This week the Obama Administration has brought together key signatories and over 30 countries in Washington to discuss the fate of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) in Sudan. John Norris, Executive Director of ENOUGH Project, noted recently, “One of the key problems with the CPA to date has been the fact that the parties to the CPA, particularly President Bashir’s National Congress Party, have not faced any cost from the international community for a failure to implement key provisions of the agreement. Unless that changes, conflict in Sudan will only intensify.”


We cannot allow this to happen. The US must be a leader in the international community. After meeting the beautiful people of Darfur, we are responsible to act. While these important leaders are in Washington, take action:


1. Call you member of Congress through the Capitol switchboard at 202.225.3121.Urge them to hold hearings on Sudan and continue to make this issue a high priority for Congress.


2. Sign the open letter to President Obama encouraging his administration to address the immediate humanitarian crisis in Darfur and to achieve long term peace through a political solution for all of Sudan.


Read more about the CPA and Sudan by ENOUGH.

I know the name of three.  I feel bad that I did not ask the name of the fourth.  Marymouda is the last one.  The first and second were Issa and Abrahim.  The third died on his mother’s back, as she, Adef and remaining siblings escaped from Darfur.  They have lost four children in six years.  Who’s counting?  Someone should be held accountable.

We have a days rest in Abeche before three of our team members move on to Guereda where Camp Kounoungo is located, and one, Eric, begins is several day journey back to Los Angeles. It doesn’t seem like a break. I feel more restless today then any other day since our arrival in Chad. There are any number of tasks that I could be doing, but instead I click through pictures in iPhoto, allowing myself to be transported back to our friends in Camp Djabal.


Abdelmouni, now three years old, is Adef’s serious young man. The giggles and almost consistent smile Bashar, Bashir, and Guisma get from Achta. Adef and Abdelmouni, although they have great laughs too, are more serious and stern. In almost every picture Abdelmouni’s “look” is captured. Only a tickle on the neck or showing him his picture on the camera will get him to giggle. His three older siblings catch the contagious laughter. I wonder what Gbryl (prounounced Ge-briel) will be like. Will he too have a contagious laugh.


I think about the pain that Achta and Adef must feel after losing four of their children. Guisma is the only girl they have left; of nine children that she has birthed. Nine.  Their oldest son, Abrahim, would be 18 years old, the next oldest would be 15. Instead, it is Bashar and Bashir at 8 years old. They were only 3 when they fled their homeland. I wonder what they remember, if anything.


Achta has a great scar on her arm. It is raised with two large oval scars meeting like tips of tear drops touching with another straight scar that is perpendicular. I slowly pass my fingers over them and ask her what happened. Our translator has not arrived. Adef simply points at his wife’s arm, makes a gesture like he shooting an AK-47, and says, “Janjaweed.” Today Achta’s arm still hurts as she bears the scars of gun shot wounds and perhaps more painful, the scars of losing four children.


I don’t know how Achta and Adef feel. But when we ask them what they hope for and what they need, it is always the same. They want justice in order for peace. And they want their children to be educated so Darfur and Sudan will be stronger because of the next generation.

We’re sitting in a hut in the middle of camp with a group of men, talking war, politics, and pain. It is hot, and there are flies everywhere, the kind of flies that think nothing of swatting.  It is only the men and us, no children and no laughing.  One of them, soft-spoken and wearing their traditional head-scarf that protects them from heat and sand in the desert, starts listing all the attempts at negotiations between rebels and Khartoum government and all the signed agreements–all failed and unkept.  Do they, Khartoum, really want to find a peaceful solution? “No, they want all blacks out of Darfur.”


Another even more serious looking man and even more soft-spoken, looks at me straight in the eyes and keeps that eye connection the whole time he speaks–no blinking.  We are only about seven feet away, and I feel uncomfortable–I am not sure why, but it must be that, with the look, he is telling me “Now you know.  You are responsible.”  He is dressed in safari green pants and long-sleeve shirt–very clean and neat.  “Justice.  Without justice there is no peace.  If you start with justice, peace follows.  Then we can go home.”


We leave the hut and follow the serious man in green, walking all the way to the other side of the camp.  He has us sit in a much cooler hut than the one before, and there are no flies.  His wife joins us and is carrying a beautiful 20 days old boy.  “His name is Obama.”

Today was our last day in Camp Djabal. I already miss them all and it has only been hours. I don’t know when I will be able to come back to Camp Djabal. I fear it will be longer than I want, and that the conditions of the camp will be worse. It makes me sad to think that some may not even make it until our team returns.


In the camp this morning, the sun beat down on the sand, and our backs as we weaved through the straw made alleyways searching for Adef and Achta. We asked one tall man, who smiled, pointed and began to walk beside us.


We soon found our family. I feel very close to Adef and Achta. For about an hour we exchanged with gestures before a translator came. Without words, Achta knew what I was trying to tell the children and she helped direct them. I distributed pens and paper for the children, and a book for their family. Abdelmouni is becoming a little man, still serious, but when he laughs it is the loud giggle of his sister and brothers. I feel so close to them, as if they are part of my own family.  In many ways, they are.


They don’t ask for much. Many people I know would be asking for so much if they were in a situation that the refugees, or even IDPs from Chad, were in. I think because we have grown up in such a rich country there is a sense of entitlement to having things, to having everything. Not so much here. What they want is education, justice, and peace. Justice so that Peace will come and Education so they can help lead their country.


These are simple concepts that will require effort on the part of the international community. Skilled mediators, Financial Support. Disarmament. Arrest warrants acted on. Educational support through trainings, supplies, and infrastructure. These are things we in America take for granted most of the time. These are things that will help ensure that little Abdelmouni, Guisma, Bashir and Beshar grow up having some chance at leading fulfilling lives. The kind of life we expect to be handed to us.


Maybe I am being to harsh on the country I grew up in. I may be acting on pure emotional response to the serious eyes of a three year old and a laugh of a young girl that used to roar and now rarely giggles. And I know that there are people throughout the world who are suffering, like those who have been injured or killed fighting for democracy in Iran. I know that Darfur and Chad are not the only places where people are seeking peace, justice, education and participation in the leadership of their people.


I just know personally that if I don’t work harder to bring peace and justice to Darfur and all of Sudan that my friends here will not go home. They will not have the opportunity to live fulfilling lives. They will not have choices. They will slowly begin to lose their culture as more generations grow up in camps outside of their homeland. Their entire world has already changed, and they adjusted as much as we can ask someone to adjust. In the end, they want to go home.


Please be part of allowing peace, justice, education, and CHOICE back into their lives.


paz, ktj

Let us be heard by our leader, President Barack Obama. Everyone we meet has faith that he will do the right thing. We even met one man who named is newborn son, Obama because President Obama believes in peace, justice and democracy. Unfortunately, President Obama is like most other politicians in that his actions are motivated by re-election.  He needs to hear from you.


This week, between 9am-5pm EST, call the White House 202-456-1111 and tell President Obama to bring justice and peace to Darfur.


If you get a busy signal. Please don’t give up. Call back, usually it takes a few quick dials within a few minutes to reach one of the White House Operators.