A Sudanese girl, who lost her right arm because of injuries sustained in the civil war, leaves an elementary school run by the Sudanese Coalition for Education in partnership with the United Nations International Children's Emergency Fund (Unicef), south of Port Sudan. In Sudan, where a war between the army and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces has killed tens of thousands and triggered one of the world’s largest humanitarian crises, more than eight million children are currently out of school, according to the UN’s children’s agency
FOR more than three years, I have watched the images coming out of Gaza, and like so many of you, my heart has been torn open by what I see: children pulled from rubble, mothers screaming names that no one answers, an entire population starved and bombed in full view of the world.
We have marched, posted and donated because we understand instinctively that some horrors cannot be met with silence. But here is the question that has been burning inside me, and I am going to ask it plainly even though it makes me uncomfortable: why do so many of us, especially here in Africa, turn our faces away when the same carnage happens just a few thousand kilometres north of us?
