Boys in Darfur Refugee Camps Sold

Rebels Turn Youths into Child Soldiers

Young refugee boys from Darfur are being sold by their families to rebel groups as soldiers or taken by force. As a humanitarian aid worker in Central Africa at a camp with 20,000 homeless and hungry, the sea of tents after 4 years feels permanent. This practice was brought to the attention of Waging Peace, a UK-based human rights organization, which highlighted the author's findings in a report in June. As a result, the organization has come under fire from the rebels’ allies in the West, who discredit the NGO, depriving this story of the media attention it deserves. On a brighter note, a major international aid agency did pay attention and is undertaking far-reaching investigations to bring child slavery here to an end.

Bakoye (all names have been changed), my Sudanese interpreter, and I step into the unrelenting heat and endless sea of tents, though I notice there are a few more traditional huts than last year. After more than four years, some refugees have started building their own homes, baking bricks from sand mixed with straw. It brings them some sense of normalcy, Bakoye says.

Bakoye, who lives in the Chadian capital, asks me to follow Suleiman, a local leader through the maze of tents and alleyways to a small private room where a handful of ragged refugees—feet cracked and caked with hardened soil for lack of water—sit on mats, drinking tea or finishing a meal. Their long jelabiyas drape their undernourished bodies. Reclaimed tarps double as undulating ceilings above the mud walls.

Suleiman shakes off his sandals, walks across the mat and sits, beckoning us to do the same. “Alright”, he begins, “now we speak of serious things." I flip my camera to video mode, Suleiman adjusts his checkered headdress. I adjust the lens and zoom in on Bakoye.

Fathers Sell Boys Under 10 to Darfur's Rebel Recruiters

Bakoye translates: " Suleiman says that the rebel movement has been coming into the camp to recruit the children at night, after the aid workers had left to drive back to their compounds and in broad daylight. The rebel commanders have become arrogant. They’re forcing boys under 10 to join!”

“Suleiman says that some fathers are selling their boys to make profit,” translates Bakoye. “It causes trouble in the homes, as the mothers fight to keep their sons.He says one of the camp leaders uses a satellite phone to call rebel commanders and invite them to his tent and there they conclude the deals.”

Bakoye continues to translate, “The camps are supposed to be neutral zones. The aid agencies cannot step in or they might be seen as taking sides. It’s a no-win situation." I say, "The aid agencies can intervene indirectly, through an independent panel, get a full investigation started.”

“Suleiman says the mothers are still wailing the loss of their children. You remember? Back at the end of 2006 when the three main Sudanese resistance groups joined together and recruited youth and young boys.”

“Many were happy that the Sudanese rebels had united and were going to free Darfur,” I say.

“That’s true,” replies Bakoye, “but then they cared for their people. Now the groups have divided again,. The people don’t feel that the rebels are fighting for them anymore; they have their own political agenda. They are recruiting for the Chadian government because they belong to the same clan.”

Mothers and Refugees Protest and Ask for NGO Help

Arbab, leader of Zone 13, and Halima, a widowed mother whose two 11- and 12-year-old boys have been sold, join us. Arbab gesticulates and stabs the air in anger while Bakoye waits to translate. It is in bad taste to interrupt an elder. Halima, sitting away from the men according to tradition, keeps her eyes downcast.

"Her husband’s brother beat her to the ground and negotiated a good trade for the two boys." As my camera sweeps across the room, tears well up in the men’s eyes. Bakoye clears his throat. “Halima says her two other sons, aged 10 and 13, joined the rebel movement in January 2007. The 10-year-old didn’t want to, but his brother said they would be heroes. She hasn’t heard from them since and has no idea whether they are still alive.”

Bakoye pauses, regains composure. “The boys were huddled together, terrified. When their uncle grabbed them by force, they started crying, screaming for their mother’s help. There was nothing she could do. Halima doesn’t know where her sons were taken, or where they are right now.”

A hush fills the room except for Halima’s quiet sobbing to remind us of the mission they've entrusted to us, all of us.