How Sudan’s volunteer medics are helping war survivors cope with mental trauma

Special How Sudan’s volunteer medics are helping war survivors cope with mental trauma
The war in Sudan deepened after the RSF captured El-Fasher, triggering a new wave of displacement amid reports of atrocities against civilians. (AFP file photo)
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How Sudan’s volunteer medics are helping war survivors cope with mental trauma

How Sudan’s volunteer medics are helping war survivors cope with mental trauma
  • Millions displaced by Sudan’s war face acute psychological distress, often without access to professional mental health support
  • Fighting has devastated hospitals and clinics, leaving only volunteer networks and community initiatives to fill critical healthcare gaps

DUBAI: After being displaced from the Sudanese capital, Khartoum, several times before finally reaching safety in Kassala to the east, Dr. Tayseer Ibrahim understood better than most the lasting scars Sudan’s war would leave on generations to come.

Before she could complete her final semester in medical school, the 27-year-old was forced to pack her belongings and leave when the sound of shelling drew closer and war raged through the streets of Khartoum, a city since recaptured by the army but still in ruins.

Boarding the first bus packed with displaced people bound for Wad Madani, capital of Al-Jazira state to the southeast of Khartoum, Ibrahim’s journey was perilous, marked by sudden clashes at checkpoints and sleepless nights spent under trees in search of safe passage.

After settling temporarily in a camp in the village of Al-Shakaba, she was forced to leave once again when the situation deteriorated. The journey to Kassala took more than a week, mostly on foot, before she finally arrived at the Omar Al-Haj Musa School camp.

“As a survivor, I understood better than anyone what my people truly needed,” Ibrahim told Arab News.

Driven by the pain and loss she endured and the suffering she witnessed, Ibrahim joined a group of displaced female doctors to establish the Youth Voluntary Mental Health Organization in Kassala.

Founded in partnership with the UN refugee agency, UNHCR, the center seeks to meet the growing need for psychological relief and protection, amid the collapse of Sudan’s healthcare system, for a young generation displaced by war and now facing lasting trauma.

Now in its third year, the war between the Sudanese Armed Forces and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces has triggered one of the world’s worst humanitarian crises, displacing nearly 12 million people and making Sudan home to the world’s largest internally displaced population.

The war also fueled what the UN describes as the world’s most extensive hunger crisis, with famine already declared in at least five locations.

The situation has been exacerbated by a new wave of displacement, with nearly 90,000 people fleeing El-Fasher in the past two weeks, according to the UN, following the RSF’s capture of the North Darfuri capital on Oct. 26 after an 18-month siege.

With the economy on its knees and public services almost nonexistent, aid groups say the war is leaving an entire generation traumatized, out of school, and malnourished.

Exposure to violence, hunger, disease, and mass displacement, compounded by the collapse of healthcare infrastructure, has led to a surge in cases of depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder, particularly among children and adolescents.

“Most of the displaced in the camps suffer from trauma and depression; some to the point of suicide,” Ibrahim told Arab News.

“Conditions for those diagnosed before the war worsened alongside the new cases brought on by violence and displacement.”

A 2024 survey by the UN children’s fund, UNICEF, found that 67 percent of Sudanese children in displacement camps showed signs of severe emotional distress, yet only five percent had access to any form of psychological support.

Experts said Sudan’s mental health system, weakened by years of economic turmoil and a 22-year civil war, was already limited and severely underfunded.

The latest conflict has further eroded access to medical care as most psychiatrists and mental health workers have fled or been displaced, while medical supplies remain scarce.

Local psychiatrists also report that social stigma toward mental health disorders remains widespread in Sudanese society.

“Many people are not aware of the importance of psychological treatment and support,” said Ibrahim.

She described the “inhumane conditions” facing displaced families in Kassala, many of whom live in schools turned into emergency shelters or in overcrowded tents with no privacy and limited access to clean water or sanitation — conditions ripe for disease, exacerbated by natural disasters such as floods and droughts.

“The majority of the displaced are women and children who live without income or a family provider,” said Ibrahim. “Many displaced families include members suffering from chronic, infectious, or mental illnesses, yet they have little or no access to medical services.”

Such conditions put women at risk of gender-based violence, experts warn.

Ibrahim recalled the case of a 17-year-old girl who attempted suicide in the camp, driven to desperation by a lack of privacy, an uncertain future, and domestic abuse by her mentally unstable father.

“Fortunately, intervention came in time. She survived and is now receiving treatment,” said Ibrahim.

With only a handful of psychiatrists and medical professionals left in Sudan, community-based initiatives like Ibrahim’s have become a lifeline.

Despite these efforts, she said the most urgent needs, including food, medicine, shelter, and psychological support, far exceed the humanitarian aid currently available.

Her organization, funded by UNHCR, focuses on mental health and psychosocial support, gender-based violence, child protection, and primary healthcare.

Ibrahim works alongside a small team comprising a psychologist, a neurologist, and social workers to offer free diagnostic and therapeutic services to displaced persons, along with regular follow-ups for chronic and mental health conditions.

Women and girls affected by gender-based violence receive counseling sessions, supported by a referral network to ensure their protection and safety.

The team provides counseling across several displacement sites, including Sittat Arab Camp in Halfa, Omar Al-Haj Musa School, Al-Saadiya School, Tajoug School, and a camp west of the city’s airport.

Ibrahim said the organization focuses on children and youth in the hope of contributing to Sudan’s long-term recovery.

She was among more than 80 medical students who received UNHCR funding to complete their final semester after the war disrupted their studies.

Without that support, she said, she could not have afforded the fees or earned her degree, which later enabled her to establish the organization as a way to pay it forward and help her community rebuild.

Not many students, particularly children, were so fortunate. The conflict has devastated the education system, leaving more than 10,400 schools closed and forcing 19 million children out of formal education, including 4 million who are displaced, according to UNICEF.

The UN agency says Sudan is now facing the world’s largest child displacement crisis.

Aid groups and humanitarian organizations have warned that school closures and economic instability are deepening long-term psychological distress among Sudanese youth, creating a lost generation that could deprive the country of a skilled workforce and prolong its economic instability for years to come.

Malnutrition is another deep and lasting scar of the war. A March 2024 UNICEF report found that nearly 3.8 million children in Sudan are acutely malnourished, including 730,000 suffering from severe acute malnutrition, as health experts warn of the long-term impact of hunger on children’s cognitive development, memory, and ability to learn during their formative years.

To encourage emotional expression and a sense of security, Ibrahim said her organization has established child-friendly spaces as safe environments equipped with educational games and creative activities.

Besides providing one-on-one counseling, the center organizes recreational events for children and mothers, and sports activities targeting young people and adolescents to promote their mental and physical well-being.

The center aims to expand its outreach by training volunteers and community members to provide immediate support to those suffering from trauma.

It also holds seminars on mental health and developmental workshops designed to build the capacities of women and youth, empowering them to create lasting change in their communities.

Healthcare professionals want to see mental health treated as a core component of global humanitarian efforts, emphasizing that psychological support is as vital as food, shelter, and medical care in helping conflict-affected communities recover and rebuild.

Calls for a ceasefire and global action have surged amid mounting evidence from UN human rights bodies and independent experts of war crimes in El-Fasher.

Both the army and the RSF have been accused of crimes against humanity. The RSF has also been implicated in atrocities in Darfur that the UN said may amount to genocide.

RSF leader Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, also known as Hemedti, has promised to investigate the El-Fasher allegations, but both sides categorically reject accusations of war crimes and genocide.

Mindful of Khartoum’s long road to recovery, Ibrahim said she hopes to return to her hometown and contribute to its reconstruction now that she has established a lifeline for displaced communities in Kassala.

“Communities in Khartoum are in dire need of psychological and medical support, and I feel that my experience as a doctor, a displaced person, and a survivor can make a difference.”


Women riding motorbikes is latest sign of Iran’s societal change

Women riding motorbikes is latest sign of Iran’s societal change
Updated 4 sec ago

Women riding motorbikes is latest sign of Iran’s societal change

Women riding motorbikes is latest sign of Iran’s societal change
  • “For women, riding a motorcycle is not just a way to commute but a symbol of choice, independence and equal presence in society”

TEHRAN: When Merat Behnam first gathered enough courage to ride her yellow scooter through the gridlocked streets of Iran ‘s capital to the coffee shop she runs, traffic wasn’t her main worry.

She instead girded herself for disapproving looks, verbal abuse and even being stopped by the police for being a women riding a motorbike in Tehran, something long frowned upon by hard-liners and conservative clerics in Iran.

But Behnam, 38, found herself broadly accepted on the road — and part of a wider reconsideration by women about societal expectations in Iran.

“It was a big deal for me,” Behnam said after riding up to her café on a recent day. “I didn’t really know how to go about it. In the beginning I was quite stressed, but gradually the way people treated me and their reactions encouraged me a lot.”

Two things in the past prevented women from driving motorbikes or scooters. First, police regulations in Iran’s Farsi language specifically refer to only “mardan” or “men” being able to obtain motorcycle licenses. 

“This issue is not a violation but a crime, and my colleagues will deal with these individuals, since none of these women currently have a driver’s license and we cannot act against the law,” Gen. Abulfazl Mousavipoor, Tehran’s traffic police chief, said in a report carried by the semiofficial ISNA news agency in September.

Then there’s the cultural aspect. While women can now hold jobs, political office and a car license, since its 1979 Islamic Revolution the country has imposed a strictly conservative, Shiite Islam understanding of conduct by women.

There’s been speculation the administration of reformist President Masoud Pezeshkian, who campaigned on openness to the West before the war, may try to change the regulations to allow women to be licensed. 

“It’s time to move past the invisible walls of cultural judgment and bureaucratic rules,” the Shargh newspaper said in September. 

“For women, riding a motorcycle is not just a way to commute but a symbol of choice, independence and equal presence in society.”

Benham, says riding her motorbike also gave her the first positive interaction she’s had with the police.

“For the first time, a police officer — well, actually, a traffic officer — made me feel encouraged and safer. I could feel that there was some kind of support,” she said. “Even the times they gave me warnings, they were technical ones — like where to park, not to do certain things or to always wear a helmet.”