Consider This from NPR - Violence In Sudan Forces A Mother To Make Difficult Choice

Episode Date: May 8, 2023

Sudan's capital city Khartoum has been embroiled in a vicious urban battle between rival armies for nearly two weeks. With the country on the brink of collapse, Residents Muhjah Khateeb, and her son have to make the difficult decision to leave their home and everything they have, behind. We hear excerpts from the audio diary that Khateeb recorded as they undertook the harrowing journey.NPR's Emmanuel Akinwotu reported her story.In participating regions, you'll also hear a local news segment to help you make sense of what's going on in your community.Email us at [e-mail] more about sponsor message choices: podcastchoices.com/adchoicesNPR Privacy Policy

Support for NPR comes from NPR member stations and Eric and Wendy Schmidt through the Schmidt Family Foundation, working toward a healthy, resilient, secure world for all. On the web at theschmidt.org. We suddenly heard the gunshots and explosions, followed by screaming, babies crying, people running. Hadil Mohammed is one of many doctors on the front lines of medical services in Khartoum. That's the capital of Sudan, and it's the epicenter of the conflict now unfolding in the region. We were scared to death with all the noise. Patients injured with gunshots and bleedings

were everywhere. Health care in Sudan was already severely overburdened and understaffed. But now it's on the brink of collapse because of the fighting between the paramilitary rapid support forces, or the RSF, and the country's army. Mohamed says the fighting trapped the hospital staff and patients inside the hospital. Me and my colleagues have spent days in a devastating situation, doing surgeries, extracting bullets from patients. And with time and the lack of supplies, eventually we lost most of the patients at the ICU. When the hospital was attacked by the RSF, Mohamed says they were forced to close. Across the country, thousands of medical staff can't get to the injured because the fighting is so intense. And while many doctors like Mohamed continue to do what they can to help, there hasn't been much support from the international community.

I've seen in the news a lot of the evacuations, planes and ships to evacuate people. And I wished for them to bring some of the needs with them. But that unfortunately didn't happen. Monday marks the 24th day of fighting for Sudan. Numbers from the United Nations show that over 335,000 Sudanese have been internally displaced, and about 123,000 have crossed borders to other countries. My journey is just like, it seems like it's going to be a very long journey. So just wish me luck. I will let you know what will happen to me. Mujah Khatib is 42 years old and lives in Khartoum. She has been keeping an audio diary for NPR documenting her struggles to get out of Sudan.

Good afternoon. It's day six. I spent a hard night yesterday. Day seven. Our first day of aid. Day ten. I couldn't sleep the night yesterday. Day seven. Our first day of aid. Day 10. I couldn't sleep the night before. When we first heard from her, she was still at home,

unable to leave because of the fighting. I'm just tired. I'm sick and tired. Everyone is leaving the city now. The issue is that I don't have my child. Consider this. With Sudan on the brink of collapse, Mujah Katif and her son have to make the difficult decision

to leave their home and everything they have behind in Khartoum. We'll follow them on their journey. From NPR, I'm Elsa Chang. It's Monday, May 8th. time mid-market exchange rate with no hidden fees. Download the Wise app today or visit wise.com. T's and C's apply. Support for NPR and the following message come from Carnegie Corporation of New York, working to reduce political polarization through philanthropic support for education, democracy, and peace. More information at carnegie.org. It's Consider This from NPR. Mujah Khatib lived in an apartment in Minayeri, south of Khartoum.

On the morning the conflict started, she woke to several phone calls. We can hear the sound of the bullets, of the shooting. If we did not die on the street, we will die inside our house. One of my friends, he's an army officer. He called me eight times and I said, what's wrong with him? And when I called him back, he told me like, where are you? Don't leave your house because the war has started. Khatib rushed out of her apartment to buy food. She heard gunfire and could see plumes of smoke rising over the city. NPR's Emmanuel Akinwotu has been in contact with Khatib, who has been keeping a diary throughout the conflict. Akinwotu has been in contact with Khatib, who has been keeping a diary throughout the conflict. Akinwotu takes it from here.

I first spoke to Khatib the day after the conflict erupted between the army and the rapid support forces. She was devastated and hoped it could end as suddenly as it started. But then each day, the violence continued and grew more intense. Hello, this is day four. She started to document what she saw and felt, recording on her phone and sending me voice notes on WhatsApp. Since morning, I couldn't eat anything. I'm not in a mood to eat, you know.

I'm just in my flat alone. This is the first time that we don't have electricity. And this was since the afternoon. And I'm not sure if you hear just the bombing now. They are bombing. As the fighting spread, and while without power, enough food or water, she started to plan how to escape Khartoum, but not without her 15-year-old son, Fadi.

Hi, Emmanuel, good morning. We are not fine. I'm not sure if I can see my son again. Her son had stayed for a few nights with family friends in East Khartoum and was meant to come home on the morning the conflict started. But now it was too dangerous to cross the city. I called where my son is staying and I asked about him. And they told me he's OK. He's sleeping, but he's sleeping under the bed. So it seemed that he's afraid. She missed him. But for now, she had to wait. Hi, this is day five. Within days of the conflict, there were hundreds of deaths and a spiralling humanitarian crisis.

Hi Emmanuel. The news about the safe exit. There is no safe exit. There is no truce. The army and the RSF announced temporary humanitarian ceasefires to allow safe exits for civilians and the injured. But they never held. The fighting never stopped. I can see the smoke and there is also shooting, bombing and other things. So it's not true. General Abdel Fattah al-Bahan, the head of the army and de facto head of state, is at war with his deputy and former ally, General Mohamed Hamdan de Golo, or Hemeti. Both sides claim they fight to protect the fragile transition to democracy sparked by the revolution, but

few believe this is anything other than a bloody struggle for power, with the country destroyed in the crossfire. I'm sick and tired. Everyone is leaving the city now. The issue is that I don't have my child. Day seven, our first day of Eid. Khatib never imagined spending Eid alone, but she had no choice. The streets were quieter, so she went looking for where she could buy food, all the while thinking of Fadi. Maybe at any point my son will come home and when he comes I want him to find that I prepared

some cookies for Eid. Eid is the end of Ramadan, a Muslim celebration and a time to be around family. But now she was at her lowest point. Day eight of war. I couldn't sleep last night and I decided that I have to bring my child by any means today. Her friends had been telling her to stay where she was, that her son was safe. But the fighting was more intense where he was in East Khartoum, so she felt she had to get to him. Later, she described walking in a daze through the streets, past checkpoints, under jets and the sound of warfare, until she reached him.

I have good news for you. I arrived home safely with my son. And I'm so tired and I feel hot and I'm hungry. Now I think I can start to make my plans. That night they celebrated together. On the way home she managed to find a grocery store that was open. She bought everything they I bought eggs, more processed meat, cheese, tomatoes, frozen strawberries so we can make juice at home. I bought two litres of Pepsi. And some things were just for her. I found my tobacco for my hookah, for smoking. I bought all this stuff, I collected, and I returned back home. My son is finally home, safe.

We cooked the burger. We had burger sandwiches at home with cheese and tomato slices. Then the next day she gave all her food away. She found a woman nearby who sold tea. I opened the fridge and I took all the meat, all the food I have at home, and I gave it to the tea lady. She felt so happy. Then they packed their things and left their home.

Days later, they arrived in Palooch, just inside the border with South Sudan. She, her son Fadi, and thousands of others camped outside a small airport used by oil workers, with few commercial flights and most of the refugees unable to afford them. She described a desperate scene that mirrors the other border areas around Sudan. There are no service, no toilet, no drinking water. Now there is like initiatives for helping people in the airport, bringing water through water tanks and filling it. But it's not good for people to drink from it. Also, there is no food. But they were among the few lucky ones. After five days, a stranger paid for her and Fadi's

flight to the South Sudanese capital, Juba. The challenges from here are daunting, like rebuilding her and Fadi's lives and dealing with their trauma. But at least she's safe at a friend's family home. And despite her worries, I hear her laugh for the first time since the conflict started. In Juba, I'm staying with my friend. She's my friend and my colleague from the university. And she's also my sister. And we are staying in her relative's house, both of us. He's a very lovely guy.

He's also a pilot. There are like 50 people in his house, but it's a big house. So we are just like four or five people sharing the same room. And kids are all around from morning. The reporting you heard was from NPR's West African correspondent, Emmanuel Akinwotu. He tells us that Mujah Khatib and her son are still at her friend's uncle's house, and that she's found a job, working one day a week as a doctor. But she is still hoping to find more work. It's Consider This from NPR, I'm Elsa Chang.