when the Janjaweed attack: the one who is attacked or sees the Janjaweed first will yell to alert her companions of the danger. Then every woman runs as fast as possible towards camp—calling out to the other groups of women along the way. They know they cannot fight the Janjaweed, who come on horses and camels, carrying guns and weapons, but if they help each other, some of them can manage to escape.
done. After a long absence, the camp manager returned with a short woman in a burka. Rana was tall and didn’t wear a burka. I was about to complain that this was not the right woman when I realized that this was just another Rana. Another one of thousands upon thousands of women who struggle every day to survive, to take care of their families, and to create a better future despite the violence, the politics, and the injustices that shatter their lives.
Gumra stopped her work to nurse her crying baby. She untied the rags she made a makeshift baby satchel out of and tenderly put little Motis on her lap. Her love and concern for her child overshadowed the fear in her eyes. But then that was why she was out here—two hours away from the camp. Two hours away from safety. She makes this journey into the heart of terror every day to provide for her family. She has no other choice.
Rana became a symbol to me. A symbol of hope because where there is strength and compassion, there is a chance for a better future. She inspired me to change my career and join Mercy Corps, an international humanitarian aid organization committed to ending oppression, helping the most vulnerable people, and building just communities. In my numerous missions with Mercy Corps, I have met hundreds of Rana’s who continue to inspire me even when the situation may seem hopeless.
She carried all the confidence of a CEO, only her “board room” was a As I stood out on the hills wooden pole with a tattered of Darfur, on watch for the Janjaweed, I knew that plastic sheet draped over it. Gumra was another Rana: A
As I watched this woman and saw her courage in the face of fear, her love in an environment fraught with hate, and her nurturing in a place of hostility, I was reminded of Rana.
© Cassandra Nelson/Mercy Corps
Two and a half years ago, I was reporting on the war in Afghanistan and visited the refugee camps near Jalalabad in eastern Afghanistan. It was there that I met Rana, an Afghan refugee, a mother of six children, a widow, and a woman with more courage and strength than I could comprehend. As I walked around the destitute camp and witnessed the horrors of children dying from hunger and disease, she came to me and greeted me with a firm handshake and a direct look into my eyes. She carried all the confidence of a CEO; only her “board room” was a wooden pole with a tattered plastic sheet draped over it. She invited me in and explained the problems the camp faced—no food, no water, no health care, no school. She never flinched, begged, or cried. She did not pity herself or her situation. She simply stated the facts. I sat dumbfounded as images of my life of washing machines, refrigerators, restaurants, and shopping malls flashed through my mind. I silently vowed I would do something to help her and her community. Three weeks later I came back to the Afghan refugee camp, only this time with 50 tons of wheat and rice. Friends and friends-of-friends had all donated money to help buy food when I told them what I had witnessed. At the time, I was a journalist, not an aid worker. But something in Rana had touched me deeply and I needed to do more than write words and take pictures. When I arrived with the trucks of food, I asked the camp manager to find Rana, so I could thank her for inspiring me and giving me strength to do something I had never
woman like so many others who will not give up, who will not be defeated. Her axe may have broken, but never her spirit.
Gumra finished collecting her firewood and stacked it in a neat bundle, tying it with an old piece of frayed rope. She rearranged little Motis on her back and then lifted the heavy bundle onto her head and began her long journey home to the camp. This is just one journey of many that lie ahead for Gumra and the hundreds of thousand of women from Darfur who have been driven from their homes and fled to camps for refugees and displaced people in search of safety, food, and shelter for their families. Cassandra Nelson is working in Darfur, Sudan, with Mercy Corps, an international relief and development organization. With support from donors worldwide, over 2,000 staff and volunteers change lives every day, reaching more than 6 million people in 38 countries torn by poverty and conflict throughout Africa, Asia, the Middle East, Europe and the Americas. www.mercycorps.org
FOR MORE INFORMATION U.N.’s humanitarian fact sheet on Sudan www.un.org/News/dh/sudan/humanassist.htm
Recommendations for peace from a conference of 16 Sudanese women peace builders, convened by Women Waging Peace. www.womenwagingpeace.net/ content/articles/SudanRecommendation.pdf
To take action see Tsuanami Action, p. 78.