When Ethics Survives Where People Do Not: A Story From Darfur

Abstract

 Healthcare Under Fire: Stories from Healthcare Workers During Armed Conflict 11 weredisrupted.Ahealthcaresystemwithoutpatients is like a cardiovascular system without blood. My family returned to Kyiv in August 2022 for our daughters to continue their schooling. There were (and still are) only five to seven kids in a class; other children left Ukraine or switched to online studies. My husband and I decided that our children will attend school offline—despite the regular missile attacks. This is a private school; we pay for it. In such a way, we want to support local businesses. Sending our kids to school every day (it takes 1.5 hours one way) and paying for their studies is a personal act of patriotism. We lived through a very challenging autumn and winter with regular blackouts, cold meals, stuck elevators, melted fridges, and uncharged smartphones and laptops. Sometimes we had no water or heat. We have learnt how terrifying and ghostly a three-million-person city looks when submerged in full darkness—with no traffic lights, glaring signboards, or luminous windows. I recollect that in November, I had a meeting with representatives from a large international charity foundation who were considering giving us a grant. The day before that meeting, Kyiv was subject to the most severe missile attack, and there was neither power, nor water, nor heating at my home. In the midst of our meeting—when I was being told that we had to introduce a more sophisticated bidding procedure and have bidders send their offers in sealed envelopes—I burst out crying. Their procedure mandates were so irrelevant! In my mind, I was seeking a solution to how my family would defecate and urinate in our apartment on the 13th floor with no power and water if the situation persisted.1 At that moment, I hated all international donors for being so absolutely out of touch with what Ukrainians were going through. Only the looming prospect of getting USD $342,000 for our assistance programs kept me at that meeting. 1 Incidentally, I found a solution to my challenge and will share it with you—this is a valuable piece of knowledge—not like that bull sheet about bidding procedures. You must buy plastic garbage bags and pet litter. And here you are! I am writing this piece at the end of May 2023. Almost every night in May, we had a missile and drone attack. It is a very bizarre feeling—in the daytime, the city looks perfectly peaceful, merry, sunlit, and busy: with kids, ice cream, scooters, blooming lilacs, and chestnut trees. At night, “the city falls asleep and the mafia gets up”. We are living two parallel lives—sunlit peaceful days and then the horror of nights full of air strike alarms, explosions, and flashes of downed missiles in the dark sky. Some people spend nights in the metro stations, sheltering their kids there. Others sleep in corridors or bathrooms where there are no windows . I opt to stay in bed and let my kids sleep. I do not want them to be traumatized—they still go to school, have picnics, and dream of roller skating with their friends over the weekend. They do not wake up at night or experience sleepless nights. I know that the cost of my attempts to preserve their childhood may be very high, but I persist. Why did we not leave the country? Finding a true answer in the entangled mix of rational and irrational considerations is difficult. First of all, I wanted to stay in Ukraine because while I am here, I can speak on behalf of Ukraine. I can be a witness. Second, I did not want to split the family—my husband is of draft age and cannot leave the country. Third, if everybody flees, who will our army fight for? I think that many families who left Ukraine will never come back. And this hurts me. We need young, ambitious, educated, open-minded, and creative people to rebuild the country. Our mission is not only to win the war but to make Ukraine better. B When Ethics Survives Where People Do Not: A Story From Darfur Ghaiath Hussein, MBBS, MSc...