After a year of displacement... Month with parents in Sudan
Tariq Abdallah
In the south-west, about 16 kilometres west of the Red Sea coast, the plane landed in the tarmac of Port Sudan Airport, empty of only two Badr-logo aircraft and one Tarco. On the north, a small third is circled by a group of mostly middle-aged young people in black, as soon as they tell you that the country is not well. Sweating from the heat of the weather, they travel the distance back and forth between the planes door and a door located at the end of the airport, where there are two dark black painted Marcides brand cars that appear on television and news with presidents, VIPs and officials aboard.
We got out of the flight ladder heading to the arrivals lounge, to park at one of the three passport officers windows so that my elder daughter and I would complete the required entry procedures in a short time. We left the airport after carrying our suitcases in haste to begin a new flight in which we travelled approximately 1,000 kilometres towards northern Sudan, where the part of the family that distributed the surviving was displaced between Manafi, Omdurman and northern Sudan.
We were trying to go the biggest distance from the road before dark and had to spend the night on the way because of a roaming ban or avoiding driving late.
On the road we didnt see truck or car traffic, as before the war broke out. There is no movement of exports and imports and few cars that survived theft held by their owners may have had to flee again if they had to sell or sell them if they were to suffer daydream.
Along the way, we were stopping at army checkpoints, which exceeded 20, to ask us to let some soldiers ride with us to get me to a destination or share some water and food. We were seeing soldiers with fatigue and destructive effects on them passing by with some water and food.
On the road do not lose sight of displaced persons fleeing areas where the fighting has recently reached carrying their luggage. This tragic scene is tens of kilometres away from Port Sudan, where the Army Command is sitting, that is, we have not yet left the state border or the provisional capital.
My daughter fell asleep in the back seat of the car after being overwhelmed by a flight of more than eighteen hours on the plane, six hours along the road between Port Sudan and Atbara, where we stopped to take a little rest and get some water and fuel. We left Atbara through the great mother of birds heading to the northern state border. It was about 3 p.m. and the movement along the road was almost non-existent, perhaps because of high temperatures or avoidance of travel in the evening when checks and searches for travelers luggage and belongings increased.
We arrived in the northern state after dark, and at the alcove we stopped again for coffee. As soon as we sat down, our facilities dabbled in talking to soldiers at the checkpoint and coffee owner, while I was busy arranging the backseat on which my daughter slept, some of which bored the view of the desert and was intensified by inflammation. Turn to where the group sits waiting for coffee to see a knock running towards the seated. My skin hair rose up and I screamed (Scorpion Gomo up).
Everyone rose up and sooner had coffee with his shoes. A soldier thanked me and told me that I was the second person on this day to save them from scorpion bites in that place. I remembered that one of the landmarks of North Sudan and North Africa is the spread of reptiles and toxic insects that are active in the evening in search of prey, and hide from the heat of the day.
Finally we arrived and met my mother, God saved her, after we parted a year ago in front of her house in northern Omdurman to begin a new journey of displacement.
The Northern Territory is like the cities and villages of the Sudan that have not yet been fought. Its cities are burning with displaced persons and complaining of scarce resources and food. Everyone used to follow an unhealthy diet in line with war situations, such as reducing the number of meals to one diversity-free meal in strict application of the concept of (adopting negative coping machanisms), which has been published in the literature of relief organizations working on food and food issues such as the World Food and Agriculture Programme, known as FAO and the World Food Programme, meaning adapting people to pressurized situations by applying a strategy aimed at surviving as long as possible under abnormal conditions.
This explains some of the health problems that have begun to arise for the Sudanese people within the homeland, such as the vitamin A deficiency known locally as nocturnal disease, which affects most soldiers and officers in besieged military positions. This explains the inability of those who survive scorpion bites at checkpoints, in the way we came with the help of passers-by, to see them through the darkness, even my daughter did not survive this situation after the triple disease, the heat of the weather and the change of the place. The World Childrens Food Programme has found no food other than energy biscuits to prevent malnutrition. The famine had broken its tusks and had begun to eat hand in hand in the Sudans sons with the war.
Anecdotes of morale and nodal education no longer work as the situation intensifies. On one occasion my niece stated that she was unhappy with the falafel sandwich, which was difficult to chew and swallow at school during breakfast, and that it was not saturated. (Even if you say the name of God a thousand times), a reference to the anecdotal narrative of the people of Sudan, which says that Satan eats your food and leaves you hungry if you dont start eating it with the phrase "the name of God" that you and your demon meet in the seasons of abundance...!
Surprisingly, the reality on Earth is far from whats going on on on social media. The majority dont have that luxury and the news of this or that, the debate of this or that, the validity of this or that position. All those whom they wish to have the war stop before it reaches them are prolonged by its direct or indirect evil, such as incidents of looting and chaos following the RSFs entry into and control of cities and military garrisons.
The holiday period and holiday expired, and I returned to work with an expired passport with the extension stamped. She tried to get me the new one month without success. On the way back, I lost my suitcases, one of which I found and was informed that the other might have been lost somewhere between Frankfurt, Cairo and Port Sudan. I said in my secret maybe the mothers creek could work before it ignited to bring the bag home to wait for its owner...!
