The agency has had to hand over its laptops and communications equipment to the government. This will adversely affect its ability to carry out its work, which was reaching some 600,000 people across Darfur, in Khartoum state and the east of the country.
Oxfam GB estimates that its supply of clean water and other programmes can continue to be run by local communities and Oxfam-trained volunteers for a number of weeks but if its appeal to the government fails then its programme will have to close.
Oxfam GB's work in Darfur is its biggest emergency program in the world. It has operated in northern Sudan since 1983 and currently has 450 staff, 90 percent of whom are Sudanese. Oxfam is an independent, impartial non-governmental organization, with absolutely no links to the International Criminal Court. Oxfam does not have an opinion on the Court's activities, and our sole focus is meeting humanitarian and development needs in Sudan.
]]>The agency said it is appealing the decision and hopes the matter can be resolved quickly. The agency urged the government of Sudan to allow it to continue its vital humanitarian efforts, which affect hundreds of thousands of lives.
Penny Lawrence, Oxfam's international director, said, "If Oxfam Great Britain’s registration is revoked, it will affect more than 600,000 Sudanese people whom we provide with vital humanitarian and development aid, including clean water and sanitation on a daily basis. 400,000 of them are affected by the ongoing conflict in Darfur, where people continue to flee from violence, and the humanitarian needs remain enormous. It will also affect another 200,000 poor people in the east of the country and Khartoum state."
Oxfam Great Britain has operated in northern Sudan since 1983 and currently has 450 staff, 90% of whom are Sudanese. Oxfam is an independent, impartial non-governmental organization, with absolutely no links to the International Criminal Court. Oxfam does not have an opinion on the Court's activities, and our sole focus is meeting humanitarian and development needs in Sudan.
]]>Known as UNAMID, and approved by the UN Security Council 18 months ago, the force today stands at less than 60 percent of its 26,000 members. It remains woefully short of basic equipment and specialized training. Only three of its expected 19 armed police units have been deployed, and the force is still waiting for the 24 rapid response helicopters it needs to monitor the vast Darfur region. The promise the UN Security Council made to the people of Darfur has not been kept. That UNAMID, one year after its deployment, is still so short of troops and equipment, is an indictment of the international community's response to the crisis in Darfur.
Many communities report feeling most afraid and at risk during the night when armed men routinely harass and intimidate civilians. Yet in most locations, UNAMID personnel are only present during the daytime. Efforts to establish a permanent presence, 24 hours a day and seven days a week, in locations such as Kalma camp in South Darfur are welcome, but they urgently need to be replicated elsewhere.
While UNAMID is seriously under-strength, it has shown that it can still have some impact with the resources it has—if it prioritizes effective protection activities. For example, women regularly face attacks and harassment when they go out to collect firewood or go to market. When UNAMID has carried out patrols to accompany them, women have reported feeling considerably safer and much less vulnerable to attack in some areas. However, these protection patrols are still not happening nearly often enough, and in many locations not at all, even in areas where UNAMID has deployed substantial troop numbers. UNAMID must prioritize such patrols, as well as patrols along main roads to secure the delivery of vital humanitarian aid to people in need.
A full strength UNAMID can make a real improvement in people's lives—if world leaders have the political will to make it succeed. The international community must ensure that UNAMID is fully deployed and supported as soon as possible.
There is still time to make UNAMID a success, but that time is running out. UNAMID itself has come under attack and 12 peacekeepers have been killed. Every day that passes with UNAMID unable to deliver the protection that civilians expect is another day that UNAMID risks further losing the support of the very people it is supposed to assist.
The international community is repeating the same mistakes it made with UNAMID's predecessor, the African Union Mission in Sudan, or AMIS. Initially, AMIS made a positive impact when it was deployed. But it was never given the troops, equipment, or support that it needed. AMIS was left demoralized, rejected by most Darfur residents, and unable to protect itself from violent attacks. UNAMID must not be allowed to suffer the same fate.
But UNAMID alone is not the solution to the Darfur conflict, no matter how large the force is. Peacekeepers cannot succeed without some sort of peace to keep, and UNAMID cannot be a substitute for sustainable peace. All parties must be pressured to immediately cease hostilities and return to the peace process.
]]>In the DRC, increasing violence has forced people to flee from their homes, and led to the deaths of almost 1,500 people a day. Though no other conflict causes that kind of death rate, Oxfam's workers hear similar stories of murder, rape, and displacement from men and women from Colombia to Sudan every day. Sixty years after the main Geneva Conventions enshrined civilians' rights to protection, they are violated in every current conflict.
Some states and non-state actors choose to kill civilians, or pursue strategies in which civilians are too likely to die. Some governments choose to protect their citizens: to keep them safe. Some do not protect all of them, or not well enough. There are, however, successful examples of protecting civilians that show what governments and others can do when they choose to.
They have an interest in protecting civilians, because mass atrocities fuel the conflicts that, in an interdependent world, create security threats that cannot be contained. And an increasing number of governments have a "moral interest" too, because their electorates expect them to help prevent, not just condemn, the atrocities they see beamed around the world through modern information technology.
To do so, they need to make four key changes.
In early 2003, two rebel groups—the Sudan Liberation Army (SLA) and the Justice and Equality Movement (JEM)—both from Sudan's western region of Darfur, launched major offensives on government bases there. The rebels claimed that Darfur had suffered decades of political marginalization and economic neglect from the Sudanese government in Khartoum. Government forces responded and the fighting escalated. Arab militia, commonly known as Janjaweed and widely believed to be supported by the government, attacked villages, forcing inhabitants from their homes—particularly in those villages and among ethnic groups thought to be sympathetic to the rebels. Now, those rebel groups have splintered into numerous factions and the situation is growing increasingly complex.
Estimates of the total number of people killed vary widely. The Government of Sudan pegs the figure at 10,000, while many activists say the true amount is up to 400,000. Most reports say around 200,000. Violence is one cause of death. Many people have also died from illness and malnutrition—particularly early in the crisis. Since then, the enormous humanitarian response has stabilized conditions in the camps, but renewed insecurity is threatening this progress, and the large-scale displacement of people across Darfur is continuing. Already this year more than 200,000 people have abandoned their homes in the face of ongoing attacks.
Some of Darfur's camps for displaced people are the size of small cities—teeming with tens of thousands of people, many of them having been there so long that they have replaced their makeshift shelters with homes of mudbrick.. But unlike cities in the western world, these dense settlements have no modern conveniences. Pit latrines and water faucets are all communal. Food is cooked over open fires. At night, it's dark. There is no electricity.
Shortages of basic necessities add to the tedium of days spent with little for people to do. For many stranded in camps far from their villages, fields, and pastureland, life has become one long wait—for food rations, for limited amounts of water, for peace. Because of attacks on its convoys, the World Food Program, which helps to feed more than 3 million people in the region, cut rations in half in May and threatened again in early September to suspend some deliveries. In July,2008, about 50,000 people got no food aid at all because of ongoing insecurity. And now, there are fears that malnutrition is rising again.
But leaving the camps is not an option. Many people no longer have homes to return to: The fighting has reduced their villages to ashes. And venturing beyond the perimeter of the camps exposes people to attack. There are continual reports of women being beaten or sexually assaulted when they leave to collect wood for their cooking fires or fodder for their animals.
Almost daily attacks—including vehicles being hijacked, aid workers assaulted, offices robbed—have made it increasingly difficult for humanitarian groups to meet the needs of some of the more than four million people across the region who need help. Darfur is a dangerous, and deadly, place to work.
More than five years after the conflict first erupted, millions of people continue to live in fear without adequate protection—even after the United Nations Security Council passed a resolution more than twelve months ago approving the deployment of the largest peacekeeping force in the world. Known as UNAMID, the force is meant to have 26,000 military officers, police officers, and civilian personnel. But by September, 2008, only a little more than a third of that force is now at work in Darfur—less than 10,000 troops—and they are short of not only things like helicopters, but some of the most basic equipment, too. Troops have been painting their helmets blue—the color the United Nations uses—because there are not enough UN helmets to go around. And forces can't go out on long patrols because they don't have enough ration packs to support those missions.
The international community has failed the people of Darfur by not giving UNAMID the support it promised. Countries around the world are responsible for the delays in deploying the troops and providing for their needs. The ongoing violence—perpetrated by the Sudanese government, rebel groups, and militias—is also hampering deployment. The logistical challenge is enormous in bringing large numbers of troops and equipment from Port Sudan across 1,000 miles of rough terrain—some of it without roads. And the UN's own lengthy procedures slow the works down, too. But Sudan has agreed to the force and it?s up to the international community to work with the government to ensure the troops are deployed.
UNAMID, however, is only part of the solution. A ceasefire and a return to peace talks are also essential.
The crisis in Darfur can't be resolved in isolation from other conflicts and tension roiling the region. There is violence in Chad and the Central African Republic. The peace in South Sudan is fragile. UNAMID is not the only peacekeeping force in the region. It needs to coordinate closely with others as any change in security in this part of the world could trigger large movements of people across borders. The peacekeepers must plan together to address the safety of everyone.
]]>A crowded camp sheltering 25,000 people from the horrific violence of Darfur's five-year-old conflict may seem an unlikely venue, but this is no ordinary pop concert. The tunes are traditional, but the lyrics talk of hygiene and explain how people can avoid fatal diseases. Kaltoum is one of a dozen women who have teamed up with Oxfam to hold weekly music festivals in Shangil Tobai in North Darfur. The concerts bring an afternoon of fun to people who have had fled attacks on nearby villages—but they educate as well as entertain.
"Singing is a part of our lives and we like to sing whenever and wherever we can," says Omer, sipping a small glass of extra sweet tea after the concert ends. "We enjoy it, and the people listening enjoy it, but most importantly our singing now helps change people's lives for the better."
"We take Oxfam's advice about good health and sanitation and put it to our own music," she continues. "You can see the songs changing listeners' behavior. The camp is much cleaner now and there are far fewer cases of malaria and diarrhea. Children wash their hands now without being told. When you tell young children to wash they don't always do as they're asked—but when we sing it to them they join in and have fun, and they really pay attention."
The songs change over time to reflect the needs in the camp, adds Zaharisa, another member of the group. "We used to sing about the need to clean the latrines regularly, but now people are doing this well so we no longer have to sing about it. At the moment my favourite song tells people how to safely and hygienically dispose of waste and get rid of rubbish."
Zainab Basher, an Oxfam health promoter in Shangil Tobai, helps the women organize the concerts. She says the impact has been enormous.
"We hear women and children singing the songs at home and work, and the communities keep asking us when the next performance will be," says Basher. "Now the women perform at weddings and religious festivals, as well as the weekly concerts. Each community has its favorite singers, and keeping latrines and water points clean has become a source of pride. Everyone wants to keep their area of the camp the cleanest. Participation in regular clean-up campaigns has increased greatly."
As the conflict has dragged on five long years, Basher says she and the Oxfam team have had to adapt their work. "We held committee meetings, we visited people's homes, and we trained individuals to become community health mobilizers, but the longer people are here in the camp, the more these methods become routine and ineffective. We needed something new and exciting, so we approached the women singers and they were very keen to help."
The concerts are held in different areas of the camp each week, attracting an audience of hundreds each time.
"We want as many people to hear the songs as possible," says Omer. "Oxfam gives us megaphones for the concerts, to make them louder. The next step is to get cassette recorders to tape the concerts, which we can hand out as gifts to neighbours and relatives so people can listen to the messages at home. Not everyone can sing but we still want to involve them somehow. Some of the women who can't sing are good at playing drums, while others help us write the lyrics."
All over the world, children like to imitate their favourite pop stars. Darfur is no different, and Kaltoum and the women have inspired a new generation of singers who meet every week at the Oxfam health centers in the camp. One popular chorus goes:
"Let us go to school to read,
Let us learn to be healthy,
Let us clean ourselves,
All children, let us do this."
Manahir, a 15-year-old girl from the camp, leads a group of children aged 5 to 16. Some sing, some bang on small drums, and others just clap and cheer. A chant of "clean the jerry can, clean the latrine" gradually gets faster and the drums louder, until the children lose their breath and burst into applause.
"We have great fun, and we learn at the same time," says Manahir. "My friends and I come to the center every day from all over the camp."
Nearby, as the women's concert reaches its finale, another singer named Mahasa takes the megaphone and leads a chorus in praise of Basher and the Oxfam team's recent distribution of blankets and jerry cans for carrying water.
"We thank the aid agencies and the people around the world who send us these things when we have nothing," she says. "If they didn't help us we wouldn't be able to stay here in the camp. We'd have to go home and be attacked all over again."
]]>Melinda worked on Oxfam's Darfur response from the beginning of 2004 until the middle of 2005, and returned again at the start of 2007.
"A woman came up to me in tears and described how her village had been attacked by militia and she had watched her child burn alive. That was four years ago, shortly after I arrived in Darfur, but I still remember it vividly today.
Then, the conflict was at its height with violent burning and looting of villages and mass displacement of hundreds of thousands of people. The first time I went to Kalma camp in South Darfur it was just a piece of wasteland, with the earliest arrivals taking shelter under plastic bags and twigs. We went to assess the conditions there and we thought the area could shelter 27,000 people at most. Little did we imagine that Kalma would eventually provide refuge for over 100,000 people, or that over two million would in time live in such camps across Darfur. Nor did people expect the camps would still be here now. They were only expected to be short-term.
Oxfam's initial response focused on providing water and sanitation. In a major humanitarian crisis, toilets are not always the first things that spring to people's minds! But they are incredibly important. In the early days, women in the camps kept stopping me and telling me what they really needed were toilets. The women had nowhere private to go so they had to wait until dark—which exposed them to the risk of violence. We were also very worried that diseases such as cholera would spread quickly in the new, crowded camps without proper sanitation. The conditions in Kalma camp at that time were horrific.
One of my proudest moments in Darfur was in early 2004 when we constructed the first trench latrine in Kalma. It was like a festival, with young children watching bemused and amazed as their mothers joined in and helped dig the pits. Although the latrine was just a simple pit with some plastic slabs, we all knew it was such a big step towards making people safe.
When I left Darfur in mid-2005 people were optimistic that the conflict might end soon. It was a shock to come back 18 months later and find no progress. The conflict has changed, but not improved. There are fewer attacks on civilians now, but there is little left to attack. Many villages have already been burned : They can't be destroyed twice. It is still far too dangerous for people to go home. Meanwhile, security for aid workers is much worse than it was before and it is getting harder and harder for us to operate.
Oxfam's work in Darfur has changed enormously over the five years. At first, we were just trying to keep people alive another day by delivering aid as quickly as possible to people who had lost absolutely everything. But now, as the situation has changed and the conflict goes on, our work has had to change, too. If someone has had no access to their farmland for the last five years, how can they support their family? People do not expect to leave the camps anytime soon, so we are working more to provide them with livelihood opportunities to earn an income.
If there is an end to the conflict soon there will be enormous challenges to overcome. People are still clinging to their last hopes for peacekeepers who can protect them. But they have been hoping for this for the past five years and patience is running out.
Resolving the Darfur conflict will need to incorporate Darfuri traditions, but also look to the future. Traditional mechanisms such as compensation for the people who have had families killed and homes burned and looted, are crucial to any sustainable peace deal, yet are often overlooked and misunderstood by international mediators. But so much has changed now and we can't just go back to how things were in Darfur before the conflict.
There are new challenges. Compared to 20 years ago, there are now far more people and animals competing for dwindling land and resources, and there is far less rainfall. Traditional nomadic lifestyles are under threat from the changing environment and urbanization, as many people now only feel safe near big towns. Darfur needs responsible and representative government to create new policies to deal with these changes. All this needs to be addressed if a solution is to be found."
Hussaam started work with Oxfam in early 2004 and has been part of our Darfur response ever since, working in camps and villages throughout Darfur.
"I began working with Oxfam just as humanitarian organizations started scaling up the response to the enormous needs in the camps here. I had just graduated from university and my first job was drawing pictures for Oxfam to use in campaigns to educate people in camps about staying healthy. The pictures were used in camps all over Darfur, and since then I've worked for Oxfam in six different camps and towns.
One of my proudest achievements over these years was our fight against cholera in Gereida camp—the biggest in Darfur sheltering over 120,000 people. Most of them arrived during just a few months in 2006. The camp grew rapidly, conditions were very basic, and there were very few organizations working there. We worked with the other aid agencies and with the community itself. It was one huge effort, but together we succeeded and nobody died of cholera.
Now the conflict has been going so many years we have to be more innovative in our work. People have heard our health messages many times—we can't just keep visiting homes and telling them the same thing over and over again. We have to find new ways to get our messages across—working with youth groups, teachers and religious leaders to educate people through music, drama, art, and at prayer sessions in the mosques.
The security problems have made things increasingly difficult over the years. It was hugely disappointing that after all our good work in Gereida, we had to close our office there because of attacks on our staff members. We worked there in a very close team and we wanted to expand our work into the rural areas and villages nearby. It was terrible that we had to pull out—but the insecurity made it impossible to continue."
Mahmoud joined Oxfam in North Darfur in early 2004 as a public health worker in Abu Shouk camp, before becoming assistant program manager of Oxfam's work in Kebkabiya. He now works in close liaison with all our field offices throughout the region.
"When we started work in Abu Shouk camp, it was like a desert. There were no water sources, no food, nothing. We dug wells and latrines and set up sanitation systems, but most of the people arriving from the villages didn't know how to use the latrines. We had to teach them. After just a few months they quickly learned and there was a big improvement in the camp.
It has been great to see the community learning and taking responsibility. At first there were lots of Oxfam staffers: The community just didn't know what to do and they needed us to show them. Now we have fewer staff in the camp, as communities participate much more and are now able to manage their own facilities.
Abu Shouk today is totally different from then. It is much more organized, and people have much more water and assistance. As the conflict goes on, people's security is still a huge issue, but many of their other concerns have changed over the five years. Earlier, people were focused on how to get food and water. Their aim was just to survive another day. Now people are thinking longer term—how to give their kids an education, how to build houses, and how to earn an income. We are constantly developing our programs to meet these needs and make sure that our work really benefits people.
There have been so many achievements to be proud of over the past five years. Most of all, I am proud of how Oxfam is perceived by local communities throughout Darfur. They know there is no political agenda to our work, and that we try and work with whichever communities need assistance—no matter what their tribe. My biggest regret is that the great work we have done in remote villages around Kebkabiya has been so limited because of the security situation, which makes it too dangerous for us to leave the town. I hope things improve so we can work in more villages again as well as in the camps."
]]>This is where Asewe stays when she's in Goz Beida, a small town in eastern Chad whose outskirts are now flooded with about 52,000 people forced from their villages by factional fighting. But when it's safe, her home is a tent at Kerfi, one of several sites in the area that the displaced Chadians have temporarily settled.
"That's what my beneficiaries are using," says Asewe about her tent. "It's good to use what my beneficiaries are using."
It's there, at Kerfi, that Asewe likes to be best—in the midst of the people she has come to help. A registered nurse and trained midwife, she is a public health promoter for Oxfam, leading a team of three staffers and a committee of 15. Her job is to work closely with families, showing them how to prevent the spread of waterborne diseases. A musical voice, a warm smile, and an untempered passion are her tools.
Asewe came to this region of Chad in mid-July 2007—at the height of the rainy season—her second posting to the country in a long humanitarian career that has carried her around the world from the tsunami-ravaged coast of Indonesia to Afghanistan, Pakistan, Sierra Leone, Ethiopia and back to Chad. It was raining that first time here, too, back in 2004 when refugees from the Darfur region of Sudan were streaming across the border, many of them having walked for days to reach safety.
She was assigned to Bredjing, a camp that now has a population of close to 30,000 people. But back then, it was just beginning to grow, a chaotic sprawl of families, ragged and tired, desperate for food, water, and shelter.
"It was a very difficult situation. Every morning we would come and we would find at least 100 people, towards the wadi, just squatting around," recalls Asewe. "Some would come with small plastic sheets. Some would have traditional mats, but some would have literally nothing. It would be raining the whole night. The children would have literally nothing on top of their heads."
Many of them didn't survive.
"They put in their own graveyard. Every morning organizations like Doctors Without Borders had outreach people just to count how many graves. Yes. So it was very very painful when they first came."
For nine months, Asewe worked with Oxfam, and alongside other organizations, to bring some order to the camp.
"I left happy, though," she says, "because I had seen the beginning and I saw all the changes—everybody putting in a lot of effort." Besides getting water and sanitation services in place, aid groups had even managed to set up activities for children. And the overcrowding was relieved a bit when some of the refugees moved to a new camp—one that was planned for them in advance, so water systems and latrines were already in place.
For the first few weeks of her posting to Kerfi, about 45 kilometers south of Goz Beida, Asewe couldn't even get there. The heavy seasonal rain had swollen the seasonal river, or wadi, swamping parts of the village, and making it impossible for trucks to cross. The short drive from Goz Beida to Kerfi took six or seven hours through the rain, as drivers struggled to negotiate the mud and gushing streams.
Doctors Without Borders was the only aid organization working in Kerfi at the time, said Asewe and it had managed to get there before the rains began to fall. It had parked two of its trucks on the far side of the wadi rushing by the village.
Eventually, workers built a small raft from old drums. An Oxfam driver would deliver Asew to the wadi's edge, and she would float across, her feet dangling in the water, to catch a ride on the other side in a Doctors Without Borders truck.
"We did that until September," Asewe said. "We were not able to get a driver across until October so that delayed all the possibilities."
But once she was able to set foot in Kerfi, Asewe wasted no time in laying the groundwork for her program.
In crowded situations, where there is little room for people and their animals to live as they are accustomed, the spread of waterborne diseases poses a major threat. In December Kerfi was home home to more than 3,000 displaced people—on top of the 4,200 who were already living there.
"The major issue was there was a lot of wadi water, but no clean water," said Asewe, noting that Doctors Without Borders was treating numerous cases of diarrhea. "It was pathetic. The host community, having been completely surrounded, also lost the area they would use for extra space. Their main complaint was they hardly had any place to get their animals to graze." Nor did they have any place left to use as a bathroom.
"Hence the demand for latrines and water," says Asewe.
In convincing people to adopt new ways of doing things, it's important to make them part of the process—so they own it, too. But first, Asewe has to find out what they know, and in this case, it quickly became clear that people were not making the link between the dirty wadi water they were relying on the diarrhea they were suffering from.
"That gives you a key basis where to start," says Asewe.
She organized a development committee of nine women and eight men from Kerfi who would eventually help her with the big task of public education. After some training, together they settled on three main messages they needed to convey to the community.
The messages may sound simple to western ears, but for the residents and displaced people of Kerfi, they could mean the difference between life and death.
Here is what the health promotion committee and Asewe want the people of Kerfi to do:
Part of Asewe's public education program also includes granting families ownership of community latrines—along with cleaning and maintenance duties. About 20 people share each latrine. When a cluster of three or four have been built for people who are under the care of one chief, Asewe arranges for a handover ceremony, with plans made for who's going to keep the latrines clean and how they'll close them down when they're full. And with each latrine, Oxfam provides a latrine kit—a brush and bucket for cleaning.
Some people get the messages very quickly; others are slower to change.
"The best people to target are the children," says Asewe. They learn quickly and adapt readily. "For adults, they may be able to understand, but changing habits may not be so easy."
But whatever the frustrations may be—wadis overflowing with water, insecurity that keeps her tied to Goz Beida, the slow pace of people's adaptation—Asewe says none of that is enough to snuff out the enthusiasm she has for this work.
"I'm still so happy to be the public health promoter who goes to that little house and finds the child and plays around with them and see how you could improve their little lives," says Asewe. "That makes me more happy. It's quite an opportunity and a blessing."
]]>There can be no way forward for Darfur until all parties to the conflict stop fighting and stop attacks on civilians. Yet, at the moment, the violence continues, causing untold misery for millions of people—with thousands more attacked and fleeing their homes every week the conflict goes on. People across the world must let their politicians know that the suffering of so many Darfur citizens will be tolerated no longer. The international community must put greater sustained pressure on all parties to immediately cease hostilities and return to the negotiating table.
For five years the world has promised the people of Darfur that it will protect them from violence—yet there is still no peacekeeping force capable of giving civilians the protection they need and deserve. The new United Nations-African Union force, known as UNAMID, deployed at the start of 2008 but is still woefully under strength, with only a third of its 26,000 personnel on the ground and a lack of equipment, training, and political backing. The force urgently needs more international support. Getting UNAMID on the ground took 18 months of enormous political effort, but this will be wasted unless the force is made strong enough to actually protect people.
The humanitarian response in Darfur is among the largest in the world and has had an enormous impact on people’s lives. Early in the crisis, large numbers of people died of malnutrition and disease, but over time the mortality rates have been cut and people now have greatly improved access to vital services such as water, food, and healthcare. Yet daily targeted attacks on humanitarian workers are making Darfur an increasingly dangerous and difficult place to work. Oxfam’s staffers are still managing to assist over 400,000 people – but it is becoming ever harder to do so. The international community must ensure that all the many parties to the conflict respect international humanitarian law and allow aid to reach those who desperately need it.
Despite the vast humanitarian effort and the need for a stronger protection force, the only sustainable solution to the conflict is a political one. The peace process has stalled again recently and world leaders must provide sustained, coordinated leadership to reinvigorate efforts to unite the countless factions and bring all parties back to negotiations. Greater effort must be made to ensure such talks are truly representative of the people of Darfur, by increasing the involvement of civil society and marginalized groups, and reflecting the needs and concerns of all Darfur’s many ethnic groups.
While soldiers and militia fight, it is the ordinary people of Darfur who suffer. They want nothing more than an end to the conflict and to be able to get back to their normal lives – but they need our help to make this happen. People all over the world can help ensure their political leaders do not allow attention on Darfur to fade after five years. Darfur must not be allowed to become yet another “forgotten crisis.” To do so would condemn millions of its people to years more suffering.
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