I was forced to trade sex for my mother’s medicine as a Sudanese refugee

My name is N.A.; I am 17 years old and a Sudanese refugee. We fled Sudan in April 2023, when war broke out in Darfur. Like thousands of others, we crossed the border, hoping to find a safe place to start our lives over. Today, I live in a camp in Adré, in eastern Chad, with my family. But even when you escape war, life remains hard. In the camp, we rely entirely on humanitarian aid for food, healthcare and education. We receive food, medical care and sometimes training. But the needs are immense, and the wait is often long.

Over time, we get to know the humanitarian staff who come to the camp. Some help us sincerely and respectfully. But there are also times when people take advantage of our vulnerability to abuse us.

About a year ago, a young pharmacist from Médecins Sans Frontières (you may know it in English as Doctors Without Borders) began taking an interest in me. At first, he was generous when dispensing medication. He would help my family more than others by giving us extra medicine. We had very little, and that help meant a lot to us. 

Then things changed. 

One day, he brought medicine for my sick mother. She has tuberculosis, and the rest of us also take medicine as a preventative measure. But on this day, he told me he wanted to have a relationship with me. I refused. I was uncomfortable; I didn’t want that. I was 16.

After I refused, his behavior changed. It became harder to get help, and I felt constant pressure, knowing my mother needed the medication. When it was his turn to dispense the medicine, we almost never got it.  

He kept saying he loved me, that he wanted to marry me, and that he would take care of me and find me a decent job. At my age, far from my home country and in a very precarious situation, I eventually believed his promises. I believed he was sincere. 

I also thought that perhaps this was the price to pay for my family to get the medical support they needed.

“I finally gave in”

For several months, he had sexual relations with me. Sometimes he would give me money, gifts, or extra medicine. Initially, I thought he was helping me. Now, I realize he was taking advantage of my vulnerability.

The hardest part was when he started showing interest in my older sister, too. He made it clear that we would get more medical aid if we agreed to his demands. 

It became obvious I wasn’t special to him and that his intentions weren’t what he claimed. I had been deceived.

Back then, I thought this kind of situation was normal. He had led me to believe that it happened to many women and girls in the camps. I didn’t know we had the right to report such behavior, and I didn’t know there were mechanisms in place to protect us.

“For a long time, I kept quiet”

Then I found the courage to tell my family. My mother was the first person I confided in. Instead of judging me, she supported me. My family encouraged me to report what I had been through. With their help, we reported the incidents to the authorities. 

At first, I was afraid I wouldn’t be believed. I feared the consequences and the reprisals. But several people knew about the situation, and their accounts backed up my story. My sister refused to succumb to his pressure, and she seized the opportunity to denounce her abuser.

Today, the person I accused no longer works at the camp.

Even though that decision brought me relief, the wounds remain. This experience has left a deep mark on my life. I did receive psychological support and medical care. I am trying to move forward, but some things are not easily forgotten.

I often think of the other girls who are still living in silence. Many are afraid. Some fear losing the medical aid their families depend on. Others dread threats or the judgment of others. I understand that fear, because I felt it myself.

I am sharing my story today because I want things to change. Refugees need protection, respect and dignity. No one should have to choose between their safety and their survival.

My message to other victims is simple: Speak out. Even if you think no one will listen, even if you have no proof, confide in someone you trust. Silence protects the perpetrators, not the victims.

I chose to speak out. And I hope my voice can help others find the courage to do the same.