- 31 Mar 2004
- 232
- 8
- 28
The sun was so high, so white, so implacably hot that all things in a distance could not be seen as the heat haze was so dense that everything was blurred. The desert wind, blowing strongly, continuously, was so painfull and scorching that I was certain no one could live here. My blue djellaba, my head covered with the local turban, one end wrapped around the lower part of my face, leaving nothing but my eyes to be seen behind the dark green sunglasses, covered me completely. I had difficulties walking in the sand. The air was so hot that it was so hard to breathe. Nevertheless, I kept on walking, head low.
It was just a day like another one in Darfour. It was just a day like any other day in their lives.
For me it was just another step closer to hell窶冱 threshold.
There were five of them, skeleton women trying to hide from the sun, under a poor tree, bleached leaves, thin branches, almost no shade. There were five of them, probably living the last hours or day of their miserable life. Worst, if possible, two of them held in the craddle of so meager arms a child. If not yet dead, they would not pass another day, even less two if they were so unlucky to suffer longer still. If they had no clothes on, I could easily have counted every single bone of their bodies through the withering black skin, eaten away by parasites.
Big black eyes, circled by a white eyeball that had terminally turned yellow, open into nothingness and desolation, allready without life. They did not have enough strength to cry or ask for help, breathing in was just about all they had enough force to do. The woman tried desperatly to give her daughter one last drop of an illusory milk from a dryied out flat brest. Then she saw me, looked up slowly, without standing up, she took the child away from her, stretching her bony arms, holding out the infant to me. There was a faint smile on her harrassed face, but not even a spark of life in her eyes. She did not (could not ?) speak. At this very moment the child窶冱 head rolled forward, not even trying to hold it straight. Not even a miserable attempt to fight for survival. I fell strongly on my knees to the ground, reaching forward, my eyes full of tears, the only water in this area. I was so eager to take her yet afraid of breaking her bones. Slowly, as gently as I could, I took the baby in my arms. I realised immediately that it was allready too late.
Standing up, I started to walk back toward the car, with robot-like movements. The mother wanted me to take care of the little girl, I was not going to tell her she was allready dead. It would be an illusion, her last illusion. She would die thinking her daughter could, one day, become a princess, a beautifull princess, somewhere in a place that they had heard about but could not even begin to imagine. I was not going to say otherwise.
I opened the rear door of the car, found a blanket and rolled the little body into it. I called, shouted, yelled, wanting to bang my head against the burning metal of the car. Then I reached for the 25 liters water container, grabbed some towels and made my way back to the tree, half walking, half running, stumbling, falling, standing up again. The second mother looked at me, another hopless, empty and sad expression, spoke some words in a harsh, dryied out voice begging me to take her child, too. Again I kneeled, openend the water bag. But the woman did not want any of it. She insisted, with whatever little force she had left, holding the baby to me, shaking and trembling with lack of energy. I reached for the little body. There again, it was too late. The woman knew it but asked me to place it with the other body so that they could be together and have a decent grave. Decent grave ? Here ? In the middle of nowhere ? Again, I ran to the car, placed the second body in the same blanket.
Jenny, a young doctor*, my so efficient and hunman partner for the past week, came back to the car. Before she could see the bodies she told me that there was no one around. Then she realised. Without a word she got a large medical container and two plastic bags out of the rear of the van, made a quick check of the two infants, shaked her head no and did what she had to do. We did not have to speak, we had done that so many times before, this morning, yesterday, the day before yesterday, all week !
I grabbed some liquid food rations, no solid food could be swallowed by those so empty stomachs, and hurryied back under the tree. The five women looked at me. Jenny arrived, running as she could with her great white doctor's container. The women shook their heads no, all at once. The one who spoke to me before said that all they wanted was to die here. We are ready, ready since a long time, our eyes cannot support to see any more of it, our heads cannot accept to think of tommorow, our bodies cannot take any more violence, she whispered. They simply did not want to be treated, they did not want to keep on living. What for, she asked me ? I had no words, no answers to the question because I knew exactly what she meant. Why should she get better ? Only to go back to the same misery, get violented, beaten, raped again, carry a child she did not want, she could not feed窶ヲ start the story all over again ?
Of course, death would be the only relief, death would be sweet as paradise. But Jenny could not let this happened. Or could she ? We looked at each other, she asked me to go back to the car. Just as usual. But, as usual I refused. I wanted, and she knew it right from the first day, to be a part of it, I had to be with her, to support her. I told the woman that we would respect her wishes. I said to her that, anyway, we had no way or no means of transporting them anywhere. They allready were too weak to be moved. Then she smiled, reached out slowly for my hand and asked us to take our head gear off so that she could see our faces. We were startled but did what she wanted. Jenny blond as wheat in summer time, like they had never seen, me asian as they had probably never seen before uncovered ourselves. Four women smiled, the fifth one was allready on her way to eternity. Jenny leaped to her, took her puls, shook her head no, again. Then one of the woman said, after looking for a long time at us, that they allready were in paradise and that they could now sleep with a better vision of the world.
How long did we sat here, offering water, insisting for food, from time to time, getting the same answer, no, always.
The respect of one's life is also the respect of one's death. To me, there is no doubt, there is no question about it.
After a while, after asking god, buddha, allah, brahma, vishnu, and so many others, WHY, and getting no answer, Jenny got up, I followed, we made our way back to the van, forward to the next tree, probably only a few miles further, to the next death in nowhere land.
That was sixty minutes of my life in Darfour.
That is Darfour, that is Sudan, near the Tchad border. That is exactly where hell is.
If one day someone asks you where hell is, now you know and you will be able to tell.
If one day someone asks you where the folly of mankind is, you can tell it's in hell, and hell is there, and you know where it is窶ヲ
But no one will ever ask those questions. Because no one really cares.
I know that. I know because I have seen the big and important ones, the politicians, the ones that make and rule the world of today, the nightmare of our future. I know because I have talked to them, crying the despair of the the population of Darfour, shouting to them about murders, violence, rape, deportation, savagery beyond anyone's comprehension. Shouting and crying without hate and without shame. They made statement and speeches on TV, in a five star hotel where they slept so well. They threatened the government of Sudan and Tchad. They went away and things are still the same. They made me promesses, but nothing has changed. Nobody talks about Darfour anymore, or so little.
But maybe there still is hope. Because we are so many to care. I've had promesses from the french government, they will intervene officially from Tchad. I know the UN do the utmost to send food directly to the population and not through the government where it always vanish. It seems to be starting a little, too few for too many.
Today, it's August 5th 2004 and I'm just out of hospital. I went to hell and I feel even more stronger. Tomorrow, in only in a few hours, now that my burned skin is better, now that my eyes see better again, now that I can walk straight, I'll go back to hell, just to show to those who rape, those who kill that they will not win, if I can help it and as long as I live. To show them that I, and many others, care. Because we don't fight against natural elements, but against the most dangerous ennemy one can find : MEN ! men full of hate and contempt, men that do not respect life, do not respect anything, men that are trying to conquest power by terror and murders.
*of course, that is not her real name.
It was just a day like another one in Darfour. It was just a day like any other day in their lives.
For me it was just another step closer to hell窶冱 threshold.
There were five of them, skeleton women trying to hide from the sun, under a poor tree, bleached leaves, thin branches, almost no shade. There were five of them, probably living the last hours or day of their miserable life. Worst, if possible, two of them held in the craddle of so meager arms a child. If not yet dead, they would not pass another day, even less two if they were so unlucky to suffer longer still. If they had no clothes on, I could easily have counted every single bone of their bodies through the withering black skin, eaten away by parasites.
Big black eyes, circled by a white eyeball that had terminally turned yellow, open into nothingness and desolation, allready without life. They did not have enough strength to cry or ask for help, breathing in was just about all they had enough force to do. The woman tried desperatly to give her daughter one last drop of an illusory milk from a dryied out flat brest. Then she saw me, looked up slowly, without standing up, she took the child away from her, stretching her bony arms, holding out the infant to me. There was a faint smile on her harrassed face, but not even a spark of life in her eyes. She did not (could not ?) speak. At this very moment the child窶冱 head rolled forward, not even trying to hold it straight. Not even a miserable attempt to fight for survival. I fell strongly on my knees to the ground, reaching forward, my eyes full of tears, the only water in this area. I was so eager to take her yet afraid of breaking her bones. Slowly, as gently as I could, I took the baby in my arms. I realised immediately that it was allready too late.
Standing up, I started to walk back toward the car, with robot-like movements. The mother wanted me to take care of the little girl, I was not going to tell her she was allready dead. It would be an illusion, her last illusion. She would die thinking her daughter could, one day, become a princess, a beautifull princess, somewhere in a place that they had heard about but could not even begin to imagine. I was not going to say otherwise.
I opened the rear door of the car, found a blanket and rolled the little body into it. I called, shouted, yelled, wanting to bang my head against the burning metal of the car. Then I reached for the 25 liters water container, grabbed some towels and made my way back to the tree, half walking, half running, stumbling, falling, standing up again. The second mother looked at me, another hopless, empty and sad expression, spoke some words in a harsh, dryied out voice begging me to take her child, too. Again I kneeled, openend the water bag. But the woman did not want any of it. She insisted, with whatever little force she had left, holding the baby to me, shaking and trembling with lack of energy. I reached for the little body. There again, it was too late. The woman knew it but asked me to place it with the other body so that they could be together and have a decent grave. Decent grave ? Here ? In the middle of nowhere ? Again, I ran to the car, placed the second body in the same blanket.
Jenny, a young doctor*, my so efficient and hunman partner for the past week, came back to the car. Before she could see the bodies she told me that there was no one around. Then she realised. Without a word she got a large medical container and two plastic bags out of the rear of the van, made a quick check of the two infants, shaked her head no and did what she had to do. We did not have to speak, we had done that so many times before, this morning, yesterday, the day before yesterday, all week !
I grabbed some liquid food rations, no solid food could be swallowed by those so empty stomachs, and hurryied back under the tree. The five women looked at me. Jenny arrived, running as she could with her great white doctor's container. The women shook their heads no, all at once. The one who spoke to me before said that all they wanted was to die here. We are ready, ready since a long time, our eyes cannot support to see any more of it, our heads cannot accept to think of tommorow, our bodies cannot take any more violence, she whispered. They simply did not want to be treated, they did not want to keep on living. What for, she asked me ? I had no words, no answers to the question because I knew exactly what she meant. Why should she get better ? Only to go back to the same misery, get violented, beaten, raped again, carry a child she did not want, she could not feed窶ヲ start the story all over again ?
Of course, death would be the only relief, death would be sweet as paradise. But Jenny could not let this happened. Or could she ? We looked at each other, she asked me to go back to the car. Just as usual. But, as usual I refused. I wanted, and she knew it right from the first day, to be a part of it, I had to be with her, to support her. I told the woman that we would respect her wishes. I said to her that, anyway, we had no way or no means of transporting them anywhere. They allready were too weak to be moved. Then she smiled, reached out slowly for my hand and asked us to take our head gear off so that she could see our faces. We were startled but did what she wanted. Jenny blond as wheat in summer time, like they had never seen, me asian as they had probably never seen before uncovered ourselves. Four women smiled, the fifth one was allready on her way to eternity. Jenny leaped to her, took her puls, shook her head no, again. Then one of the woman said, after looking for a long time at us, that they allready were in paradise and that they could now sleep with a better vision of the world.
How long did we sat here, offering water, insisting for food, from time to time, getting the same answer, no, always.
The respect of one's life is also the respect of one's death. To me, there is no doubt, there is no question about it.
After a while, after asking god, buddha, allah, brahma, vishnu, and so many others, WHY, and getting no answer, Jenny got up, I followed, we made our way back to the van, forward to the next tree, probably only a few miles further, to the next death in nowhere land.
That was sixty minutes of my life in Darfour.
That is Darfour, that is Sudan, near the Tchad border. That is exactly where hell is.
If one day someone asks you where hell is, now you know and you will be able to tell.
If one day someone asks you where the folly of mankind is, you can tell it's in hell, and hell is there, and you know where it is窶ヲ
But no one will ever ask those questions. Because no one really cares.
I know that. I know because I have seen the big and important ones, the politicians, the ones that make and rule the world of today, the nightmare of our future. I know because I have talked to them, crying the despair of the the population of Darfour, shouting to them about murders, violence, rape, deportation, savagery beyond anyone's comprehension. Shouting and crying without hate and without shame. They made statement and speeches on TV, in a five star hotel where they slept so well. They threatened the government of Sudan and Tchad. They went away and things are still the same. They made me promesses, but nothing has changed. Nobody talks about Darfour anymore, or so little.
But maybe there still is hope. Because we are so many to care. I've had promesses from the french government, they will intervene officially from Tchad. I know the UN do the utmost to send food directly to the population and not through the government where it always vanish. It seems to be starting a little, too few for too many.
Today, it's August 5th 2004 and I'm just out of hospital. I went to hell and I feel even more stronger. Tomorrow, in only in a few hours, now that my burned skin is better, now that my eyes see better again, now that I can walk straight, I'll go back to hell, just to show to those who rape, those who kill that they will not win, if I can help it and as long as I live. To show them that I, and many others, care. Because we don't fight against natural elements, but against the most dangerous ennemy one can find : MEN ! men full of hate and contempt, men that do not respect life, do not respect anything, men that are trying to conquest power by terror and murders.
*of course, that is not her real name.