Sudan’s Unspeakable Choices: A Mother’s Anguish in Wartime

Touma, a 25-year-old mother, sits in a crowded malnutrition ward, her infant daughter Masajed listlessly in her arms. The scene at Bashaer Hospital, one of the few still functioning in Khartoum, is heartbreakingly common. Children, weakened by hunger and conflict, fight for survival, their mothers watching helplessly.

Forced to flee their home due to the escalating conflict between the Sudanese army and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), Touma’s family lost everything – their savings, their livestock, and their sense of security. “We escaped with only our lives,” she recounts, the memory of their comfortable past, filled with milk and dates, a stark contrast to their current destitution.

Sudan is in the throes of a severe humanitarian crisis, with millions of children under five facing acute malnutrition. Bashaer Hospital provides free basic care, but essential, life-saving medicines are not. Touma’s twins, Masajed and Manahil, both arrived in critical condition, but the family could only afford the medicine for one child. The impossible choice fell to Touma: she chose Manahil, leaving Masajed to fade away.

“I just want them both to get better,” Touma whispers, cradling her dying daughter, her voice breaking with grief. “I am alone. I have nothing. I have only God.” The grim reality for the children in this ward is that survival is unlikely, a stark testament to the war’s devastating impact on innocent lives.

The conflict, which erupted in April 2023, has turned Khartoum into a battlefield, displacing countless families and shattering the normalcy of childhood. Twelve-year-old Zaher, who lost both legs to a drone strike, now navigates the debris-strewn streets in a wheelchair. He dreams of prosthetic legs to play football again, a simple wish that remains out of reach due to his mother Habibah’s inability to afford them.

Habibah recounts the terror of living under RSF control, the constant fear, and the drone strike that changed their lives forever. The memory of Zaher’s legs being amputated and his tearful question, “Why did you let them cut my legs?” haunts her. Despite the trauma, Zaher finds solace in football and the support of his friends, clinging to moments of joy amidst the despair.

Ahmed, a 16-year-old, works at a destroyed playground, clearing debris for a meager wage, a stark reminder of the lives lost. He has found human remains and carries the trauma of the war, having lost contact with his own brothers. His simple wish is for a future, but the constant fear has made him believe he is destined to die.

In makeshift classrooms set up by volunteers, children like Zaher’s classmates find a semblance of normalcy, learning and laughing. However, the war’s psychological toll is evident, with children exhibiting anxiety and using language reflecting the violence they’ve witnessed. Despite the hardship, the resilience of Sudan’s children shines through, finding fleeting moments of happiness in simple acts like playing football.

The war has not only destroyed homes and lives but also childhood itself, leaving a generation grappling with trauma and uncertainty. Zaher’s dream of walking and playing football again, a dream shattered by the conflict, underscores the profound need for peace and recovery in Sudan.