Food is distributed to Sudanese refugees in Koufron, Chad. Credit: WFP/Jacques David
 
Meanwhile, a former UN staff member who worked for a decade in Sudan’s Darfur region for the African Union-United Nations mission, UNAMID, has told UN News how she had to “avoid stepping on the bodies in the streets” as she fled for her life to neighbouring Chad. March 2024.

By James Elder
DARFUR, Western Sudan, May 9 2024 (IPS)

As dawn breaks over Darfur, my return after two decades feels heavy. Many millions are suffering once again. Twenty years ago, I was part of the humanitarian effort to make a difference. That was in the early 2000s, when celebrities and world-famous journalists would make the trek in a well-intentioned effort to focus attention on the atrocities across Darfur.

But despite years of progress, this return is difficult; something akin to a bleak déjà vu. Indeed, in many respects, this time it is much, much worse for children and women. Sudan’s Darfur region has long been plagued by conflict, displacement, and unimaginable suffering.

But now, as Sudan is torn apart by warring parties, there are no Hollywood actors, nor coordinated, concerted international pressure from politicians and media, to tackle what is the largest displacement crisis for children on the planet.

Darfur faces one of the world’s worst man-made disasters, yet so few people are talking about. After a year of fighting, more than 4.5 million children have been displaced. That’s more children than the entire population of many countries.

My initial experience 20 years ago left an indelible mark on me. Now, two decades later, I find myself standing once again on the soil of Darfur, the landscape hardly changed, but the problems all too familiar.

There’s a frightful, familiar pattern to this current war. The fighting has been brutal. The ceasefires almost non-existent. The clashes spreading. And the atrocities many, with girls and women so frequently targeted.

“If they couldn’t carry it, they burnt it”

Talking to the people, most of whom are displaced, I hear familiar themes from 20 years ago. Fighters didn’t just battle each other but looted whatever they could find, including basics like beds, mattresses, blankets, pots and pans or clothes. They took everything and, as an elderly woman told me in the city of Genenia: “If they couldn’t carry it, they burnt it.”

As I travel across West Darfur, I see evidence of a rebuilt life demolished once again, this time for the next generation. There were schools, health clinics and water systems less than 20 years old that now, after intense fighting, have been destroyed.

Lifesaving services that protect children and families again on the brink of collapse. Frontline workers like nurses, teachers, doctors, have not been paid in months. They are running out of medicines. Safe water is sparse.

Similarly, for those who were children the last time I was in Darfur it is again a desolate place. University students and graduates, mostly young men but some women – young people who wanted a job in economics, medicine or IT – are now refugees in Chad with next to nothing. They crave the tiniest opportunity.

Dreams on hold

In the chaos of this war, the brightest minds have been forced to abandon their studies, their ambitions shattered. As 22-year-old Haida said to me in Darfur: “I had a dream – to study medical science. I was living that dream. Now I have nothing. I do not dream. Sadness is my friend.”

Her gentle voice, perfect clarity, and utter grief floor me. I can only imagine how much more attention Sudan would get if the world could meet young Sudanese women like Haida.

Or Ahmed, 20, now in Farchana, Chad: “I cannot afford to dream here.” How then to reawaken their dreams? Those in power need to negotiate a ceasefire, and ensure aid is no longer blocked – from any side.

Those in the region need to show leadership. Those in donor countries need to show compassion – and translate that into funding to address immediate needs.

I speak to Nawal, 24, from Zelinge in West Darfur, for whom the stress of war had become so much that she delivered her baby, at home, two months premature. And then, as she was giving birth, Nawal’s house was bombed. Miraculously, she and her baby survived, but when I met her, the baby was badly malnourished. I will always remember the look of this mother, as she whispered to me, head bowed, “I am a nutritionist, but look at my child’.

She was ashamed. I thought she was heroic. She had walked for a day to get her baby to a facility where the baby could receive treatment from UNICEF, but without additional resources and improved access, she will be one of the few lucky ones.

James Elder is UNICEF’s spokesperson. Follow him @1james_elder

IPS UN Bureau

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Children look at their destroyed homes in Rafah city, in the southern Gaza Strip. Credit: UNICEF/Eyad El Baba

By James Elder
GAZA STRIP, Feb 29 2024 (IPS)

Nothing could prepare me for my recently concluded mission into the Gaza Strip, where children face catastrophic conditions.

In my twenty years with UNICEF, traveling from one humanitarian crisis to the next – from famines to floods and war zones to refugee camps – I’ve simply never seen such devastation and despair as is happening in Gaza.

The intensity of the attacks, the massive number of child casualties, the desperation and panic of the people on the move – people who already have nothing – is palpable. It is humanitarian disaster on top of humanitarian disaster.

Near the start of the recent brief pause in fighting, we set out early in the morning at Rafah on the border with Egypt. Our convoy of trucks carrying vital humanitarian aid made its way slowly in a punishing journey north to Gaza City, which hadn’t seen aid in weeks.

The two cities are just 35 kilometres apart, but travelling through a war zone always makes distances seem more daunting. Along the way, I saw apartment building after apartment building, home after home, flattened by the bombings, a dystopian scene that stretched for miles.

In Gaza City I got out to look more closely at a building that had been reduced to rubble. Inside, I noticed bloodstains, but it’s impossible to know whether the people who were pulled out of this mass of concrete survived.

I will never forget how a man in his 60s walked out from the ruins of a recently bombed apartment building. At first, I thought he was indicating the number 10, as in 10 people had been killed. But he corrected this, using a stick to write in the dirt: 30. It wasn’t the number of people killed. It was the number of his extended family members killed in the blast.

This man had lost everyone, his whole extended family, everyone he loved. At the start of this war, UNICEF said Gaza was a “graveyard for children and a living hell for everyone else.” It has only gotten worse as the bombing and fighting have continued.

There was a hope that the devastation seen before the pause would not be repeated should the fighting resume. But after hearing hundreds and hundreds of rounds of artillery and more explosions, I could tell that it’s happening.

Within hours, the humanitarian pause felt too long ago.

I walked across the wreckage of what I was told was once a tight-knit community that is now broken glass, rubble and steel crunching under my feet. Homes sliced open, their contents exposed like doll houses, the inside of lives laid bare.

Against the grey rubble, eerie remnants of normalcy cropped up, like a sofa on a third-floor apartment with no walls, or a painting on the only wall left standing after a blast.

I looked at what was once a child’s bedroom, with pink blankets, a cupboard, shelves full of books, fluffy stuffed toys. It looked like the room of any 12-year-old girl, from any middle-class family, anywhere in the world. It was largely untouched. The little girl would have been safe if she wasn’t in another room with her family when the home was struck.

Driving through Gaza there’s never much time for reflection. The aid convoy needs to keep moving.

Along the route we saw the same theme repeated in neighborhood after neighborhood: basic needs are not being met. People need water and nourishment. Hospitals need medicine. This convoy has all those things. But despite our efforts and those of our UN colleagues, I know it’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough.

As one of my UNICEF colleagues noted just a couple of weeks into the war, the killing and maiming of children, abduction of children, attacks on hospitals and schools, and the denial of humanitarian access are a stain on our collective conscience. It was true then, it remains true now.

From Gaza City we pushed further north, to Jabaliya. The first thing I noticed were the piles of rotting garbage outside hospitals, offices and schools. Sanitation and rubbish collection services have broken down completely, of course, as trucks have no fuel to collect it and the conflict has displaced most of the workers who do these jobs anyway.

One hospital we visited, Al-Ahli Arab Hospital, was utterly chaotic. It was overcrowded, loud, intense. Our trucks were delivering medical supplies while wounded people were being rushed in bleeding.

We eventually made it back to the south of Gaza, to what we call the Joint Operation Centre. That’s where dozens of UN workers meet to discuss the next mission. The mood was sombre. We all know what Palestinian families need: they need more of everything, especially medicines, water, fuel, food.

But genuine safety for Gaza’s children depends on parties to the conflict ensuring that humanitarians have unimpeded access to civilians wherever they are… on our ability to bring water, essential food, nutrition supplements, fuel and other humanitarian supplies into the territory… and on parties implementing an immediate humanitarian ceasefire.

Unless those conditions are met, children in Gaza are now in danger from the sky, disease on the ground, and death from hunger and thirst. Nowhere is safe.

The children of Gaza have suffered enough. We need a humanitarian ceasefire, and peace, now.

James Elder is UNICEF’s spokesperson. Follow him @1james_elder

Source: UNICEF BLOG

IPS UN Bureau

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Credit: UNICEF/UNI403619/Karimi

By James Elder
KABUL, Afghanistan, Jul 26 2023 (IPS)

The needs of Afghanistan’s children and families are immense. So are the efforts of those supporting them: teams of community workers made up of family members, teachers in community-based schools, vaccinators, and health workers working around the clock to bring life-saving services in the face of an unfolding humanitarian catastrophe.

I recently traveled to eastern Afghanistan to meet some of the inspiring heroes who, this year already, helped UNICEF reach around 19 million children and their families with health and nutrition services.

UNICEF’s incredible health and nutrition response is supported by people across Afghan society. One of them is Mangal, a hero on two wheels. Every morning, Mangal picks up vaccines at a UNICEF-supported district hospital.

He carefully packs them in a cooler, which he straps to his motorbike before setting off to remote villages. Mangal braves rough, narrow roads, the scorching heat, and genuine security risks.

“I ride for nine kilometres every day to bring these vaccines to the people who need them,” he tells me. “They understand how important it is to protect their children from diseases. They don’t need any persuasion to come here. They greet me with gratitude and hope.” 

A doctor prescribes medicine for mothers and children during a UNICEF-supported mobile health and nutrition team visit. Credit: Karim / UNICEF

Some of Mangal’s supplies land here, with a UNICEF-supported mobile health and nutrition team providing services straight to the communities who need them most and who have no other way to access health care.

Like so much of UNICEF’s health and nutrition work across Afghanistan, these programmes are game-changers.

But these teams have their work cut out for them.

“Nearly half of all children under five in Afghanistan are malnourished, a truly devastating number,” UNICEF’s head of nutrition, Melanie Galvin, tells me. “Some 875,000 of them are expected to need treatment for severe acute malnutrition, the most lethal form of undernutrition and one of the top threats to child survival across the globe.”

Ramping up the response means staffing up the response, too. UNICEF has more than doubled the number of places where a child can be treated.

“Last year we put more nutrition nurses and nutrition counsellors into overflowing hospitals,” Melanie says. “We put them directly into communities where people live. We put them into mobile clinics that reach very small and isolated populations. We put them into day care centre spaces in poor urban areas.”

A child receives RUTF during a visit by a UNICEF-supported mobile health and nutrition team. Credit Karim/UNICEF

Mobile health and nutrition teams are critical in reaching rural areas with basic services like pre-natal checkups, vaccinations, psycho-social counselling, and ready-to-use therapeutic food (RUTF). It’s a heartbreaking condition to see up close. In this photo, little Zarmina receives an RUTF sachet from Melanie.

RUTF really is a magical paste – energy dense and full of micronutrients. Used to treat severe acute malnutrition, also known as severe wasting, RUTF is made using peanuts, sugar, milk powder, oil, vitamins and minerals, and has helped treat millions of children in Afghanistan.

As we tour a hospital, Dr. Fouzia Shafique, UNICEF Afghanistan’s Principal Health Advisor, explains how UNICEF has managed to support so many children, despite all the challenges.

“Health clinics, family teams of community workers, community-based schools, vaccinators, and trained female health workers,” she tells me. Donors such as the World Bank and Asian Development Bank have also been critical partners, helping UNICEF provide care even in difficult-to-reach areas of the country.

So many of the life-saving interventions I encountered on my mission are made possible by the tireless work of UNICEF staff such as Dr. Shafique and Dr. Nafi Kakar, who fill a multitude of roles, including inspecting vaccines and parts of the cold chain system that is used to store them.

Helping families access quality primary and secondary health care means supporting thousands of health facilities, covering operating costs, paying the salaries of tens of thousands of health workers, and procuring and distributing medical supplies.

Together, these efforts are helping UNICEF reach many of the more than 15 million children in Afghanistan who need support. It’s a difficult number to comprehend, but easier to appreciate when you meet some of those very same children.

There’s the baby fighting for her life in an incubator; the children working for their families in fields of unexploded mines; the children grappling with the anxieties and pressures of poverty; or the girls deprived of their greatest hope – education. Each child is like my own. Unique. Each child is special.

The smiles say it all: For Dr. Shafique and young girls in Afghanistan, it’s been a good day. But there remains so much to do. Supporting the health and well-being of people in Afghanistan isn’t only about access to health services, it’s also about the protection of rights – notably, ensuring rights and freedoms for women and girls.

Given the enormity of UNICEF’s role in the health and nutrition sector, it’s critical for UNICEF – and for children in Afghanistan – that funding is maintained. So that the country’s children can grow up safe, healthy and be the heroes in their own stories.

Source: UNICEF Blog
The UNICEF Blog promotes children’s rights and well-being, and ideas about ways to improve their lives and the lives of their families. It also brings insights and opinions from the world’s leading child rights experts and accounts from UNICEF’s staff on the ground in more than 190 countries and territories. The opinions expressed on the UNICEF Blog are those of the author(s) and may not necessarily reflect UNICEF’s official position.

James Elder is UNICEF Spokesperson in Afghanistan.

IPS UN Bureau