Monday, May 18, 2009

Revelations in Al Fasher

Darfur is Africa.

Riding down the dirt road in the Northern city of Al-Fasher, our bus seemed to be cruising down a familiar path, not foreign to many of the passengers. Beside me, a young Ghanian man said to himself: "This, this is what the fuss is about?" An established professor from Gambia looked out the window and exclaimed: "This is like many cities in Gambia. This is like Nigeria. This is like Sierra Leone. You know, this is
Africa."

He was right. Al Fasher was not just like Africa, it resembled the donkey-drawn carts, the kids running barefoot in the dirt, the mud-built huts, the very air of Sudan's capital. It was a sight all too familiar.

We eagerly walked out of the bus, keen to interact with the locals and discover the region. A young woman, maybe a few years older than me joined my group and I.  She was modestly dressed in a headscarf and loose gown.She mustered up the English that she has been taught and proudly said: "I was student in Al Fasher University."
I later learned that Al Fasher University is home to more than 11,000 students and a variety of schools including the School of Engineering.
And they call it a genocide.

I had a million facts I wanted cleared up, a million questions I wanted answers, a million skepticisms I wanted voided.  On behalf of the figures splashed on TV screens, the images on magazines, the accusations on Congress' lips, the fingers pointed towards the Sudanese government, John Prendegrast and Jerry Fowler (ENOUGH project founder and Save Darfur president, respectively), I impulsively and blatantly  asked the young woman in Arabic: "Is there a war in Darfur?"
She smiled at my straightforwardness, a trait not common to the evasiveness of Sudanese dialogue.  
"To be honest with you I have not seen an exchange of fire since 2004 when the situation was at its worst," she responded.
I was quite surprised at this new fact, and urged my group to come around so that I could translate this new piece of knowledge.
"What is going on then?" I thought to myself.  This cannot be a crisis built out of absolute nothingness.


We passed a secure building, quite possibly the largest in Al Fasher.  The United Nations African-Union Mission in Darfur, it spelle
d out.  According to the village tribal leader we later conversed with, UNAMID was operating effectively and successfully in the region.  Soon, we drove passed the dilapidated OXFAM site.  Shut down permanently by the Sudanese government.

We were lead to speak to the Al Fasher
 tribal leader.  I chuckled to myself as I looked up at his jolly round face thought of an African Santa Clause. 
He began to explain to us, as the 
leader of the village, the situation in Darfur.  He spoke to us about the operating schools, university, the growing health care system and mostly of the Darfurian pride.  And as if on que, an old man dressed in a torn up jalabiya stained with dirt, said to our group: "We do not want your pity, we don't need your help -- we are a proud people of Sudan and are living just fine!"
Typically Sudanese, I thought to myself.  
Nationalistic, patriotic and dignity for days.  



We wandered around the Abu Shook camp for internally displaced people.  I knew in an instant we were in one of the better sites. 
 I first noticed the food piled high.  Watermelons were stacked one on another in the beating sun.  Women were busily working, molding clay into bricks for their homes.  Men were bartering and conversing at the market.  People were being productive.

And they call it genocide.

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