The Rains have finally come.. 

This week

This week I became quite sick. Stomach. Had not experienced similar since living in Nepal and Cambodia (where it happened quite frequently). Sudan has been good to me health wise. Until now. Until something contaminated our water tank and I simultaneously ate something bad in the camp and am now 5kg lighter.. But I will regain. 

Also this week, four wonderful colleagues are leaving. Sad times. In the absence of a life outside work, interacting with other social groups and NGO staff, we have all come to rely on each other pretty heavily here in 'Guantanamo' (as our national staff call the guest house compound). I feel the loneliness setting in already. 

And finally this week, we finished verifying IDP ration cards in one camp (all 65,000 of them!).  We are now stopping for one month to allow for Ramadan. Ramadan is an interesting time to live in an Islamic part of the world. To outsiders, it must sound tough, fasting from sun-up to sun-down. But when you witness the joy that goes along with the nightly, family orientated celebrations and the relaxed pace daily life assumes then it is actually quite a peaceful, happy time. No more sneaking in a bite of lunch at my desk though. That would just be too cruel. 

And so, as war still simmers in parts of this country and they continue to talk at length about an illustrious thing called 'peace in Darfur', I try to keep my head up and remember what I came here for. I try to remain positive and hopeful and focus on the short-term joys that are within my grasp. Like seeing the coolest person I know in less than one month. Somewhere near the ocean potentially. What a treat. 

When I was in Sydney last month I went and heard Dr. Jane Goodall give a public lecture. She has always been a bit of a hero, ever since reading her chimp books years ago. As expected, she was wonderfully inspiring. A fellow intrepid friend posted this quote yesterday and it touched me, so I am going to borrow it too. Thanks TKM. 

Sydney, May 2011

"You can't solve all the problems of the world, but each day you can do something... And a certain peace comes from doing what you feel you should be doing." -Jane Goodall

Australia, my long-distance Love, this ones for you..

I got a secret
I think I’m in love with missing you

More than I’m in love with you 

That’s why I go away all the time

That’s why I travel the world and roam free

I feel like a travelling salesman

Even though I’m a woman

Picking up my bags from the station

Standing there face to face

I’d be lying if I did not say

I love you more when I’m missing you

That’s why I’m always away

Believe me it’s true

I love the danger in distance

I’d rather be missing you

                                                       From the Beautiful sounds of  Seeker Lover Keeper

From one girl to another.

I look at all these young girls in the camp each day. And I question their future. I hold hope in my heart for each and every one of them. I wish I could reach out to every one of them and say to them "Tell your father you must stay in school! You must not be married off at the age of 15, you must be given the chance to live your life"..  I wish I could somehow communicate to the men that it is now proven that if a girl can stay in school until at least age 15, she has will have 2.2 less children, be  3 times less likely to contract HIV/AIDS, will earn 25% more income and will be willing to invest 90% of her earnings back into her family. But of course it is more complex than that. If a daughter is in school, who will collect the water? Bring in the livestock? Care for the babies? Earn some extra income for the family? That was her birthright. Not school. Not a different kind of future to her mother. Not a life like my own. More Notes on girls here. 

p.s. for astounding facts on the effects of targeting girls in poverty, check out Half The Sky. 

A Displaced Childhood

There are a lot of kids in Darfur. And a lot of little fingerprints that are being added to our database so we can keep track of them.  It would be easy to say 80% of people living in these camps are under the age of 8. Everywhere you look there seems to be children. And new babies. And pregnant women. And while it makes me smile, to see so many cute little faces, (despite the fact that many of them scream or cry when they see me because the last time saw a white person was in the vaccination centre, ouch!), it also makes me incredibly sad to think about this generation and what their future may hold for them. Especially for the girls.  

               

There are few men turning up for the verifications as there are few men still living here in these camps. They have all left for the city or the towns or the farms. The women stay behind, with the few elderly who manage to make it that far, and try and make some kind of living to feed the many children.  (the men obviously pop back for visits..). What is it about emergencies and displacements and having more kids?! I witnessed the same in Nepal in the floods. Boredom? Contingency planning for losses? Populate or perish? In relation to food security, it makes no sense at all and it frustrates us working here to witness so many children being born into poverty, to parents and to community leaders who will not be able to give them a life every child deserves.  But perhaps that is because they do not even know what that is..

 

A thought.

Frustrations.. 

Could be defined as having to unexpectedly and suddenly evacuate your home and place of work. To have to leave the landscape and people you have become passionate about working with. And having all your stuff stolen and destroyed :(

Frustration could also be... 

Being somewhere you are passionate about but unable to get out and do what you really came there for. Constantly being at risk of danger and witnessing the abuse of precious resources that could ultimately stretch so far if used right. 

But gratitude... 

Gratitude is being able to pursue your dreams and strive to be good at something you have chosen to do. It is being able to say you are proud of your profession and the life you have. Being grateful for the beautiful people and places that can still touch you, even in times of frustration. 

Thats all. 

Crazy Good

These photographs here of Sudan, by freelance photographer Tim McKullka, are some of the best I have ever seen. Crazy good. I have read thousands and thousands of words on this country and her conflicts.. scholars books, humanitarian reports, activism campaigns,  constant news articles.. But these photo's hit home that a good picture really is worth a thousand words. Especially for the outside world who will never get chance to step inside this country and wander her many varied lands.

Plastic bag free! Yippee!

I am so proud of my Darfur town. No more plastic bags in the market for any trader. And it has been impressive how quickly everyone is abiding to these new rules! Paper bags all round! (or cheese wrapped in yesterdays newspaper as I was handed today).  My friends at Dear Plastic would be pleased. No more hideous 'plastic trees' that scar the landscape. No more plastic flags waving from every barbed wired compound wall. No more choking donkeys... (or at least there will be no more, once they finish eating all the current plastic).

Where it's at

Fatour (breakfast)

Shai (tea)

Our lovely tea lady, Haawa. She is always happy to see me and make my sweet hibiscus tea. 

Today in the camp one of the Sheikhs came and asked us if he could be excused from the verifications for 4-5 days and that he would report with his family when he got back. I asked him where he was going, expecting him to say he needed to oversee his crops or attend to some business in town. Instead he responded that he was flying to Doha later today to attend the peace-talks. I wished him all the very best and peace for his country. He smiled and responded that he deeply wished for peace in all parts and for all peoples of his country.  It was a good moment.

This is what my days are looking like

Six years ago, the humanitarian community working in Darfur re-verified all the displaced families in need and re-distributed ration-cards, entitling them to continued food, NFI and health services while they were forced to live outside their villages. This was meant to then be done every couple of years to re-confirm the legitimate need of each and every IDP. But this is Darfur. And for multiple reasons, this was impossible. Until now. So this is what we are now doing, 6 days a week. We need to check each and every person - removing the absentees, and adding the newborns (and there are many!!). We have almost 2 million people to get through across Darfur. Many of whom are now doing much better and do not need so much assistance. Others are struggling. And we want to make sure we channel the assistance into their homes, where it is really needed. 

Everyone is getting finger-printed. Even the smallest. Even the cutest.

Some beautiful words sent with love from Yumi ~ 

"May today there be peace within. 

May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be. 

May you not forget the infinite possibilities 

that are born of faith in yourself and others. 

May you use the gifts that you have received, 

and pass on the love that has been given to you. 

May you be content with yourself just the way you are. 

Let this knowledge settle into your bones, 

and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. 

It is there for each and everyone of us"

To mourn or celebrate?

Returning to Sudan after two months at home has been an interesting mix of emotions. In 5 days time this will no longer be the biggest country in Africa. The partition into two separate countries was meant to be about peace. About finding peace, finally, after all this time. I see the separation as a kind of acceptance of human-kinds intolerance to what is different and the inability to coexist with the unfamiliar. But if dividing means less innocent lives end up suffering, then perhaps this is a just acceptance.  The last few weeks however, leading up to this 'peace',  have been nothing but bloodshed in the sensitive border regions of South Kordofan and the disputed town of Abyei. It feels poor taste to be celebrating anything when civilian women and children are running to shelter from their own government bombing them. Meanwhile in sunny Darfur, bombs over Jebel Mara, intermittent village attacks and kidnapping threats on aid-workers continue, making it equally as difficult to celebrate the split. Locals talk about other regions now separating from Khartoum, South Kordofan and of course Darfur. But drawing borders has never been a strong-suit of this long cursed country.

Today I spent 8 hours in a camp, amongst hundreds of  displaced Darfuri families, as we conducted our re-verification of ration cards. As I ushered women and babies about and grabbed the occasional translated conversation, I could not help but be shocked, once again, (continually!) at the desperately poor situation these peoples lives take shape in, simply because their government has neglected them time and time again throughout history. Their countrymen in Khartoum live in substantial wealth, as they drive their imported cars and send their kids to university.  Out here, they will only ever dream of such things.  It is days like this, as I look into their faces and the state of the children, that I understand the anger that fuelled this fight in the first place and the need to disassociate with a country that is clearly not their own.