Grim times in Sudan

By Tamsin Walters
Cafod aid worker in Darfur

Food and water are scarce, women have been gang-raped, disease is rife. In the Darfur conflict, even an experienced aid worker can be taken aback by the hardships suffered - but will the rest of the world hear Sudan's pleas for help?

A million have been displaced

Driving along the deserted, pot-holed roads towards southern Darfur, the unfolding scenes of devastation are marked by burnt-out village after burnt-out village.

Mud walls are torn down or smashed, and straw roofs no longer exist. Discarded sandals litter the area, illustrating the speed with which the people have fled.

This rapid flight has left hundreds of thousands of people with nothing. No clothes, no sleeping mats to lay over the bare earth, no cooking utensils. Any personal belongings are likely to be among the charred remains left behind in the villages.

And attacks by the Janjaweed, the Arab militia blamed for perpetrating atrocities against African farmers, continue. Rather than a sense of security in the towns and camps to which the refugees have fled, the mood of fear is oppressive.

The only people seen on the road are Janjaweed groups laden down with the animals they have looted and the goods they have taken. They wave happily as we drive by.

Sex crimes

Security is the major problem facing the people of Darfur. I've spoken to women who have been repeatedly raped, and heard of girls as young as 11 who've been abducted.

Women live in fear of the militia

The women are effectively trapped, unable to venture outside the towns and camps to search for firewood and grass - items essential to their survival, either to sell in exchange for food or for their own use.

As an aid worker specialising in health and nutrition, with experience in emergencies around the world, I came to Sudan prepared for a grim situation. But Darfur is by far one of the worst humanitarian crises I've witnessed.

The aid agency's pleas haven't fallen on deaf ears, as more than £300,000 has already been donated.

But Martha Clarke, the head of media for Cafod, says the press in the UK is very focused on domestic matters and admits there's a "kind of fatigue" when it comes to reporting on the crisis.

"It's a shame that there needs to be conflict to bring it to the media's attention," she says.

Cafod and other agencies are doing what we can to alleviate people's suffering, concentrating on providing shelter, food, water and sanitation to the hundreds of thousands of people made homeless.

But time is running out in which to reach them - our aim is to beat the rains which come in early July, and cut off many parts of this devastated region.

Rainy season

These rains have to be seen to be believed. A thunderstorm broke while I was there. Tucked inside a local office, at least I had cement walls and a roof. Thousands of others crouched together under shelters hastily built from narrow poles covered in grain. The torrential rain soon flattened many.

Sampling a newly drilled well

When the rains arrive, those without shelter face the new threat of acute respiratory infections and malaria. Without food, they will not have the strength to fight disease that stems from unclean water and lack of sanitation.

Because of the severe water shortages, people queue for up to 10 hours at the few pumps - and this leaves them vulnerable to further attack.

There is barely enough water to drink, let alone wash. And with few latrines and cramped conditions in the towns and camps, the health risks are enormous.

Already many children have died from a measles epidemic, which is now under control. But the children are traumatised, and food shortages and disease have left the very young with severe malnutrition.

How to help Big country, big problems

The towns of the south are among the last places to be reached by aid organisations. So the people themselves do much of the work. Local communities have taken the displaced into their own homes, or helped them build shelters, as well as offering cooking utensils.

With whole villages being emptied in one fell swoop following Janjaweed attacks, the displaced often include teachers and health workers, who are working hard for their communities.

And our role is to help provide the tools they need to survive.