I did not expect to hear from the women seated in a makeshift tent at Arkoum refugee camp in eastern Chad, 43 miles from the Sudan border. On that 86-degree day last December, we met with several leaders of newly arrived Sudanese refugees. Many of these leaders were elderly men who sat prominently on mats and spoke first, as was the custom.
In a corner of the tent, a small group of women had gathered quietly. When one of the women, Fatouma Yahoub, spoke out, her words left me stunned. “It’s always the women who shoulder all the burdens!” she said, raising her voice. “Since we crossed the border, humanitarian agencies have been helping us, but the aid is insufficient.”
“The women have the courage to go out to the market,” she continued. “The women dare collect firewood. The women venture into the host community to look for work—washing, cleaning, anything. Why do we always carry all the responsibility?” Her bold words left me stunned.
Most Sudanese refugees are female.
Women make up the vast majority of refugees from Sudan. Since the conflict’s re-escalation in April 2023, more than 700,000 people have fled Sudan and travelled to Chad. According to statistics from aid organizations, nine out of 10 of these refugees are women and children. This pattern mirrors the crises of other refugees: Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh, Syrian refugees in Jordan, and most recently, Ukrainian refugees. When women are displaced, they often must step into new roles of leadership. However, as a communicator, I rarely see women community leaders challenge male community leaders in public.
Later, I spoke with Fatouma and other women in more private settings. What I heard was both difficult and heartbreaking. Sawakil Ousman described how she fled genocide in Darfur with her five-year-old daughter, enduring “safe zone” bombings and abandonment by her husband. After three days on foot, carrying only her sick child, she reached the Adré refugee reception center across the border in Chad, where her daughter received treatment for anemia.
Hadja Adam, 64, fled El Geneina, the capital of West Darfur, Sudan. She can barely walk, as her legs are swollen from diabetes. She is unable to work. The sole caregiver for her granddaughter Mawda, Hadja has spent a year telling the little girl that her parents are “still traveling.” They rely on neighbors for food.
Najjwa gave birth after being driven on a tricycle for three hours through the desert while she was in labor. She needed a Caesarean section, but the refugee camp did not have the medical facilities needed. Miraculously, Najjwa and her baby lived, although many women are not as fortunate. Traditional midwives told me they feel helpless in refugee camps where families lack even a single blanket, let alone proper medical care.
Seeing Hagar today.
The Chad-Sudan border region includes the Sahel—a semi-arid area between Sudan’s humid savannas and the Sahara Desert to the north. Arkoum, like other camps that have sprung up in the last two years for Sudanese refugees, sits on the sand. People displaced from their homes now live in simple huts made of metal sheets, or even dried grass. In their host community, electricity only comes from solar panels and generators. Water comes only from seasonal rivers. To have a chance of surviving here, people need endurance and resourcefulness.
The Bible tells us that, like the women at Arkoum, Hagar was a woman alone in the desert with her child. God, who guided Hagar, “saw” her suffering (see Genesis 21:13-21). Today, God, who guides and works through us, is calling us to “see” Hagar’s sisters who seek help in refugee camps.
The crisis faced by Sudanese refugees remains largely unseen by the world. Only 20 percent of the necessary aid has been provided, which leaves host communities in eastern Chad (vulnerable communities that are already food-insecure) to shoulder the burden of nearly one million refugees. This further contributes to conflict and disproportionately harms women. To feed their children, women eat less, work harder, and risk assault when venturing out. Girls marry young, often to ease the burden on struggling families, sometimes for a dowry.
Some women have been able to use their last savings to buy tomatoes to sell at a small profit. Others try to weave handcrafted baskets, collect firewood to sell, or do washing and cleaning for host communities. Many of the women here are breadwinners, protectors and leaders. Our Lutheran World Federation partnership and support for these women formalizes the strength they already embody.
While I was speaking with Hadja, her granddaughter Mawda entered the house in tears. Mawda has gotten into an argument with other children at the market. Hadja pulled her into her lap, murmuring something, calming the girl down. She had not eaten all day. After a while, Mawda sat up and curiously observed us, with eyes that had already seen too much for her age.
Sitting in these camps, one can soon feel helpless. The emergency is overwhelming; the conflict seems unsolvable. Yet people here ask for such small things. More blankets. Soap to wash their children. Some sugar to make traditional beignets (a donut-like pastry) for dinner. How little it would take to make their lives easier! However, for Sudanese refugees to have hope and a future, the root causes of their displacement must be addressed. Their potential and belovedness as children of God must be recognized by people around the world. Our church must tell their stories, so the world sees them, too.
The humanitarian work of the LWF is supported by the ELCA. Visit www.elca.org/ldr and click on “South Sudan Relief.”
Cornelia Kaestner-Meyer is senior communication officer at the Lutheran World Federation in Geneva, Switzerland. She writes about humanitarian and development work on lutheranworld.org.
This article appears in the June/July/August 2025 issue of Gather. To read more like it, subscribe to Gather.