UNHCR Compound, Farchana - The Rocky Road to Darfur

We are told we have to be up by 6.30am. This invokes instantaneous scepticism based on numerous previous occasions when we absolutely definitely postively indubitably HAVE to be up by such and such a time, after which we spend an inordinate amount of time waiting somewhere else for something or someone, moaning about how we could have had another hour in bed or a second cup of coffee.

This morning was one of those mornings.

Today the four of us split up into two groups – Jeremy had headed down to the relative greenery of the regions surrounding the Goz Beida refugee camps, and I’ll try and post his blog from there later this week. The other half (including me) bounced along the Trans-Chadian superhighway towards Sudan/Darfur. This is the same road Jeremy and I travelled in May, one a lighting visit to the refugee camp at Ga Ga. On that journey our progress was slowed by a lengthy convoy of the Sudanese Rebel Army (JEM) coming in the opposite direction. This invoked a certain amount of nerves on the part of our UN colleagues, who respectfully (as is the policy) pulled over until they went past (which given there were 60 odd vehicles took some time) but Jeremy, on the other hand, was in his element “Look at the Mortars on that one…now THAT anti-aircraft gun could do a lot of damage.”

Today there were no incidents, although we had to negotiate large pot holes and still-running water in the wadis. After two hours we arrive at Farchana. The UNHCR guest Houses (small purpose built African style huts called rondavels) are full, so we amble over to the neighbouring World Food Programme compound where they have space – we dump our bags and head out to meet some of the local villagers. This is something we have been trying to do now for some time, as getting their perspective on the refugees is extremely important. They tell us how difficult it is now that they are both competing for resources. How little veterinary care they have access to and how much they would value it if somehow we could put together a plan to provide it. Sitting under a shady tree with them beside a dry wadi they tell us, strangers just half an hour ago, how much they appreciate our seeking them out and bothering to ask about their lives. Their lives were undoubtedly hard before the refugees arrived and now they have got that much harder. The plan we draw up will address their concerns as well.

Barely an hour later we’re in the Farchana camp itself. Perhaps it's because WFP are today on Day 3 of the October food distribution programme, there is a palpable good humour about the place. Unbelievably, a man comes up to me and starts talking in very good English. He was a farmer in Darfur, who took English classes at night school. The pride he has in this is clearly evident and I regret not having more time to talk to him, but we are being pressed by a growing throng to take their pictures, and then to meet the village elders or Sheiks, so I regretfully shake his hand and say goodbye. And good luck.

Like everyone else, the Sheiks are eager to find out about SPANA and one of the younger ones, a tall, handsome Darfuri refugee has even better English than the farmer. Like the villagers, the Sheiks tell us just how important their livestock are to them, and just how hard it is to find food for these precious animals when they are competing with villagers for limited natural resources like grazing and water. And like the villagers they take the trouble, in a measured and powerful way, to thank us sincerely for bothering to come and ask them about their world and the difficulties they are facing. Despite all the horrors they have been through, and we can only guess at some of those, there’s absolutely no cynicism from them. It’s quite a humbling experience.

And so now we are back in the compound and we are in for an interesting evening. It's been quite humid all afternoon, and around 4pm we noticed some very dark clouds making their way from the East. Every now and then the wind gets up, and blows a dervish-like dust-devil through the compound, which sets the metal doors off crashing like cymbals and throwing clouds of sand into our faces. A downpour tonight is expected, but that could set the rivers off again, and we must have crossed 30 or more of them on our journey. Water is what everyone wants here, but tonight, just for once, I’ll be hoping the rain stays away. If I post a blog tomorrow, it will probably mean that we’ve been stranded!