Displaced

For many in Sudan, the war in Darfur is something too remote to think about – the conflict on the opposite side of the country is far removed from the five-star wealth of Khartoum. But as tensions rise in the province, displaced Darfurians are increasingly cut off from humanitarian aid, writes Conor O'Loughlin

To understand the claims of neglect made by the rebels of Darfur, one has to look no further than the streets of Khartoum. There is money in this country but the haves are doing a very good job of keeping it from the have-nots.

Wealth and poverty – and the excesses of both – are in evidence everywhere in Khartoum. Brand-new Hummer SUVs glide past filthy tuk-tuks on the well-paved streets. On the banks of the Nile, tall sheikhs with gold-rimmed sunglasses rub shoulders with the peasants of black Africa.

The Sudanese economy is one of the fastest-growing in Africa. Despite American trade sanctions and threats of UN embargoes, many companies from Asia and the Middle East are taking full advantage of the economic opportunities in one of Africa's most oil-rich nations.

The China-Malaysia Petroleum Corporation, Malaysia's Petronas and India's ONGC Videsh, amongst others, all have huge operations here. The international advocacy organisation Human Rights Watch has alleged that they are all "complicit in human-rights abuses" in Sudan's strife-torn south.

One of the few western commercial presences here is that of Coca-Cola, who opened a factory in 2002 under a loophole in the American sanctions that allows the import of food and medicines.

There is an Arabic word that one hears a lot in Sudan. It is 'malesh' – roughly translated, it means 'unfortunate, but true'. Malesh can refer to the heat, or the traffic, or anything the Sudanese accept as fact but are unwilling to think too much about. And it is so with the situation in Darfur for many here. It is far away – the opposite side of what is Africa's largest country – and, with the notable exceptions of the displaced people on the outskirts of the capital, its problems don't affect city life.

In Khartoum, there are five-star hotels, six-lane highways, huge economic growth. And there is hope.

Economists of the West love to talk of unequal societies in their midst but they have clearly not been to Sudan.

Origins of war

Hundreds of miles to the west, where land is the only resource, lie the troubled provinces of Darfur. Darfur never recovered from the great famines of 1984/85 and today the Sahara continues its southward march, swallowing the livelihoods of the nomadic tribes as it comes.

Until annexation by the British-Egyptian condominium in 1916, Darfur had remained for centuries a stable and independent sultanate. This huge, raised plateau, the size of France, separated Arab Sudan from its enemies in Chad and Libya. It was useful militarily but its people were left uneducated and their land seriously underdeveloped. The first independent Sudanese government of 1956 were happy to let this pattern continue.

Continue it did and in 2003 the first attacks by disgruntled rebels came on government targets in Darfur. To the apparent impotence of the international community, that war has escalated to the point where, today, the UN estimates that 400,000 people have died and 2.5 million have been displaced.

The death toll hit its peak in 2004, yet the situation now is far more perilous. The international stand-off over a force of UN peacekeepers shows no signs of calming. The president of Sudan, Omar Hassan Al Bashir, has built himself on a pro-Arabian rhetorical base of defiance in the face of what he calls "neo-colonial" arrogance. He is a proud man and sees himself as an Arab leader with world status.

Bush and Blair are also proud men and their calls for UN-mandated peacekeeping troops are just as unlikely to be rescinded. There have been increasing calls for a 'third way' – a compromise that all concerned can agree to, without compromising their political capital domestically or internationally.

Without aid

El Fasher is the capital of northern Darfur. Its market teems with traders, donkeys and militia. There are government soldiers here, along with newly integrated Sudanese Liberation Army (SLA) militia and even the vile Janjaweed warriors lounge under trees, guns in hand, with complete impunity.

On El Fasher's tiny airstrip, helicopter gunships await deployment. Huge Russian Antonov cargo planes fly in and out, low over the dust. There is a camp for the displaced outside the town and people have rushed there for shelter from the constant bombs being dropped on their villages. These bombs invariably are rolled out of the backs of low-flying Antonovs. Crude but effective.

Crucially, as people are forced from their homes, the international aid community is also being squeezed out by increasing insecurity. In fact, humanitarian access in Darfur is at an all-time low with an estimated 40 per cent of Darfurians completely cut off from aid.

Goal has only one remaining base in Darfur, after it was forced out of the central region of Jebel Marra earlier in the year. The Goal staff run medical and nutritional programmes from the town of Kutum, accessible only by helicopter from El Fasher. Earlier this month, a Goal vehicle was hijacked at gunpoint from the town. There has been a recent build-up of Janjaweed militia north of the town and rumours persist of a rebel attack in the coming weeks.

The hijacking forced Goal to re-evaluate its operations in Kutum and the decision was made to scale back indefinitely until the situation improves. Many of its clinics are inaccessible due to insecurity and many of the beneficiary population of up to 220,000 people are deprived of the expertise that only Goal's staff are able – or willing – to provide them. As much as is possible, medicines and other supplies are being sent to these clinics with the help of passing commercial truckers.

Back in Khartoum, school has finished for the day and Africa Road, which cuts through the city alongside the airport runway, is teeming with schoolgirls in headscarves and the bizarre, military-style camouflaged uniforms that students are forced to wear throughout Sudan. It is indicative of the military complex of the government and gives them the ghoulish appearance of being in waiting for war.

And as the disparities grow, and tensions rise, malesh, maybe they are.

Conor O'Loughlin works for Goal