A couple of days ago, I walked through the IDP centers in Axum, and immediately, the reality of the suffering of the IDPs was evident. These spaces, which should serve as shelters for those who have fled their homes to escape forceful, illegal occupation by Amhara Forces and resulting displacement from Western Tigray, instead appear to be places where their suffering simply continues under a different set of challenges. As I observed families and individuals displaced by genocidal war as well as ongoing forceful and illegal occupation by Amhara Forces, I was overwhelmed by the gravity of their situation – one that goes far beyond the bounds of what my imagination is designed to handle.
The first shock came with the intense heat, stifling and oppressive, pressing down on people who have no access to shaded areas. The makeshift shelters fail to provide any real relief from the scorching heat. The oppressive warmth makes the lack of water in these camps even more unbearable. Water is a basic necessity, yet it is painfully scarce here, as excessively limited rations mean many go without the hydration they desperately need. The need for sufficient water is as obvious as it is unmet, a deficiency that’s both dangerous and dehumanizing.
Sanitation, too, is a pressing concern. Facilities are in short supply and poorly maintained. Many families share latrines with inadequate hygiene measures, risking their health in spaces that lack basic cleanliness. The absence of proper sanitation facilities has led to a distressing level of contamination and an almost palpable risk of disease. In a crowded environment where the most vulnerable—children, the elderly, and the ill—are at constant risk, sanitation lapses can mean the difference between health and life-threatening illness. It’s hard to convey the full reality here: the fear that each unsanitary encounter might spell the start of an outbreak, compounding an already unspeakable humanitarian crisis.
Perhaps the most heart-wrenching aspect of my visit was the hunger. Starvation has settled into these camps in a way that is difficult to describe yet impossible to ignore. Food distribution is infrequent, and when it does happen, the rations are hardly enough to sustain even the most meager existence. Mothers look down at empty bowls, trying to ration what little they have among their children. Fathers struggle to maintain a semblance of hope as they watch their families grow thinner, each day a reminder of the brutal hunger gnawing at their bodies. The elderly, who require nourishment to sustain their frail health, often go without, waiting patiently for whatever small portion they can manage to get.
The silence is almost louder than words; it is a silence born not of peace, but of deprivation and resignation. In this silence, young children wait patiently, their expressions devoid of the joy and light that should mark a child’s life. Hunger is more than a physical sensation here; it is a pervasive atmosphere, an ongoing fight that consumes every thought and every ounce of energy. It is hunger as a way of life, hunger that steals away their potential, their health, and their hope.
Though UNHCR is responsible for administering these IDP centers and Care International provides food distribution, the response so far is insufficient for the magnitude of the crisis unfolding in Axum’s IDP centers. These organizations work within limited budgets and often face bureaucratic delays, but the result is a stark shortfall between the resources provided and the desperate needs of the population. The scale of the suffering is immediate, but the assistance trickles in at a slow, often ineffective rate, leaving those who have suffered displacement still yearning for the basics of human dignity.
The people within these camps are not just numbers on a report or faces on a screen. They are individuals with stories, families, and memories of lives they once had before the genocidal war drove them here. Each person carries the weight of trauma, compounded by the deprivation they endure every day within these makeshift camps. The young mother clutching her child who cries from hunger, the elder sitting alone with eyes that seem to search the horizon for any sign of hope, the fathers whose arms have grown thin from sharing their food with their children – they all deserve more than this ongoing neglect.
One might think, in the 21st century, that the world would have found ways to address crises of this scale with efficiency and compassion. But walking through these IDP centers feels like stepping into a forgotten corner of the world where humanitarian aid has fallen short, and political resolve to help these people has all but faded away. The displaced in Tigray’s camps do not want pity; they need action. They need immediate and consistent access to water, adequate food to restore health and dignity, and clean, safe sanitation facilities to prevent further health crises. These are not luxuries; they are the minimum requirements for human survival.
This is a call not just for aid organizations but for governments, civil societies, and all those with the power to make a difference. The international community must recognize the severity of the conditions in these IDP centers and commit to urgent intervention that provides a sustainable solution. Without increased pressure, without immediate action, those in Axum and other Tigray camps will continue to suffer in plain sight, their pain becoming an unbearable testament to humanitarian failure.
As I left the IDP centers, I carried with me an unsettling sense of guilt, of witnessing suffering that no human being should endure. The faces of those left behind lingered in my mind – silent, sunken, enduring. We cannot look away. This is a moment to amplify their stories and demand that the world act, now, with the compassion and urgency these people so desperately need.
