A father's joy

Abdalla Himed is the overjoyed father I met at the UNHCR transit centre in Jamam.

Abdalla had just returned from seeing his wife and newborn twins at the hospital.

He was incredulous. A few days before, he had traveled to Jamam on a reconnaissance mission leaving his wife, the newborns, his mother-in-law and his young daughter at Elfoj, a village near the border. Now they were all here!

Abdalla could not contain his jubilation as he stepped
out of the UNHCR ambulance. His mother-in-law
was behind him.

He would remain at the transit centre with his young daughter and his mother-in-law until his wife and the twins were discharged from the hospital, which is conveniently located a few hundred yards away. 


It is called a transit centre because it is intended that refugees will stay there for at most a few days before being transferred to a formal camp which they will call home until the time comes to go back to Sudan. 


Sunday, August 19. There was an aura of domestic bliss at the transit centre that evening. Women were heading to the water pump to get their supply before closing hours.

They were part of a group of refugees ("new arrivals" in UNHCR parlance) who had been ushered into the transit centre by UNHCR staff a few days before.

Young women squatted by open wood fires preparing the evening meal of kisra, the staple food that is eaten with okra, kudra or wild vegetables.

Mothers and grandmothers played with children. 

Conspicuously, the difficulties of the journey that brought them from Sudan's Blue Nile state to Jamam were nowhere in evidence.  


Each family had already been allocated a tent. They had received food rations to last five days, by which time they should be in Gendrassa, the camp where they  would make their new homes.

The refugees had also received blankets, sleeping mats, kitchen sets, soap and mosquito nets. Those who did not feel well were treated at the nearby hospital. Each person would undergo a full medical screening when they arrived in Gendrassa.

As the sun went down, Grace and I sat with Abdalla. He gushed about the good fortune that had brought his family to Jamam. He marveled at the twist of fate that had brought his convalescing wife and newborn babies, his young daughter and his mother-in-law to Jamam. His incredulity was palpable. His joy masked the burden of his predicament. His boy children had remained in Blue Nile state, Sudan, with his aging mother  and the family livestock.

Two days before, Abdalla had arrived in Jamam from Elfoj near the border with Sudan. Elfoj is one of the main crossing points for refugees fleeing Blue Nile. 

I asked why they fled. There was no food, no sorghum, came the reply. Abdalla said there was no fighting, but hunger was troubling the people. His family had moved to Elfoj hoping to cultivate. The journey was not good. It was a big struggle.


They ate gum arabic on the way. Abdalla's wife was heavily pregnant. She was ill and very tired. She would move for one hour and then sit. She had to rest.

They had five children: three boys aged sixteen, six and four. I remarked that they were too young to have been left behind. He said they were safe with his mother. Then there was the girl aged about twelve and the newborns. 

In retrospect it occurred to me that Abdalla really did not have a choice. He had faced the frightful dilemma of deciding who to take across first. Those little boys were forced to become men while their father brought their expectant mother to safety.

I asked what they were eating. Abdalla had said there was hunger in their village. He responded that they were surviving on goats milk. His mother was taking care of them.


The long slow and very painful journey brought Abdalla, his wife and daughter to Elfoj. They joined his wife's mother who had traveled ahead in June 2012 and was living in Elfoj. It was difficult, he said having to depend on his mother-in-law, unable to provide for his family. They hoped the situation would change so they could go back home.


On 13 August Abdalla's wife gave birth to twins in Elfoj. She was still very sick.

A few days later he decided to come to Jamam.  He had been told that the UN was helping refugees in Jamam. He decided to check before moving his family. He paid money to a tractor driver who was traveling that way, and rode with 32 others--the people now residing at the transit centre with him.

That is how Abdalla came to be at the UNHCR transit centre. 

On that day, 19 August, Abdalla was informed by UNHCR staff that his wife, newborn twins, daughter and mother-in-law had been brought to Jamam by aid workers. 

When I met him, he had just returned from seeing them. The mother and babies would be in hospital for at least four weeks.

Being uprooted is among the worst things experiences one should ever have to go through. It turned Abdalla's life upside down, forced him to entrust the lives of his young children to his aged mother so that he could save the lives of the children who were yet to be born. For all the uncertainty in his life, on that day Abdalla could only marvel at his family's good fortune. 

Later he would have to rescue his three sons, his mother and his herd of goats which were his family's movable assets, leaving behind the house and the land that was his home.