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Conrad Hilton

2006 Conrad N. Hilton Humanitarian
Prize Recipient

     

Dear all,

I trust this email finds you well. As you know, I am currently in Sudan. I have been here for almost three weeks. A few of you have asked, “how is Sudan?” and I felt that it would be unfair to say “fine” because “fine” does not really say much when it comes to Sudan. South Sudan isn’t fine; Rumbek isn’t fine. So, to answer your questions, I decided to share with you some reflections from my personal journal.

I don’t like places like this, like Rumbek, Sudan. It reminds me of the inequality in the world, the injustice in the world, the cruelty of humanity, how children are denied the right to realize their dreams. It reminds me of how the brilliance and creativity of some of the world’s people are being lost, of the suffering and pain and vulnerability of women, of the burden that women must carry because of their gender, of my own vulnerability and how sensitive I am to poverty and suffering. It reminds me how unfairly people are treated, how power corrupts, how too many things make me feel helpless. Sudan reminds me of the unnecessary cruelty in the world, like war and conflict; how the innocents are the ones who pay; and how much work we need to do individually and collectively to make the world a more just and fair place. It is painful; it hurts at the core of my being. It hurts my eyes; it hurts my spirits. I cannot stop the feeling. I cannot bear this suffering. Am I alone in what I see? I can’t do this anymore. I don't want to get used to seeing this kind of suffering. I’m afraid to get used to this. The world is unfair and unkind, but it does not have to be.

This place reminds me that I am a globally displaced person. The injustice in the world is stark. The sufferings of women are many. Sudan is opening my eyes to a reality about the suffering of humanity that I have only read about, and I have seen suffering. Honestly, it is too painful to bear witness to this.

Karak, the Sudanese woman that has just started working with us, our first staff member in Sudan, couldn’t be a better person for this job. It would be difficult for me alone to try to penetrate the complex web of Sudanese society given the kind of work that we do, but with Karak, I am certain that things can be done. It is nice to find someone like her so early in the development of the Sudan Chapter Office. She is so committed to the work. She sees what we do as an opportunity for many of the Southern women living in the North and elsewhere to come back. She said, “Life is hard and difficult for them in the North, even more difficult than what you see here.” It is always amazing to me how things can be worse somewhere else. I don’t know what to believe anymore. How much worse can it be? The answer frightens me.

For 15 years, Karak lived as an internally displaced person in a camp in Khartoum. When you hear her story, you are moved. But what is interesting about her is her personal life: the way she is working with her culture; the way she reconciles the challenges of having lived in an abusive relationship yet respects the will of her family and her culture; the way she is working to increase her knowledge and that of other women. But more importantly, she is working to bring together the old generation and the new to talk about what they would like to see in the future for  Sudan. How well she understands her culture and how clear she is about what needs to be. She is hopeful and optimistic. She is truly an inspiration.

Karak and I come from different worlds, but, as women, we are bonded by how the world and society perceive us. We understand that, while we grew up in different places and live different realities, our vulnerability as women binds us together; we are bound even deeper by our commitment to work for social understanding that will extend to our children and hence the community and the society. This isn’t an easy task, but we remain optimistic that our small contribution may make a difference.

On so many levels, the work to be done in Sudan is daunting. The terrain is completely underdeveloped and lacks the most basic infrastructure. Social and economic recovery is at the mercy of a fragile peace, for peace is more than the absence of war. Human resources is a challenge across the board, but for women, it is far worse. There is no power or benefit in being at the bottom of the rung. Women are not just at the bottom, they are below the bottom. Still, I believe that we can make a vital contribution to alleviate the suffering.

The living conditions are quite challenging, to say the least. In light of this and other personal challenges, I take comfort in the work and in the way the women are looking forward to the start of our program. It seems clear to them that I do not work for an organization, that I am part of a movement creating “stronger women for stronger nations.” That’s really what we do. That is the reason I am here.

When we are out in the community meeting with women, we are also looking for women who we could train to be trainers. Karak and I both are committed to identifying women in the communities who can be trained to eventually work with the organization. This will be critical for the success of the program. The people here have been dealt a bad hand; some have said that the people who left are better off than those that were left behind -- but who is to say, and how can pain and suffering be compared?

Despite how difficult things are for me, I am very eager and optimistic about our work and how it will help to change people’s lives, one woman at a time. After opening our office in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, this is not just sheer optimism on my part. I know that it can be done. As a woman in a community assessment once said to us, “If we have knowledge and skills, don’t worry, we will make things happen for ourselves.”

Karak and I keep each other motivated. We are a great team; we compliment each other well. When her keen understanding of the communities fails, my instincts kick in to keep us afloat.

Have a good day!

Judithe