Everyone has felt the bitterness of loss in Sudan's war. I have, too.

Aisha's letter

As I write to you now, more than 700,000 people from Sudan have sought refuge in Chad—just like me and my family. 

Most of us were able to take only the bare necessities: clothes, maybe a photograph, some cash. The journey was a nightmare. We saw villages burned to the ground, heard gunfire, hid from armed men, and passed through countless checkpoints. By the time we reached eastern Chad, we had lost almost everything.

More than a year ago, I fled across the border with my brother and mother. We walked most of the 30 kilometers [18 miles] on foot, enduring the intense heat and constant fear of being attacked or stopped. Having my family with me gave me the strength to carry on. 

When we finally reached the transit camp near the town of Adré, there was almost nothing there at first, just a few tents and a vast, dusty plain dotted with shrubs. Little by little, latrines and water stations were constructed, and aid organizations began supporting us with food distribution. But as you can imagine, life is hard when such a large number of people suddenly arrive in one place and depend entirely on humanitarian aid.

The population of Adré has increased more than sixfold since the start of the war in Sudan. Many of the refugees were exhausted and ill, and some were seriously injured. MSF teams have been present in the transit camp, setting up a clinic with activities that have become vital for the refugees. They have also provided many other services such as mobile clinics, psychological support, and water supply. And it was there that I came to know MSF teams.

Who am I in this chaos?  

Let me introduce myself: My name is Aisha B. I am 28 years old, I am from El Geneina, West Darfur. The war has changed everything. I had a good life. After completing my studies in sociology and urban development, I worked for an NGO for several years. Now, I am with MSF. My current job as a health promoter involves sharing health education and [information about] services available in Adré transit camp.

Every morning, when I start work, many patients are already waiting in front of our clinic. I ask them about their complaints and guide them to the appropriate wards. Communication is a major challenge due to the many languages spoken here, and I work as a link between the medical teams and the patients.

When the first large group of patients has been treated, I move to the ward for acutely malnourished children. There, I speak with their relatives, usually mothers, about the care provided. I explain how the therapy works, how they can best care for their children, and how to prevent a relapse. I also educate them about the causes of malnutrition and how to protect children from illnesses like diarrhea or malaria.

Sometimes, just being there to listen helps. Every person has their own story. Everyone has felt the bitterness of loss in Sudan's war—including me. We have all experienced terrible things and had to leave our homes.

Recently, a woman arrived at MSF clinic with her baby. You can see them, Manahil and little Sabah, in the following photo. The mother had a high fever and lost consciousness shortly after her arrival. We urgently needed to notify someone from her family. 

While our doctor cared for Manahil, I managed to call her husband using her mobile phone. He came as quickly as he could. Meanwhile, a colleague and I took care of 5-month-old Sabah, who was fortunately doing well.

Our doctor diagnosed Manahil with malaria and severe dehydration. She was given intravenous fluids and malaria medication. Within 20 minutes, she regained consciousness, though she was still very weak and dazed. Her husband held her hand and cared for Sabah. 

Thankfully, the treatment worked. By evening, Manahil was stable enough to be discharged. I was so relieved. It would have been devastating for her husband and little Sabah if she hadn’t made it. It is at times like this that the importance of family becomes even more apparent.

Why is no one helping?

This is just one of many families I engage with daily. Many don’t yet have a tent or proper shelter. These living conditions break my heart.

International aid is adapting far too slowly to the large influx of people. Food rations are insufficient. Many children are acutely malnourished, and we treat them with therapeutic food in our facilities.

The situation in Sudan is even worse. It feels like a stab in the heart whenever I hear news from home and think of my friends and relatives still there. According to the UN, around 25 million people in Sudan are experiencing crisis levels of hunger—half the country’s population. 

Despite the heavy fighting, MSF is doing everything it can to provide aid in many parts of Sudan. I remember how, at the beginning of the war, many wounded people crossed the border to Adré. They had injuries from bombs or gunfire. At that time, MSF set up an inflatable hospital in the city center with an operating theater. Our teams worked around the clock, saving countless lives.

Though fewer wounded people are now arriving in Adré due to the shifting front lines, the fighting continues. I constantly worry about my relatives still in Sudan, but I have no other option but to focus on my work here. My daily tasks distract me and give me a sense of purpose. My job provides an income that supports my family, but more than that, it allows me to help others. I am fortunate to be part of a great team that works so hard to support all people here.

These are difficult times for us. But by listening to one another and taking care of each other, we can achieve a lot. We refugees are like one big family, giving each other strength.

I believe one thing unites us all, no matter where we live: we all need people in our lives who are close to us and on whom we can rely—especially in difficult situations.  

I don't know who will read my words or where. However, I send you my warmest greetings from Chad—and from my heart, also from Sudan.

Yours,  

Aisha B.