My name is Hiba Salah Eldin. I am 27 years old, and I live in Dongola, the capital of the Northern State, Sudan. I am a medical laboratory specialist. My passion for humanitarian work started from a deep commitment to providing healthcare and support to individuals displaced by crises. I began volunteering with the Sudan Family Planning Association (SFPA) in 2020, during my final year of university, as a medical laboratory technician in a mobile clinic.
On my first day, I helped respond to floods in the suburbs of Khartoum. Seeing how much support we gave and the hope we brought to people made a big impression on me. In those moments, I felt a deep connection with others. I realized this was where I belonged. I didn’t just find a career—I found myself. In 2021, I became a medical laboratory specialist at a mobile clinic for the SFPA's Khartoum branch.
When the war began in 2023, I had to leave my home, my safe place, my friends, and the life I had worked so hard to build in Khartoum. Watching all my plans disappear so suddenly was heartbreaking. I fled to the Northern State, despite never having been there before, even though it is my ancestral home. Arriving for the first time, especially under such difficult circumstances, changed everything for me.
Even during the difficult time, I kept working at the SFPA mobile clinics in the Northern branch. This experience became a healing journey for me as I learned more about my family roots in the Northern State and helped Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) who were also fleeing the conflict. In 2024, I became the field coordinator, a position I am proud to hold today.
At the start of the war, people focused on surviving, escaping danger, and finding somewhere safe to sleep. As the war dragged on, their needs became increasingly complex. In the beginning, we mostly treated injuries and emergency illnesses. Now, we see the effects of long-term displacement. There is a pressing need for ongoing maternal health care, reproductive health services, and help with chronic conditions that often get neglected during war. The most significant change we are observing is the evident effect of long-term psychological stress. Many have lost their homes and their sense of self. Support for mental health and safe spaces is now just as important as physical medical care.
As a field coordinator, I monitor SFPA facilities and ensure that health care and sexual and reproductive health services reach those who need them most. This means listening, really listening to the needs of both our hardworking staff and the communities we serve. I spend a significant part of my day preparing for our mobile clinic rounds. This involves meticulous planning to ensure we have the right medical supplies, the right team, and a clear path to reach the most remote or underserved areas.
On one occasion, I attended a Gender-Based Violence (GBV) case management training, representing SFPA. As we moved into the field practice at a Women and Girls Safe Space (WGSS), we began asking specific questions designed to identify and support survivors. For a moment, it was overwhelming, and I completely disconnected. I realized that the very questions I was asking the women and girls were the questions I desperately needed someone to ask me. It was a profound realization that the healer also needs healing. After that day, I sought psychological counseling and support. It was a turning point that allowed me to continue my work with a clear heart and a renewed spirit.
My future holds a mix of strong hope and quiet fear. I dream of a day when 'home' is a place we can return to. I hope for a Sudan where the children I see in the clinics today grow up to be the doctors, teachers, and leaders of tomorrow. I want to see our Women’s Safe Spaces grow into permanent centers of innovation and entrepreneurship. Even though I worry that the world may get used to our displacement and forget the people behind the statistics, I choose to focus on the resilience we are building now.
The conflict in Sudan is not something its people chose. It is a tragedy they have been forced to endure. Every statistic I record as a field coordinator represents a real person—a mother, a dreamer, a family. Our nation is strong, but strength alone is not enough. We need the world to stand with us. Sudan is more than a war zone. It is a community full of hope, waiting for the chance to rise, rebuild, and live with dignity and peace.
The war took so much from me, but I’m oddly grateful for how it changed the way I see things. It helped me find a new perspective on life and taught me what resilience really means. At first, I was scared and felt like I’d lost everything, as if my world had ended. But over time, through my work and being part of my community, those feelings have now turned into a new sense of purpose.