Woes of war
A mother’s tale of displacement and delivery under bombing
Nema and her husband were preparing for the arrival of their unborn child. She was two months away, and they looked forward to the new addition. Everything turned around when the war broke out. April 15 will forever remain a dark day for the mother of six. It was the first day of the holy month of Ramadan.
The explosions they once heard from afar got closer after a few days, sending them into panic.
“Suddenly they opened fire, and the bridges were closed,” she recalls. Given her condition, the decision to leave Ombdurman was delayed. They couldn’t leave her behind. She was heavy, and the baby would soon arrive.
“All hospitals we visited were closed, and the delivery date was soon approaching,” Nema explained.
The only operating hospital they found had been ransacked and attacked three days before they arrived. Their journey continued to another health centre after a tip-off from a good samaritan. Here they met a midwife, but with yet another hurdle. “She suggested a home delivery for babies delivered at night.” Relieved, Nema returned home and prayed that her baby would arrive in daylight, so she delivered at the health facility. But this she couldn’t determine. Stressed and anxious, Nema spent days waiting for her baby but under very precarious circumstances.
Delivering under shelling
It is always joy and celebration as parents await the birth of their babies. For Nema, the experience is one she will live to remember. Almost two months into the war, what she had earlier feared happened. The labour pains begun in the middle of the night, instantly sending her and husband on the streets in search for the midwife under intensified shelling. It would be a home delivery.
While she thought about saving her baby, she also worried about their lives – herself, the unborn baby, and her husband. Tears roll down her checks as she narrated,
“When the time for delivery came, we went to her house. There were no cars or any other means of transport, so we went on foot. The streets were closed.” “As I gave birth, the shooting continued. There were sounds of loud gunfire,” Nema shared.
Nema successfully delivered her baby boy, now seven months old. The harrowing experience remains fresh, a feeling difficult to explain. “I was drained psychologically, morally and physically.”
The journey out of the war zone
Nema’s woes were far from over even after the delivery. At just one month, the family decided to leave Ombdurman in search for a safer location. Not yet well enough, Nema, along with her mother, two brothers, and their five children, left home. Leaving her father behind was a tough decision. Bundled at the back of a truck with a few belongings, they embarked on the journey, ending up in Madani. Here they didn’t stay long as the shooting seemed to follow them. This time they didn’t wait.
“A stray bullet penetrated the house.”
Today they are in Kassala, with the difficult and unforgettable days behind them. But Nema worries if the war will get to Kassala. As she cuddles her son while staring at the rest of her children, she wonders what future they will have. She worries about their lives.
Their lives have greatly transformed from a stable life to one with uncertainties. From a spacious comfortable home to two small rooms that once housed a bakery, which they rent at 150,000 Sudanese pounds a month. While her husband works as a taxi driver, the income earned is not sufficient to cater to their needs. She worries whenever the children fall ill, or rent is due, and there is no money. “Before, everything was available, my husband had a job, and life was easier. Now, we lack many things.”
For necessities like water, Nema relies on the goodwill of neighbours, but when the taps run dry, they have to buy water from the trucks.
Daily life is a struggle and feeding her family difficult. As she cooks lentils for dinner, she confirms that most of what they need is available in the markets, but all they need is money, which sometimes is unavailable. The safety of her children worries her too. She won’t let them go to the street. They are still traumatized from the past. “Once a loud sound of a vehicle sent them into panic thinking it was bombing. They were scared.”
Despite the hardships Nema endures, she won’t let her children’s education slip away. After hearing about a UNICEF-supported safe learning space in town, quite a distance from her home, she ensures they attend daily. “It has been a year, and they have started forgetting their lessons. I don’t want them to forget what they learnt,” Nema echoed.
One year down the road, millions like Nema, their families, and children remain on the move, uncertain about tomorrow but hoping the war will end soon so they can return home, meet their loved ones and their children safe again.
“We just want to go back to our normal lives. We don't want anything else,” she pleaded.
