One of the world's largest and oldest refugee communities begins to go home

by Newton Kanhema and Wendy Rappeport

Mzilal Kidane Maasho hugged and kissed her longtime neighbors as grandchildren wailed around her and tears ran down her cheeks. Her husband, Kidane Maasho, also sobbed uncontrollably, as he defiantly insisted, "I have been waiting for this day for 20 years and I am not afraid of returning home. It is sad that I am leaving my friends behind, but I am going back to the land that God gave the Eritreans."

It was a bittersweet moment for the elderly couple, ending deep friendships born in the harshest physical and emotional conditions imaginable, but looking forward to returning to a homeland that has changed dramatically but which they have never forgotten.

As many as 500,000 civilians fled to Sudan during a bitter 30-year war that followed Ethiopia's annexation of Eritrea in the Horn of Africa in 1962.

The Maashos fled two decades ago after their village was bombed incessantly by Ethiopian warplanes, and 13 neighbors were murdered by soldiers.

They escaped through the desert, pushing a tiny herd of 20 cattle, donkeys and goats ahead of them. Some collapsed because of the dreadful heat before the family reached the comparative safety of Sudan where they joined what eventually became one of the largest and oldest refugee communities in the world.

Life in this part of Africa is harsh. Winds sweep off the desert, across an unforgiving landscape virtually devoid of trees or even shrubs. It is one of the hottest places on earth during the day with temperatures soaring regularly into the 40s followed by bitterly cold nights.

Initially, Maasho took a job as a builder's assistant in the frontier town of Kassala, earning the equivalent of $2 per week. One by one, he sold his remaining cattle to help his family survive. Eventually, they were forced to move by local authorities into one of the scores of refugee camps which had taken root in the area.

A few basics such as survival rations and a small plot of land were provided in the Wad Sherife camp. But it was always a life lived on the edge. There was no land to grow crops and not even any firewood to collect from the empty landscape, compelling them to buy tiny amounts of charcoal for cooking whenever they had saved a few cents.

A NEW LIFE

They built two mud huts and an outside toilet on a small plot. Small sticks were gathered slowly and painfully to construct a makeshift picket fence around their homestead. Privacy and security are essential in the noisy sprawl of a huge refugee camp which is always prone to hardship and violence such as rape.

There was no work, simply a life of numbing boredom and waiting. The Maashos made friends and raised seven children in these forbidding surroundings.

As they grew older, the children drifted away – into the Eritrean army, to Kenya and Saudi Arabia, sometimes losing contact with their parents as they disappeared into a widening refugee diaspora. One returned 'home' to Eritrea earlier this year. Another died only a few months ago. The Maashos drifted into old age in their exile, having to rely on the largesse of one of two married daughters living in a nearby town for the cents to buy their charcoal and food.

While life in such camps is reduced to one thing, survival, events on the 'outside' moved on. Eritrea peacefully seceded from Ethiopia in 1993. Refugees abandoned the camps to return home or seek a new life in other countries.

As political conditions improved in the region, UNHCR began registering refugees, some of whom had been away for more than 30 years, to go home. The Maashos were among the first to sign up.

But war again intervened and new floods of exiles arrived. The repatriation was put on hold when Ethiopia and Eritrea fought each other to a standstill in a conflict which finally ended in June last year. Tens of thousands of persons were killed in a conflict where deaths became so indiscriminate and widespread, it resembled at times the mass slaughter of World War I battles.

In May, UNHCR eventually began the repatriation of at least some of the more than 170,000 Eritreans still in Sudan. Despite anticipated interruptions during the rainy season, the refugee agency planned to return home by arduous road convoy more than 60,000 Eritreans this year and continue road convoys until the end of 2002.

"We have always wanted to return. We have been waiting for this opportunity for as long as we have lived here," Kidane Maasho said in the last remaining minutes before heading home. Other Eritreans married locally, obtained jobs or remained skeptical about retracing their steps across the African Horn and returning to a country they now know little about.

None of the Maasho children were on hand for the farewells though three grandchildren arrived to squeal their goodbyes. "Sudan has been very good to me and my family," the old man said through an interpreter. And his final words: "When I came to Sudan (a strictly Islamic country where alcohol is forbidden) I used to drink beer and for the past 20 years I have not had a single one. I think it will be nice to enjoy my beer again when I return."

GOING HOME

The Eritrean town of Tesseney serves as a staging point for many of the returnees. Their welcome is often festive, but they face a difficult future. Eritrea is one of the world's poorest countries and there is little spare money to help people returning with nothing. In addition to the harsh climate, years of war have wrecked the infrastructure. Many refugees have no homes, water, electricity or land to go back to.

While the refugees return from Sudan, an estimated 1.1 million people displaced by the war with Ethiopia are also beginning to go home, creating further headaches.

But for the moment these uncertainties are forgotten. Unlike their departure from Sudan, a daughter was on hand to greet the Maashos and rented two rooms for them. "I thank my God to have kept me this long to see this day," Kidane Maasho said. "I am old and weak, but I have finally made it home." His wife added, "We are old and we want to rest. We have done our part."

A nephew jetted in from the United States with his children and the Maashos made the 10 hour road trip to the Eritrean capital of Asmara to be reunited after 17 years. Other friends and relatives visited.

The couple moved into a room on the site of a church overlooking spring waters with reported healing properties. Both suffer from failing eyesight and each morning the couple join other pilgrims to bathe and pray for a cure in the spring.

A repatriation grant of 2,000 nakfa ($180) has almost been spent and the couple will move back to the west after Mzilal Kidane Maasho undergoes surgery. But despite this uncertain future, the couple is optimistic and happy.

And, yes, Kidane says, "I've finally also had that beer – it was cold and delicious."

Source: Refugees Magazine Issue 124: "The Balkans: What Next?" (October 2001). Download the complete issue (pdf, 2.2Mb) here