go to the market to buy food for us to eat. In the afternoon I go to school, and in the evenings I run the Children’s Centre.”
In the midst of such chaos and loss, it is refreshing to see some hope. As well as helping children to keep going through this crisis, “it is good for the children to learn as they will become doctors and teachers and be able to help their community in the future” says Mahasin.
Pippa Ranger works for Save the Children.
More information
www.savethechildren.org.uk