BBC : It
was RSF fighters, along with allied Arab militias, who ran amok in
el-Geneina last year, mainly targeting residents from the non-Arab
Masalit community in what human rights groups, including UN experts,
have described as ethnic cleansing and possible war crimes and crimes
against humanity. Human Rights Watch concluded it was a possible
genocide.
The Sudanese army has also
come under sharp criticism. Arab civilians were also reported to have
perished in this turmoil, many from shelling by army tanks, or in
blistering air raids.
Both the RSF and the SAF deny accusations of war crimes and point accusing fingers at their rivals.
Many Sudanese have fled across the border from el-Geneina to Chad
Few journalists have made it to el-Geneina to see its plight, including the aftermath of what were two massacres over a period of several months last year, which the UN says killed up to 15,000 people.
The
frenzy of violence, rape and looting is regarded as one of the worst
atrocities in Sudanās brutal conflagration, which has created the
worldās worst humanitarian crisis.
We
travelled from the Chadian border town of Adre, with the UN delegation,
on a journey of less than an hour on a rippling dirt track enveloped in
dust, which slices through the desolate semi-desert plateau dotted with
half-built or abandoned clay-brick buildings.
A
small number of hulking lorries packed with the aid of the UNās World
Food Programme, as well as rickety Sudanese carts driven by horses or
donkeys, go back and forth across a border marked by not much more than a
few wooden posts and ropes.
But on
the other side of the frontier, across the no-manās land in a dry
sloping wadi and along our bleak route, gun-toting RSF fighters in
camouflage uniforms patrol this part of Sudan. Some are just young boys
who flash cheeky grins.
But, before
we left Adre, knowing how hard it may be to gather testimonies inside,
we spent time in the sprawling informal camp run by the UN and Chadian
authorities close to the border. A throng, mainly women of all ages,
some cradling children, fill the vast field. Itās a temporary settlement
of startling proportions.
Everyone
we spoke with was from el-Geneina. And they all carried their stories
with them as they escaped acute hunger and the horrors visited upon
their homes.
āWhen we fled, our young
brothers were killed,ā piped up a self-assured 14-year-old Sudanese
girl in a rose pink headscarf, who spoke calmly and quietly about
terrifying times.
āSome of them were still breastfeeding, too young to walk. Our elders escaping with us were killed too.ā
I asked her how she managed to survive.
āWe
had to hide by day and resume our journey in the middle of the night.
If you move during the day, they will kill you. But even moving at night
is still so dangerous.ā
Her family
finally made the hard choice to leave their homeland. Her mother was
with her but she didnāt know where her father was.
āKids were separated from their fathers and husbands,ā shouted an elderly woman whose dark eyes blazed with anger.
āThey indiscriminately killed everyone ā women, boys, babies, everyone.ā
āWe used to get food from our farms," chimed in another woman as their stories tumbled over each other.
āBut when the war began, we couldnāt farm and the animals ate our crops, so we were left with nothing. ā
Civilians in el-Geneina got a rare chance to tell the UN of their desperate plight
In
el-Geneina, our first stop is a modest health centre in the al-Riyadh
displacement camp, where Sudanese women in brightly coloured veils sit
in chairs along the wall, or huddle on bamboo mats on the floor.
A
delegation of mainly elderly men, some with crutches, sit closer to the
front under the shade of the corrugated metal roof and wide-boughed
trees which frame an open wall.
It
feels like a different el-Geneina. There's no visible presence of armed
RSF men in a leafy neighbourhood lined with humble mud houses. Young
boys turn cartwheels, women in vivid head-to-toe veils walk purposively
past, and donkey carts ferrying water drums trot along dusty dirt roads.
āWe
have suffered a lot,ā underlines a community elder, a white-turbaned
teacher who is the first to address the visiting UN team in their
signature blue vests. He speaks precisely and carefully.
āItās
true that when the war started some people supported SAF, and some
supported RSF. But as displaced people we are neutral and in need of
every kind of assistance.ā
This
camp was first established in 2003, a reminder that Darfur's agony
erupted two decades ago when the infamous Arab militia known as the
Janjaweed sowed terror among non-Arab communities and was also accused
of multiple war crimes. It gave rise to the RSF.
The
teacher listed a catalogue of basic needs ā from food for malnourished
women and children, to schools and clean water. He also explained that
most women are now in charge of their families.
Some
of the young women, only their eyes visible, film the meeting on their
phones, perhaps wanting some record of this rare event.
Mr Fletcher addressed them directly.
āYou
must often feel that no-one is listening and that no-one understands
what you have endured, more than anyone else in the population, and
maybe more than anyone else in the world.ā They respond with vigorous
clapping.
The UN's next stop, behind
closed doors, is even more forthright when Mr Fletcher and his
colleagues sit in front of a gathering of Sudanese and international
NGOs based in Darfur who are struggling to respond to this enormous
catastrophe.
Unlike the UN, they
havenāt waited for permissions from Gen Burhanās government to operate
here; approval for the UNās international staff to be based here was
recently revoked.
Twenty NGOs,
working without reliable internet or electricity or even phones, and
struggling to obtain more Sudanese visas for staff, say theyāre trying
to help the 99.9% of the population in need. Their message was clear ā
the UN system was failing them.
The WFP has struggled to get much-needed aid into Sudan
āMore
needs to be done,ā Tariq Riebl, who heads the Sudan operations of the
Norwegian Refugee Council, tells us after the meeting. But he says his
worst fear āis that no-one cares, that theyāre only paying attention to
other crises such as Ukraine and Gazaā.
āThis
is one of the worst conflicts we've seen in recent memory, in terms of
the violence that's been committed, and people fleeing,ā he emphasises.
āAnd there are also very few actual famines anymore, but this one is one.ā
So
far, the global Famine Review Committee (FRC) has declared it in one
part of the Zamzam displacement camp housing about half a million people
in North Darfur; more than a dozen other areas are said to be on the
brink.
āThe UN can't just charge across the border anywhere we would like to,ā insists Mr Fletcher.
āBut
this week weāve got more flights coming in to regional airports, more
hubs opening inside Sudan, and we're getting more people on the ground
as well.ā
During his week-long visit
to Sudan and its neighbours, he met representatives of both the SAF and
the RSF to push for more access across lines and across borders.
He started his new job vowing āto end impunity and indifferenceā.
āIt
would be rash to say I can end impunity alone,ā he remarks
diplomatically about a conflict in which rival regional powers have been
arming and assisting the warring parties.
The
United Arab Emirates is accused of backing the RSF, although it denies
this. While countries including Egypt, Iran, and Russia are known to be
supporting the SAF. Others are also weighing in, including Saudi Arabia
and regional organisations including the Arab Union, with all sides
saying theyāre working for peace, not war.
When
it comes to indifference, after Mr Fletcher's first visit many more
Sudanese and aid workers will be watching closely, hoping he can make a
difference in this "toughest crisis in the world".