They drive huge trucks with more than thirty tons of food for displaced families in Darfur. They make long journeys behind the wheel, in challenging routes due to the difficult terrain and the danger of being attacked. At the end of the day, they must prepare their bed right next to the vehicle and fend for heating food that have been collected from the nearest market. And the next day, before resuming the path, they wash their faces with water from the same truck. It is the work of the drivers from the World Food Programme, unsung heroes who for just six dollars per day bring happiness to almost three million people, most of them in overcrowded camps.
A few days ago I accompanied one of these convoys to travel a distance of less than a hundred kilometers that took about nine hours. After breakdowns, flat tires and other incidents, ten trucks with 350 tons of food arrived in Nifasha IDP camp in North Darfur.
I felt ashamed when an IDP leader hugged me and kissed my neck right after I jumped from one of the trucks. It seemed an unfair welcome because I knew who deserved, and he was still struggling to park the vehicle in the best place to unload the humanitarian aid.