Clips from Obaasema Magazine

Inside the Ghost House AND The View From The Camps, Peace vs Justice: The uncounted vote

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Inside the Ghost House- Originally published January 2009 in Obaasema Magazine and on Obaasema.com

BY: Charles Cieri

Al-Ghali Yahya Shegifat is about to break a promise. Somewhere in Sudan there is an office drawer with a document in it. The document orders Shegifat to never tell the story he is about to begin. The man who handed him the pen was implicit in genocide, one of hundreds Shegifat faced down on a long brutal journey that brought him to this place.

He tells his story from a brick building, very unassuming, on a dark street. He does not appear to feel safe as his eyes dart around or stare off when they finally settle. His movements are fidgety as he arduously recounts his ordeal-- looking at the door, looking down at his hands, nervously shuffling a pen, looking back at the door; who did he imagine could be on the other side of that door?

The story is broken into small segments. Shegifat’s monotone voice carries a steady residual terror-- not like a person fleeing danger, like a person resigned to it-- as he recounts in Arabic. He has an almost embarrassed affect to his body language, eye contact and tone. His interpreter, by contrast, converts his confessions of torture and incommunicado-imprisonments into booming spouts of English. Shegifat’s eyes never leave the door for more than few minutes.

We are not in a secret house in Khartoum or El Fasher, where the police and security services vigorously stalk these first hand accounts. We were relatively safe and sound in the South Philadelphia’s Darfur Alert Council (DAC), 7000 miles away from the document with Shegifat’s signature. 

The story begins on May 14^th, 2008 with a cell phone call. The person on the other side of the line said: “We know where you are and we are coming to arrest you.” 

Shegifat, a freelance writer and head of the Association of Darfur Journalist says he was targeted for his reports publicizing the atrocities of the Sudanese government against the people of the Darfur region. According to the Amnesty International report he was one of 155 people arrested-- many non- military professionals, by the Sudanese police and National Intelligence and Security Services accused but not charged with aiding a May 10^th attack on Khartoum by the Justice and Equality Movement (JEM). 

Shegifat was picked up and blind folded before being taken to a warehouse, unofficial and manned by non-government security forces. He called this place a ‘Ghost House’, where it was plainly demonstrated that no law would prevent the guards from killing anyone for any reason.

He would spend part of his 65 days of captivity here, accompanied by professionals and transitional government politicians as well as the psychologically unstable. Shegifat said the only provisions were tiny rations and two bathroom trips a day. With no showers, they slept on the floors, crowded and dirty. Constant bright light, mounted on the ceiling, disoriented them. 

As Shegifat’s story progressed through settings, his groups was divided and narrowed down. Shegifat consistently named his fellow prisoners through these stages, often with their profession, home-town and age. Specifically naming nearly 30, he commented that he knew of many more.

For physical and mental effects, they were whipped with cords and beaten down to the ground, ordered to rise and beaten again if they could not. Shegifat reported internal injuries, some resulting in death. Detainees were photographed and documented numerous times while denied medical treatment, hygienic means and, outside communication.

Shegifat was eventually separated out. Blindfolded and transferred to Kober, an official prison in Khartoum. He felt a sense of relief leaving the non-existence of the Ghost House. He was right to feel the prison represented accountability; unfortunately the staff was only accountable to a brutal regime. 

Shegifat’s captures attempted to extract a confession with psychological torture but he refused, reaffirming his innocence. He was released following his signature on a document in which he promised not to engage in any activities against the state, not to transfer any Darfur-related news or work to affect public sentiment. While he disregarded this contract, his guarded demeanor demonstrates he has not disregarded the implied consequences. 

After a few more photographs, he was released without explanation. He had no clue of the international cooperation that furiously procured his release.

Suad Mansour, Shegifat’s sister, had emigrated to Philadelphia in 2000, after having her life threatened due to her support of displaced women in Darfur. Now as a board member of the DAC in Philadelphia, she had her worst fear confirmed: her brother had been sweep away to a Ghost House in the wake of the JEM attack. 

Lou Ann Merkle, Co-Founder of DAC wrote the initial report that led to an Urgent Action Alert by London based Amnesty International. Then Merkle turned the alert back to local politicians, Congresswoman Allyson Schwartz and Senator Bob Casey. Rep. Schwartz’s effort immediately resulted in Shegifat’s transfer out of the Ghost House to Kober Prison by The Sudanese Ministry of Justice.  

After another two weeks of silence, Shegfat’s sister and Merkle appealed to Senator Bob Casey, who contacted to Jendayi Frazer, Assistant Secretary for the Bureau of African Affairs urging her to investigate the detention of a Pennsylvanian constituent’s brother. Due to the timing and the Sudanese government’s fear of American pressure, it is widely believed that this letter caused Shegifat’s final release. It was reported by Amnesty International that his release was a rallying point for journalists who advocated on his behalf as well as the general population of Darfur. 

Upon his release, after signing the contract swearing him to secrecy, Shegifat began receiving calls to his cell phone. Late at night, the voice on the other end would threaten him with death, if he told his story. Shegifat did not know and would not speculate on who made these calls. As he recounted, with unwavering recall, what he had promised to forget, he appeared to fear the other end of the phone-line could be on the other side of any door. In this effect, the lawlessness of the Ghost House reaches all the way to South Philadelphia. His bravery and defiance of this reach is rare, unlike, it seems, the story they compel from him.

Shegifat is now working with the DAC to continue his advocacy. He shares this duty with others who have fled Sudan. Together they offer a compelling illustration of the picture on the ground- present and past. Like Shegifat, Amira Tibin had her life shifted by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  

After emigrating to the U.S in 1998, she returned to Sudan for a visit in 2000. She believes this trip brought her face-to-face with the beginning of the mass targeting of Darfuris in Sudan. At that time, according to Tibin, the government was targeting individual tribes for ‘Cleaning,’ and she, like many others, did not see the larger picture: “People didn’t think that the government would come for their tribe next.” 

“At that time, we already called the rebels Janjaweed, but it was still something new to see these men on horses with guns,” says Tibin. While in Niyla, the capital of Southern Darfur for six months, she says that Janjaweed robbed the local bank. The Government blamed this on the Zaghawa Tribe and used the excuse to occupy their town for three days, according to Tibin, while the real perpetrators were shortly jailed before being allowed to walk away. “The government was using the Janjaweed to terrorize Darfur long before the escalation in 2003,” says Tibin. “ They stated to wash away Zaghawa tribe in 2000, and people from all over the nation, ignored it.”

DR. Ali B. Ali-Dinar, president of Darfur Alert Council and former resident of El-Fasher Darfur, also spoke to the sliding escalation that everyone saw coming but no one could stop. He claims that shortly before Shegifat was originally contacted on his cell phone by his future tormenters, the government systematically began to funnel communication into monitored paths. By demanding that all residents register their phones, the government tightened its grip. He said in some areas the phone company, which the government in part owns, had already begun to shut down service to unregistered phones. 

The only way to corroborate and validate incredible reports, like Shegifat’s is by amassing and comparing reports for similarities and inconsistencies. It appears the Sudanese Government knows this and is taking all the steps possible to silence Darfuris. Shegifat’s status as a legitimate journalist, with years of collective reporting and a powerful first hand experience, represent something very dangerous to those who allegedly perpetuate these atrocities. 

Groups like DAC are working every available channel to find and bring these accounts to light, but they fear progressive crackdowns like the one on private communication may make the stories like Shegifat’s even more rare. Given the olympian efforts of the DAC to obtain Shegifat’s freedom, the current rarity of these stories is no surprise. Conversely it shows the great power advocacy, especially American, to interrupt the governments drive to further suffocate the tortured voices of Darfur.

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The View From The Camps, Peace vs Justice: The uncounted vote - Originally published October 2008 on Obaasema.com 

BY: Charles Cieri

Omir Al-Basir will certainly be remembered. The conclusion of his legacy of brutality, as the leader of Sudan against the Ethnic peoples of the Darfur Region, is yet to be written. Heads of state from all over the world argue over how to pursue this conclusion—through justice by bringing him to the International Criminal Court (ICC) or peace by suspending the indictment in exchange for an end to the suffering. One vote that appears to have been left out of this consensus seems to also be most proximate to the ordeal: the Darfuris themselves. 

Basir stands before overwhelming evidence of gross atrocities committed by forces under his control. He could be the first sitting head of state to be indicted by ICC, as well as the first person charged with Genocide, the highest crime recognized by the ICC. Since the escalation of violence in 2003, Basir has reportedly wielded the ruthless Janjaweed against the civilian population, resulting in murder, mutilation, institutionalized rape and destruction of villages. 

In May of this year things escalated further when an armed resistance to Basir’s rule, known as the Justice and Equality Movement, attacked state forces. The brutal reaction by the government resulted in the swelling of refugees in the neighboring state of Chad; some reports put the total number of Darfuris living in Diaspora at 2.5 million. 

Understanding the constituent

Around the same time as this recent escalation, Katie Jay Scott, the Community Outreach Coordinator of Stop Genocide Now, was traveling to the refugee camps of Eastern Chad. Her first trip to Camps Kounoungo, Mile, Farchana and Djabal, revealed more than 63 thousand refugees in varying degrees of poverty. She than traveled to the northern camp of Oure Cassoni, which houses 26 thousand refugees wilting under the advancing Sahara Desert.

Daily life in the camps is the antithesis, according to Scott, of Traditional Darfuri life.

This is a culture that for generations lived off the lands, sowing the fields, they herded animals, the kids from larger towns would ride to bicycles to school. Men would go to market, they’re life was sustaining them selves and singing and dancing associated with that. Now we asked them and they say they have nothing to do. Going from complete self-sustaining lifestyle to utter dependence, they are literally losing their culture everyday that they have to stay in the camps.

While tradition and heritage are receding, the landscape hasn’t ever been robust enough to support normality. Much of the water is pumped out of the ground and dirty, and there is little or no soap in most camps. According to Scott this crushes self-esteem. But more pressing is the lack of even more basic staples.

The Word Food program can only afford 1017 calories of food a day per refugee, half of their target minimum, and about a third of the developed world’s intake. Scott comments on some of the 2.5 million Sudanese refugees surviving on this pittance: “I saw a woman carrying a months supply of food for a family of five.”

These camps are designed to simply sustain the people who have been driven from their homes. Barely meeting that goal, Scott relays the atrocity forced upon the innocent children of the fleeing parties:

 You try to build some structure and cover it with the tent, trying to create a sense of security for the children you are watching, some of which are yours, some you grabbed while fleeing the Janjaweed and adopted into your family. As your trying to provide some stability for these children, the desert is literally taking your makeshift home. Right across the border, your land is being re-bombed in an attempt to threaten aid-workers into retreating.

Their vote: no peace without justice

While political leaders and academics debate justice vs. peace. The Consensus within the camps is there can be no peace without justice. According to Scott, those who have and still stand to lose the most do not fear the repercussions of holding Basir accountable. Rather, they despise the contrary: the idea that he may buy more time, with phony statesmanship, in order to destroy more of the Darfuri culture before being brought to justice. Even more terrifying is the fear that he may succeed in wiping away the Darfuri people from history, making generations nothing more than a rumor.

“They really don’t see this as more of a risk,” according to Scott, “if you look at the past five years, it’s almost like it doesn’t make sense to wait.” Scott reiterates that this is the consensus of the camps she visited: “There can be no peace without justice and without peace they will never be able to return home to Darfur.” 

This shows just how much the world stands to loose. A culture that is being ground into extinction refuses to succumb to the mirage of appeasement, instead making the principled decision to stand hard and choose justice. Despite the Diaspora - which just as the desert reclaims this new home, pulls at the fabric of culture - their vision never looks away from the true path back home. 

The Darfuri people at their weakest in these camps, almost barren of men due to the conflict, maintain their pride and belief that they will re-cross the border someday; not under a peace bargained from a murderer, but under justice tempered by unwavering patience. 

Scott didn’t have two many happy endings to share, save one night that she could say many went to bed with the unfamiliar feeling of hope present.

One night during Scott’s visit, a woman named Emira heard over the BBC World News Radio that the ICC was going indict Basir. “She woke up everyone in the camp and they stood up all night cheering and laughing,” said Scott. “It was literally the only time, in this camp being over taken by the desert, that they had joy and a sense that they may, one day, return home.