| It was 4 a.m. one day in early August when Bashir Ismael's wife left their home for the local market in western Sudan's Darfur region. It was the last time he saw his wife alive.
Within an hour of her departure, Arab militiamen, known as Janjaweed, attacked his village of Sileya. More than 100 mounted militiamen fired on his village, he said.
"We had no chance to resist. Our people left with nothing; all of our animals were killed," Ismael said in a late-August interview in the Kounoungo refugee camp in northeastern Chad.
About 240 people from his village and other parts of Darfur arrived Aug. 26 at the Kounoungo camp, joining about 12,000 other Sudanese. The camp is managed by the Chadian Caritas office, known by its French acronym, Secadev.
The group of men sitting with Ismael
under a U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees tent estimated
that at least 42 people from their village were killed in
the attack. A fellow villager confirmed for Ismael that his
wife was among those dead.
Among
the missing are Ismael's three children, separated in the
chaos of the attack. He refused to accept that his children
could be among those dead and said he believes another villager
took them to safety to another camp, in Darfur or in Chad.
"I do not know where my children are, but I am sure my children are somewhere where I will find them," he said.
Ismael said the attack occurred while most villagers were
asleep. The Janjaweed arrived on camels and appeared to be
singling out men and young boys, he said. Those that escaped
the militia were then attacked by Sudanese soldiers in vehicles.
"First they came on camels and circled
the village, then they came in vehicles. Those who ran, cars
went after them and shot them down. If you run fast you can
save your life," he said.
Ismael
said villagers knew a campaign of ethnic violence against
black Africans in Darfur had been occurring for the past year,
but they did not flee earlier because their village had never
been attacked or threatened. The early August attack, he said,
occurred "without warning."
"We were attacked because we are black; there is no other
reason," he said.
U.S. government officials have accused Sudan of genocide in Darfur.
Omar Hussein lifted his traditional Muslim dress to show wounds in both his legs made by a single bullet. Hussein, who now walks with a cane and says he is in great pain, was carried to safety by his neighbors following the attack on Foucha, a village in west Darfur.
He fled to a camp on the Chad-Sudan border, where he developed a high fever as a result of the bullet wounds. Eventually, U.N. workers brought him to Kounoungo, where he received medical treatment.
Refugees expressed bewilderment at the violence being led
by the Arab militiamen.
"We never before had this problem,"
said Abdullah Abdulaye, a resident of the Farchana camp, also
operated by Secadev.
"For me there is no Janjaweed, there is only the government. They are using the Janjaweed for their own ideas," he said.
Asair
Mohammed Asair, a resident of Kounoungo, said he was lucky
to escape the attack on his village of Ambaro in northern
Darfur. Asair, 25, said if he returns to Darfur "They will
kill me."
"There is no need to belong to a political party. You are either black or Arab. If you are black and in their way, you are finished," he said.
Asair said the attack on his village was well planned. First, government planes dropped bombs, causing villagers to flee their homes. Then militiamen on camelback raided the village, targeting mostly men.
Those that escaped the carnage had Sudanese soldiers waiting
for them on the outskirts of the village.
"Several of my neighbors were killed in front of my eyes," he said.
"When you leave, you grab your children
and nothing else. We lost all of our belongings. But in our
Muslim tradition, we have to accept our fate," he said.
Asair
said the black Africans in his village had never had problems
with their Arab neighbors in the past.
"We grew up among each other; black and Arab children attend the same schools. The Janjaweed are not the people; they work for the government; they are an arm of the government," he said.
Adam Isaac Djongor, a thin, elderly Sudanese, pulled back his shirt to show the wound from where a bullet grazed his chest. He said the force of the bullet was so powerful that it knocked him off his feet. When he regained consciousness, a militiaman carrying a club stood over him.
"When he saw I was not dead, he started hitting me in the leg," he said. The attack left Djongor's leg slightly deformed. He now walks with a limp.
Many men among the 200,000 Sudanese refugees in Chad show the physical signs of the Sudanese government's campaign of ethnic cleansing. There are many amputees or those with deformed limbs resulting from bullet wounds and beatings.
But there are also many Sudanese refugees suffering from emotional wounds, showing signs of extreme trauma, explained Jesuit Father Franco Jacuzzi, who has started a program assisting disabled refugees.
"It's hard to imagine what these people have lived through. They have trauma, depression. But what can we do? There are no therapists in refugee camps," he said.
Adam Abdallah spoke in a monotone and stared at the ground as he described how his village of Bahr-Saliba was attacked. He said the entire village was burned to the ground and that the Janjaweed looted every home.
"They
killed many people," he said.
The refugees that arrived in Kounoungo were among 7,000 Sudanese to arrive in Chad during August, a sharp increase over the past several months, said Eduardo Cue, spokesman for the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees in eastern Chad.
"This indicates that they're running out of food, that their animals have died or were stolen," Cue said.
Recent U.N. predictions suggest that up to 100,000 new refugees from Sudan are expected to arrive in Chad before the end of 2004.
CNS Assistant International Editor Stephen Steele traveled
to Chad in August and September to cover the situation of
Sudanese refugees fleeing the violence in Darfur.
To assist in relief efforts in Sudan, financial donations
can be made to Catholic Relief Services/Sudan Relief, c/o
Office of Justice and Peace, Archdiocese of Los Angeles, 3424
Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90010.
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