Abandoned Village in North Darfur 

The Places from Which we Flee..

This is an abandoned village in North Darfur. Small patterns on the ground in odd geometric shapes, which in any other context would cause a mysterious feeling to emerge, of civilizations unimagined fleeing from some magical or spiritual force to conquer new lands and create new histories. Not in Darfur. This image conjures up what most of us will never experience and are challenged to even understand.

Winged Desert Bird 

As the landscape unfolds below this winged bird, lays not another world, but reality for hundreds of thousands. Countless lives that had little to lose before this conflict, but now have lost virtually everything. Possessions have little meaning, when neighbors are killed, children brutalized, and husbands, brothers and sons executed. And familiar faces are hard to decipher from the tens of thousands who now form “new villages” set in this sandy soil.

Who are the Nomads 

This conflict is not about nomads against farmers, or the Arabs against the Africans. It is too simple, political and contrived to only call it “Genocide” and then move to the next bracelet campaign. It is a complicated land, with a version of history that has changed as the story unfolds. It is not enough to blame the Nomads or the Arabs. It is not enough to say the land cannot support these people. The land lies beneath their feet and the people are here, very real and they belong here…despite conflict or cause. From an elder to a small child they can site their reasons, rationale and conclusions. They are not interested in simple solutions; they want to feel as though they too have reasons behind their suffering. Simply stated there is more than one version to this history.

This is a conflict about “livelihoods”. It is a conflict about the right to live. It is a conflict that has ceased to be concerned with humanity and compromise, but is now about banditry, crimes of opportunity, and impervious impunity. Livelihoods will come in all forms, from the looting of villages to the grazing of camels on abandoned and fallow fields.

For the past month 135 Tribal leaders, both Arab and Fur have met behind closed doors in Nyala, in South Sudan to discuss the crisis in Darfur and identify ways to encourage IDP Return. The media was not invited and now Musa Hilal and Fur Leaders are traveling to the three Darfur States to talk about their suggestions and discuss ways to encourage the “cooperation” of the humanitarian community. The Native Administration in Darfur has been greatly weakened by the creation of these “Three States” that did not exist before 1994. Omdas, Sheiks and Sultans have taken on titles with old names, but dress in new clothes. The GOS has played at the periphery of these processes and the messages are at best unclear and at worst muted by the skirmishes in the field between rebel forces, the Janjaweed and the SLA, or the people and their predators.

One would like to see all “Peace Processes” as encouraging, a sign of local capacities being respected, and traditional methods emerging. But at this time and in this place there is more distrust and disdain than discussion. It has already found a cynical media presentation in Reuters and even the New York Times. From the desert to the halls of UN headquarters these processes are dissected.

Elder Eyes 

How then can these peace processes emerge? In our world of images, media and political piracy it is easy to be lulled into some apathetic view of the Darfur drama. We can call it “tribal” or state that Africa should solve its own conflicts, not recognizing that a continent is a hard land to manage. Most do not even know the names of the countries that make up this incredibly vast land mass. Darfur is a part of a much bigger part of the plan and the humanitarian community is also part of this drama. We are all actors, some acting out of apathy and others out of awareness. It takes many forms and comes from all corners of the globe, the Japanese training the AU, the Spanish working with the Sudanese Red Crescent, the US neglectful negotiators of an unstable Peace. No country government can work alone with these fractured factions it will take all of our efforts, empathy and education.

Hands at Large 

Abu Shouk IDP Camp

It stood in the middle of a desert. Stretching as far as my eyes could see was a jumble of colorful makeshift tents, shelters and shacks. Already the colors of these shelters was faded by the sun and covered in a cloak of desert sand, making muted their once vibrant shades and designs. There is nothing “brilliant” to this assemblage now, although the sight is overpowering. All available space seems to be filled. There are donkeys, and goats, chickens and children of all ages. It is a rural city springing up from these dry desert sands.

A Sea of Shelters 

The IDP Camp of Abu Shouk is located in the middle of the desert. Although it is only a few kms from the center of El Fasher town it looks as though it were set in the middle of the Sahel. There are no trees and as far as the eye can see there are various shades, colors, and configurations of make shift shelters, some in the form of pre-fab plastic covered tunnel shelters, but most made of what wood and poles they can find, covered with small pieces of cloth, blankets and in some cases even clothes. It seems to be an endless sea of people trying to find shelter in sandstorms, blazing sun, and an environment that provides little to no protection. Abu Shouk has been in existence since April of 2004 and is “home” to some 71,000 people. It is a large city confined to an area that if void of these structures would seem like a scene from a movie on Saudi Arabia. The dunes are a brilliant orange against the noon day sun, and the distant mountains of Fasher rise slowly as though a mirage against this backdrop.

As I made my way through this vast land of displacement, you could see small shoots and roots beginning to emerge from what initially had seemed like chaos. There were market stalls, and people selling small plastic household goods, and packages of matches. There were “shelter side” stands made up of a few children or women selling groundnuts. There was commerce of a sort, the kind that buys some extra food for a family and allows for salt and sugar to be used in preparing meals.

Small Women in Childrens Clothes 

Abu Shouk is beginning to slowly turn into a village of sorts – many village turning into one seemingly endless expanse. The desert sand in some areas resembles the surface of the moon and is full of deep wells in the earth where brick making is happening. Free water yields to brick making an activity that is not only a livelihood issue but also one of security and stability. In this cloaked culture, providing walls against the elements and prying eyes allows for families to talk and gather safely and away from this necessary madness.

It is hard to imagine living like this, even temporarily. The temporary has now turned into the “timeless” and no one knows when these people will be able to return. There is still rampant insecurity in the village areas where these people came from. The training of the militias still continues, and over 50% of North Darfur is SLA (Sudanese Liberation Army) territory. There is conflict from many sides, and now there is a new place for “prey” in the IDP Camps and the surrounding environs. Women and children gathering wood find themselves subject to harassment and rape and the “police” that are often accused of these crimes face little punishment and seem in many cases to be above prosecution. Darfur is a place where issues of protection, security and safety are at the forefront of people’s heart and minds. Food and water may be scarce, but the daily emotional strain and torment that some families face impacts whole communities and in some cases entire camps.

Their Eyes Were Watching 

There was a riot the other day at a camp here just outside of town. 2,000 plus people mobilized to protest the rape of two young girls. It was believed that they had been raped by the police and the IDPs took to the desert roads surrounding the camps. The Sheiks and the Umdas (local leaders) could not contain the pain, anger and frustration of this crowd. It emerged as one force, spilling out from the seams of the camp out into the main road that leads to the entrance. The GOS mobilized and sent in waves and trucks of police, tear gas was fired into the crowd and shots fired. The unrest turned to chaos, and then to more unrest. It lasted for most of the day, waves of pain emerging in shifts as young men, women and even children mobilized, anxious to express their pain and anger even in the face of injury.

There seems to be no safety in these humanitarian havens. The police have been hired by the GOS and many of them are recognized as being party to the conflict, from areas where villages were burned and looted, or from being members of an Arab tribe accused of the attacks. There is little trust and pain lurks close to the surface. It is exhausting to be vulnerable in all places from village to road and from road to makeshift shelter. But even in the midst of fatigue frustration fuels dissent and resistance.