Hunted down, black African Sudanese hide in the hills in Darfur
By ALEXANDRA ZAVIS, Associated Press Writer
ON THE SUDAN BORDER, July 09, 2004 (AP) — For six months Hawa Sabir’s family hid in the hills, foraging for food in the trees and sneaking into a nearby town at night to look for water.
Hunted down from village to village, terrified black African farmers have taken to the hills in Sudan’s violence-torn Darfur region to escape the feared Arab militias that human rights groups accuse of ethnic cleansing.
But even this last refuge is being overrun by sword- and gun-wielding horsemen known as the Janjaweed, according to refugees arriving in the Chad border town of Bahai.
“The Janjaweed kill any men they find. They rape women and take our animals,” Sabir said, resting under a tree after reaching Bahai on Wednesday night in a group of 23 refugees.
Long-simmering tensions between nomadic Arab herders and their farming neighbors exploded into violence when two black African rebel groups took up arms against the Sudanese government in February 2003 over what they consider unfair treatment in their struggle over land and water resources in Darfur.
Up to 30,000 have been killed and more than 1 million displaced in what the United Nations says is the world’s worst humanitarian crisis.
The rebel groups and refugees accuse the Sudanese government of backing the mostly Arab Janjaweed, a name that means “horsemen” in the local dialect. The government denies the charge and has promised to disarm the Janjaweed and other armed groups.
With a burst of gunfire, Sabir said, turbaned militia fighters in Sudanese military uniforms rode into her village of Abouleya, about 40 kilometers (25 miles) east of the Chad border. Three Antonov airplanes circled overhead.
“They bomb everything that moves,” said Zenab Abakar, a neighbor who escaped with Sabir into the surrounding brush.
That night, the survivors returned to find every homestead torched. So they continued to the next village, where residents helped them with a little millet, clothing and shoes for their journey into the hills around the village of Ombaro, a day and a half’s walk away.
There they lived with some 50 families, sleeping under the trees by a dried up river bed. When the millet ran out, they survived off seeds they found in the trees and softened in water before cooking.
But the only place they could find water was in Ombaro, which they said was occupied by Sudanese government forces. Fearing the young girls would be raped, the older women would sneak into the town under cover of darkness to use the well.
It was only a matter of time, however, before the Janjaweed caught up with them again. Early one morning, armed horsemen surrounded their camp, catching the families as they did their early morning prayers and built fires to make tea.
Abakar’s brother was shot in the head — one of seven people killed, she said. Four teenage girls were also abducted during the attack, other women chimed in. They have not been seen since.
The survivors moved on to another hill, but a few weeks later it happened again. This time Sabir’s son was killed.
Finally, when the last of their food ran out, three of the families decided to take their chances in Chad.
Sleeping during the day and walking at night, it took them five days to reach the border. Only the women and children attempted the journey, saying the few men still with them would be killed if they crossed paths with the Janjaweed.
Other refugees gave similar accounts, but could not say how many people in all are hiding in Darfur’s hills.
On Thursday, Sabir’s group was once again under a tree, only this time in the relative safety of Chad.
Up to 15,000 Sudanese refugees are sheltering in similar circumstances on the outskirts of this desert town. Some brought the newcomers food and water, others a mat to sleep on.
Sabir smiled with relief: “Here we don’t hear guns.”