Sitting on a bed frame at the Joda border point, Claudia Godid pushes a green headscarf over her face to shield herself from the ever-present dust. Her weary gaze fixates on the two flagpoles that demarcate the boundary between South Sudan and Sudan, a mere 100 meters away. Originally from Khartoum, she trekked from the Sudanese town of Rabak to reach this point.
Godid recounts the harrowing start of Sudan’s bloody conflict a year ago, describing it as “very, very bad.” The airstrikes, shootings, and rampant sexual violence inflicted terror upon the populace, forcing many like her to flee. She recalls the sense of safety in Rabak crumbling as violence encroached, prompting the entire community to evacuate.
The dusty road connecting Khartoum to Joda buzzes with activity as an increasing number of refugees cross the border. Most are women accompanied by children, though young men also seek refuge from the strife in Sudan. Some, who can afford it, opt to rent donkey carts to ease their journey.
For the residents of Joda village, the influx of newcomers represents a lucrative opportunity. Money changers strategically position themselves behind the border, handling Sudanese and South Sudanese pounds with indifference. The escalating conflict has inadvertently boosted their business.
The border guards, seeking respite from the sweltering heat exceeding 40 degrees Celsius, have retreated to a thatched hut. Despite the significant traffic of refugees passing through Joda, border checks have ceased for months. Albino Atol Atak Mayom, the humanitarian minister in Juba, underscores the country’s open-door policy towards those fleeing conflict, emphasizing their right to protection.
The power struggle between generals Abdel Fattah al-Burhan and Mohamed Hamdan Daglo ignited the conflict in Sudan a year ago, leaving civilians like Godid and her fellow refugees in a state of perpetual upheaval. The exodus of over 9 million people has resulted in the world’s largest refugee crisis, yet it often remains overshadowed by other global conflicts.
Renk, initially designated as a transit site, has transformed into a bustling hub for refugees. The overcrowded transit centers strain to accommodate the surging numbers of arrivals, disrupting the intended two-week stay before onward relocation. The camp, built for 3,000 individuals, now houses 15,000 residents, leading to makeshift shelters encroaching upon its confines.
The refugees, hailing from diverse backgrounds, face uncertain futures. Ethnic South Sudanese are classified as returnees, slated for resettlement in their original homelands. Others, like Fatma Mohammed, a Sudanese mother of four, grapple with the unknown fate of their loved ones left behind in the conflict-ridden regions.
As aid organizations strive to provide structure and support for the traumatized youngsters, the transit center grapples with the overwhelming demand for psychosocial assistance. Save the Children rights group endeavors to identify and prioritize vulnerable children in need of specialized care.
Despite the deplorable conditions and uncertainties, the resilience of the refugees shines through in their mutual support and camaraderie. Women like Katmalla Mahdi find solace in their shared experiences, offering each other comfort amid the chaos. Their unwavering hope and solidarity sustain them as they navigate the arduous journey towards an uncertain future.