It is known that the road to Kassala is difficult to pass. It has seen little maintenance over the years, and during these times of war, it is unmanageable.
Trenches cut the runway from one stretch of mountainous desert to another. The hoods of SUVs disappear inside and push passengers out of their seats as cars zip in and out of the hills.
For the healthy traveler, the journey is a source of pain and discomfort. For those who have the disease and live with a disability, it can be fatal.
He explained the humanitarian crisis in Sudan
This difficult journey carried hundreds of vulnerable disabled civilians and orphan children who were searching for some semblance of safety in the Eastern State of Sudan.
One of the orphaned children died on the way, and another died shortly after arriving, their sick bodies damaged by the 24-hour lapse and the violent conditions at the point of departure.
But many died in the besieged cities from which they narrowly escaped.
When the war broke out in Sudan In the capital, Khartoum, between the Sudanese Armed Forces and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces, residents thought it would only last a few days.
The city became empty as weeks turned into months and civilians began to die from lack of food and water, on top of ferocious armed violence.
In the famous Al-Migoma Orphanage in Khartoum, 69 children died from diseases resulting from war conditions.
Like nearly half a million others, the orphans were evacuated to Wad Madani about four hours away in a joint effort between the International Committee of the Red Cross, UNICEF and government authorities.
The country's second-largest city has become a growing humanitarian center and a treatment center for the sick, elderly, and disabled.
But on December 18, the Rapid Support Forces seized the city of Wad Madani, and testimonies of terror, looting and killing echoed from the former safe haven.
Hundreds of orphans, along with adults and children with disabilities, had no choice but to embark on the arduous journey to Kassala.
When we met them, there was a feeling of unease. Acute shortages of life-saving supplies and uncertainty about their long-term safety.
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The Migoma orphans are now settled in a primary school at the foot of the bulging Mount Tutil in Kassala.
The downstairs classroom smelled of old urine and disease, as underweight infants and toddlers rolled around on straw mats on the hardwood floor.
A round steel tray containing foil-covered dishes arrives and more than twenty young children gather around it.
There are no cots for children
“Five of them have died since the evacuation,” says Dr. Abeer Abdullah Zakaria, a medical caregiver at the orphanage. “One died on the way and the other upon arrival. Both needed surgery and were declared dead in the hospital.”
“Three more of them have died in the orphanage since then. They suffered from cerebral palsy and developed blood poisoning due to bedsores.”
Except for a few fragile mattresses that were donated, the young children have no beds to lie on.
Outside the classroom, more children from foster homes in Hasahisa, a town near Wad Madani, sleep under tents on the hard playground.
Their late and troubled evacuation was a source of great controversy.
This operation was organized by committed local volunteers several days after the first group was removed, and was suspended at the Kassala State border for another 24 hours.
Despite their living conditions, these children play loudly and happily – a sign of relief and gratitude for their safety after the efforts made to bring them here.
But on the other side of town, in a shelter for displaced people with disabilities, there is homesickness.
“Struggle in every way.”
Parents tell us they designed their homes around their children's needs. Now, they gather in classrooms with strangers.
“You can't even imagine having a child with severe autism living in a displacement shelter and lacking basic necessities,” says Nemat Hasabo Ali. “They cannot eat anything or stay in any room. They are struggling in every way.”
She fled her home in Bahri, Khartoum, with her two children. They were diagnosed with severe autism, and the sound of air raids and shelling was confusing to them.
She was reluctant to evacuate immediately because of fears that few would accept and house her children.
They ended up leaving after the food ran out.
She says bodies were scattered on the ground around their house as they fled. Her youngest son, Moataz, is still obsessed with drawing the corpses he saw that day.
In Wad Madani, where they sought safety for weeks before the RSF advanced, and now here in Kassala, her children are still suffering in a crowded shelter far from their purpose-built home.
“We just hope that the war will end and that we can return to our home,” Nemat says with tearful eyes.