Sudan, Omer's cruel journey

International Humanitarian Law lies in a thousand pieces in this forgotten war
Displaced in Zalingei hospital, Darfur, Sudan. Photo the MSF

Is the journey a search or an escape? Omer always had it clear: a business. Their ancestors were nomads who had dedicated their lives to camel breeding and constant migration.. The last member of his family dedicated to pastoralism had been his grandfather. Omer traveled constantly but for matters that were discussed in offices or at dinners in restaurants with more name than value..

His last trip before the outbreak of war was to France, where in addition to working he did tourist things: ate overpriced croissants, ignored trash when it was excessive, He uploaded photos of the facade of some museum on his social networks and, when returning home, He said it was a beautiful country.
But, four months later, Omer's life changed radically, this time I embarked on a journey-escape.

He did not kiss his wife when leaving home; she had just died. Nor did he say goodbye to his son, promising to return with some gift typical of his destiny.; I had just buried him. And to be honest, I didn't even have a house. Not even a suitcase. No round trip ticket. The only thing that accompanied him was grief, and it weighed. Wow it was heavy.

I didn't even have a house. Not even a suitcase. No round trip ticket. The only thing that accompanied him was grief, and it weighed.

Normally, To travel he used socks with airplanes on them that his father gave him when he finished his doctorate.. But now there was no room for those relics of the past. What he carried with him were his prayers and an uncertain plan. I thought that displacement was a trip too, as was exile. The difference was that until then these types of journeys always happened to others.. These were tragedies that one read in passing in the pessimistic section of the newspaper..

Exile means, eg, lose your entire life

On the outskirts of Khartoum, He found the man who promised to help him escape. They gave him two options: Egypt or South Sudan. He recalled his trip to Egypt and the racism towards South Sudanese immigrants that had surprised him so much.. He remembered walking through Cairo, hating the idea of ​​being mistaken for just another refugee. and he insisted on walking around at forty degrees with his tie pulled tight.. He laughed remembering the scene and ended up choosing South Sudan. From there he planned to reach Kenya., where he knew a businessman - a guy who owed him a favor or two- who had promised him help if he managed to get there.

Transformed office for refugees in Zalingei, Sudan. MSF photo

Omer walked, He asked and followed directions in a world that was becoming increasingly strange.. He left money left and right, purchasing information and trusting that the addresses were correct. He crossed a soccer field where he used to play on weekends with his childhood friends. Several bodies had been piled up in one of the goals.. "Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un", whisper, saying goodbye to those dead with a prayer, although he no longer knew if he was praying for them or for the loss of his entire life..

Several bodies had been piled up in one of the goals.. "Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un", whisper, saying goodbye to those dead with a prayer

He got on a truck full of survivors like him; people who could pay an exorbitantly priced ticket to travel as mere illegal merchandise. A journey in which the chances of dying were equal, or even surpassed, to the possibilities of reaching your destination. He resigned. “I was surprised by my desire to save myself.”,” Omer tells me in a Sudanese restaurant in Nairobi. “It was about survival instinct, something purely animal. If I thought about it, I wanted to die, but my blood insists on continuing to flow through my veins.”

The truck stopped so that the passengers could relieve themselves., sometimes not even that. Nobody spoke, not even the children. "I know someone died, maybe more than one person. When we arrive, I was weak and dazed. Then, my tolerance for dead bodies and human waste was total.,» recalls Omer with a disconcerting calm.

Shot at Zalingei hospital, Darfur, Sudan. MSF photo

One of those in charge told them the address of the camps where they could receive humanitarian aid.. Most continued on foot. Omer followed another man who put him in another truck, with which they would cross South Sudan and Uganda until reaching Nairobi. During the journey, He remembered when he told his wife that he always got a headache on long flights.. In the back of that truck it didn't hurt at all. “The pain made sense because she was there to calm it. Now there was no one, complaining to the void is of no use.”

Hospitals as a battlefield

Once in Nairobi, his friend asked him what war was like. “It's worse than they say. There is no limit to brutality. I think both sides have forgotten why they fight,” he says he answered. And is that, without rules and without the protection of International Humanitarian Law, theWhat is happening in Sudan is not a war but a carnage. We talk about crimes happening without control, no humanitarian corridors, no safe zones. The country's capital has become an urban battlefield with no safe places.

Despite the critical situation, The international media barely mentions the tragedy. The West does not feel responsible or threatened by what is happening in Sudan, and the death of a few more in Africa does not make a difference, especially if the victims are black.

Entrance to the emergency room of Zalingei hospital, Sudan. MSF photo

What is happening in Sudan is not so different from the situation in Gaza. From the 15 April 2023, more than 77 Hospitals have been attacked by both the Sudanese army and the Rapid Support Forces. Attacks on medical facilities have left society without shelter and more than seven million people have been displaced.

“Continuing to see patients is painful.”,” says Fahim Mohamed, medical assistant in Darfur. “Almost the 80% of sanitary facilities are out of service, either due to direct attacks or lack of medical supplies and personnel. The few of us who remain know that we are risking our lives.”

They not only fear dying in a hospital attack, They are also afraid of doctors, to the other patients. Nobody trusts anyone; We have all become potential murderers in the eyes of others

The 15 October 2024, Doctors Without Borders announced the interruption of the treatment of 5.000 malnourished children in Darfur due to food and medicine blockade. Nonetheless, The hospital continues to operate and treats the most serious cases.

Para Fahim, Every day brings new risks, and explains how every patient who enters the hospital door does so with fear. «They not only fear dying in an attack on the hospital, also They are afraid of doctors, to the other patients. Nobody trusts anyone; "We have all become potential murderers in the eyes of others."

If we stay silent it's like nothing is happening

Omer's son died in a hospital from an illness that could have been easily treated in any other country.. His wife was a victim of crossfire while visiting her parents in the south of Khartoum. His body was raped and mutilated. “At first I refused to tell the details to protect his dignity.”,” Omer explains to me. “Then I understood that the aberration must be counted, because if we stay silent it's like nothing is happening. Here in Nairobi They ask me if it is true that guerrillas force their victims to commit acts of cannibalism. They ask about the violations, the mutilations, by the mass graves visible from space. As if war wasn't enough. It seems that the tragedy in Sudan needs excess for the world to pay attention,” Omer adds with resignation.

“At first I refused to tell the details to protect his dignity.”,” Omer explains to me. “Then I understood that the aberration must be counted, because if we stay silent it's like nothing is happening. Here in Nairobi they ask me if it is true that guerrillas force their victims to commit acts of cannibalism

Health workers in the field confirm that they face situations that exceed the limit of what they understood as possible: indiscriminate attacks against vulnerable population, bodies whose organs have been removed, indescribable torture, violations without discriminating gender or age. “We face extreme cases knowing that at any moment it can happen to us”, says Fahim from Darfur. “Being healthy doesn't mean anything., It doesn’t protect you from anything.”

Aissa, 50 years, with his family in an abandoned camp at the fire station in Zalingei, Sudan. MSF photo

International Humanitarian Law lies in a thousand pieces, proving useless to contain cruel wars, genocides and indiscriminate killings.

“In Sudan we cannot count on the law, not even with international help, nor with public indignation and even I believe that not even with God.", Omer protests. “Of course we cannot count on empathy either., because nothing is known and, if you know, it doesn't matter. But look, we die at the same rate as in other wars, we bleed the same and the fear is the same”, concludes.

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