Following the expulsion of humanitarian aid groups from Darfur, President Bashir promised that any gaps in assistance would be filled by the Sudanese government—Bashir has even gone so far as to suggest that, within a year, all humanitarian aid in Darfur will be “Sudanized.”
In Abu Shouk camp, the idea of “Sudanized” medical care is not one that brings much comfort to those who are now left without the assistance of professional medical practitioners. Humanitarian assistance in the area has been crippled by the expulsions—leading to long lines, a shortage of supplies, and an overall decrease in security in an already-dangerous environment.
Hit particularly hard by the expulsions are clinics specializing in the treatment of women and children—as in most conflicts, women and children in Darfur have borne the lion’s share of suffering, degradation, and death. Accounting for upwards of 70% of the IDP population, women and children are now further endangered by the forced removal of professional medical service providers. With dwindling resources comes dwindling options—some of the options left to civilians in Darfur seem incomprehensible to anyone who has set foot in a modern medical care facility.
Mastoura Hussein, a 22-year-old woman living in Abu Shouk, was receiving treatment for an inflammation of the uterus—her treatment was being provided by doctors at a specialized woman’s health clinic. That treatment was abruptly ended when the organization operating the clinic was expelled from Darfur. So, Mastoura now stands for hours outside of a general medical clinic operated by the Egyptian military—a clinic that may not have the required medications or expertise to treat her condition. Should the Egyptian clinic be unable to treat her condition, Mastoura’s options may dwindle to the point that she is forced to seek help from a traditional healer.
Although many traditional healers have a variety of magical cures for everyday health woes, traditional medicine is a far cry from the modern medical care associated with a complicated affliction such as inflammation of the uterus. One healer near Abu Shouk suggested Mastoura use a remedy of holy water, charcoal, and glue poured over a board inscribed with verses from the Quran for relief. In Darfur today, Mastoura is running out of options.
Bashir is not a man known for his honesty, but in at least one respect, he is absolutely truthful—the aid gaps will be filled. If the gaps in medical care are not filled by professionals with medication, then they will be filled by charcoal and glue; if the gaps in water and food are not filled by healthy supplies of both, then they will be filled by the drinking of diseased water and the desperation of famine; if the gaps in security are not filled by trusted, trained professionals, then they will be filled with angry, hungry, armed militias.
If desperation is allowed to become the driving force in Darfur, then the outcome will be equally desperate. The people of Darfur don’t need magic and they don’t need empty rhetoric—they need doctors; they need food and water; they need to live free of the fear of bombing raids, arson attacks, and gang rapes conducted and condoned by their own government; they need help and they need it now.
The opinions expressed here are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the position of the Save Darfur Coalition.
