Fleeing Sudan, praying that both mother and baby will live

No room for the injured or sick

Amid this chaos stands Neloumta, a 38-year-old midwife supported by CARE. Her hands are often the first to touch new life in this dire setting. But the challenges she faces are immense.

“Sometimes I have to deliver several babies at the same time,” she says. “One time, there were four deliveries all at once. I only have two beds, so I had two women on the beds, one in a chair, and one on the floor under the table.”

When supplies run out, Neloumta needs to improvise.

“I have some gloves and one plastic sheet. I clean them with disinfectants when I can,” she says. “I often have to ask the pregnant women’s husbands to bring me water, gloves, or medicine, but many can’t afford these things. Sometimes, I simply deliver and pray there is no infection. I just have to hope that both mother and baby survive.”

Despite these challenges, Neloumta works tirelessly. Her days are long, stretching from early morning into the dead of night.

“I work all the time,” she tells us with a weary smile. “When I sleep, I get called back for deliveries. Last night, I was called twice. The first baby came in 42 minutes without complications, and the second took 53 minutes. Both,” she says with pride, “are healthy.”

A fight to save lives

Even though she’s exhausted, Neloumta’s passion for her work remains unshaken.

“I am not tired. I love my job. I am the first contact for a new human coming into this world,” she says.

Still, the workload is overwhelming. Often, she has to choose between cooking herself a meal or getting an extra hour of sleep.

The need for help here is staggering. There are an estimated 350,000 pregnant women displaced in Sudan. As of November, 2024, nearly 86,000 of them were expected to give birth in the next 90 days. Without proper care, many of those women and babies won’t survive.

For Mariam, her family, and countless others like them, survival depends on this health center, but its resources are already stretched beyond their limit. Still, the resilience of people like Neloumta shines through, offering hope when it feels like there’s none left.

Amidst the bustle outside, Mariam holds Mustafa close. The weight of her uncertainty is palpable. But even here, on a tarp under an unforgiving sky, she clings to the fragile hope that somehow, they will find a way forward.

“The situation is getting worse,” Neloumta says, looking at the crowds around her inside the clinic. “We are still here trying to save lives, but if we do not get the support we need, mothers and babies will die. We need to make sure this does not happen.”