Biographies and Autobiographies are one of my favorite genres as I relish the life lessons learned by others. These individuals have helped me overcome obstacles in my own life, inspired me to better myself, provided me with a strong and positive role model, and helped me better understand this complex world around us.
So, when I picked up this book, I had high expectations that the author would also be this inspiring and strong woman. The Heart of Darfur is written by a MSF worker, Lisa Blaker, who goes to Darfur, Sudan for 9 months to help with humanitarian aid in this war torn forgotten country in Africa.
After reading the first chapter or two, I saw that this was not to be the case. I felt the author was weak and that I would have reacted much differently. Although Lisa didn't impress me much, I was instead inspired by the people around her; the ones who walked for 17 hours, escaping under the cover of night, sometimes running from gun-fire to seek medical help for their children; the ones who experienced and witnessed some of the most horrendous crimes in humanity yet still had such strong conviction, faith and hope that things will be better. They found strength by focusing on the little things they DID have: another day of life, obtaining medical treatment, a day of peace, rain, a family member making it back after a raid, a child waking up from the cold chill of death after receiving life-saving re-hydration solution, a blanket, clean water.....Something that we could all do to remember: there is always something to give thanks for.
I won't go into too much detail about the atrocities these people faced, but would like to touch on some interesting comments/thoughts/statistics that Lisa made.
- Diarrhea, severe dehydration, cerebral malaria and malnutrition are the most common ailments children face. Many mothers run out of breast milk and turn exclusively to goat's milk mixed with often contaminated water. This rich, yet nutrient poor milk mix often leads to diarrhea, dehydration and death in babies under one year.
- Cerebral malaria kills an estimated 700,000-900,000 in Sub-Saharan Africa every year. Three thousand children a day. But who knows the true numbers. their births are often not registered, their death unrecorded in remote, hidden villages and river beds.
- Threats of full-scale assaults were always there. They stole goods, attacked woman, chased villagers...and according to the government none of this was happening. They claimed attacks on locals were exaggerated and fighting was simply "tribal warfare".
- The outreach workers were key to the community. They represented every tribe. The government was telling us there was no problem...yet our outreach workers were telling us a different story.
- Our workload seemed to increase exponential. Attacks on locals occurred every day. The injuries increasing in number and intensity. Rape, attempted rape, torture, theft, and murder all left their scars. All tribes were affected. Incursions into town took prisoners who were as badly treated as any other. There were no rules or clear lines- good and evil, right and wrong. All sides seemed able to inflict punishment and they wailed into the night when their own kin were injured or killed.
- Tribal squabbling and grievances were a very real and potential volatile part of life in every community. And each situation had to be dealt with, while treating everyone fairly. Perceived favouritsm could be dangerous. If one sector received some input from out team then all the others wanted the same. And there wasn't enough time or resources to go around.
- Long-term solutions were almost impossible in a war and we were barely keeping these children alive week by week. They needed water from a deep borehole, clean and free. Boiling water was impossible for them, there wasn't enough firewood for everyone to use. If they couldnt' afford to buy clean water then they would continue to use water they found in puddles. The diarrhea would never end.
- "The baby did look better and it will be okay..for today. But tonight it will be fed goat's milk and dirty water again and it will die. Tomorrow or next week. What else dose the mother have if she has no other milk and no clean water?"
- I leaned back on my boots and looked along the line of gulping, sobbing children. That is the reality of war- not frightening statistics of death, front lines and the changing allegiances of tribes. the reality of war is those children, their dusty feet lying on the sand as they drank and sniffed. Flies gathering on their wet clothes...
- What are we doing here? I wondered. saving a life here and there, so they can be killed tomorrow? Is spending billions of dollars to help people live a life of prolonged suffering or providing valuable medicine to someone who is beyond help worth the expenditure?
- I've heard people say, "it's different there, those people are used to death and for them it is just natural.' Stand listening to a crying mother as she holds her dead child in her arms and tell me if you really believe that. They cry and grieve and ache inside and the aching never goes. The difference is that they have no choice, without the care we take for granted. Their children die and they can only watch.
- Woman speaking to Lisa: "I run classes with local military leaders, telling them of their responsibilities under international humanitarian law. I think they are really listening. If we can just teach them the rules of engagement then this was will dramatically change and civilians wont be at risk"..."I think you and I disagree on some fundamental points, you are dealing with an ideal situation, how people should behave. I deal with reality, how soldiers and militia actually behave. We don't live in an ideal world, and we never will. Your programme assumes that people want to be good, want to change and want to move toward the ideal. They don't."
- Shot from behind in their homes or chased by night with lasers of light. This was no game. It was their lives. Their painful, miserable lives, dragged out in a place too far away for anyone to care. It was their deaths that made up the statistics in reports far away. So that people could sit reading the morning newspaper and shudder. "they're fighting again in Darfur" and turn the page.
- In the midst of war, children are the future.
