Would-be refugees going hungry in forest

It would be easy to miss the Central Africans squatting in Bekoningka. Driving into the southern Chadian border village, low igloo-like huts camouflaged with leaves are the only obvious sign they are there. But minutes after an aid agency jeep pulled up, over 50 people had crept out of the forest. According to their representative, many of the mostly women and children walked up to 60 kilometres through thick forest to get to Chad, after fleeing fighting between government loyalists and rebels in their villages over the border. Exhausted, they stopped in the first Chadian settlement they came to. And there could now be more than 100 Central Africans hidden in the trees around the village, according to the head of the Chadian border police at Bekoningka, Kally Hassan. Some have been there longer than two months, Hassan said. In four major refugee camps less than 40 kilometres north of the village, basic shelter and protection is provided to 48,000 CAR refugees by the UN's refugee agency UNHCR. But the new arrivals have been told by the local authorities that they must wait to be registered at Bekoningka before they can move to the camps. Life for the squatters is hard, even by local standards, in a region where few can afford even the basics, and low prices for cotton, the region's main crop, has devastated incomes this year. As the rainy season sets in, the refugees' only shelters are flimsy huts they have hastily built out of dry leaves, rubbish and debris found in the forest. And many of the youngest are barely surviving on the occasional handouts from villagers, gifts from passing Central African traders, and plants they find to eat in the forest. A total 63 children from around Bekoningka and two other crossing points for CAR refugees have been diagnosed with malnutrition in the last three weeks, according to health workers. "Our children are sick, and they are starving. We can't live here much longer," said Ahmat Ateib, the refugee group's delegate, as the circled women nodded their agreement. One adult man died of an illness in his leafy hut four days before IRIN met them on Sunday, Ateib added. "We're waiting for help here in Chad, but it's not coming, and there are bandits in the forest back there," he said, gesturing towards CAR on the other side of the river. Chadian border police said they often see armed groups coming right up to the river which divides CAR and Chad, although they say never crossing. The problem with starting the process to move the refugees to the camps and getting them tents, sanitation facilities, and healthcare, is purely administrative, according to UNHCR. The local authorities at Bekoningka must send a note to the regional prefect at Gore, 40 kilometres away. A Chadian government organisation - CENU - must then accompany UNHCR to assess the number of refugees. An unwieldy process that could take weeks in itself, after which the refugees will still have to wait through another month of interviews to weed out Chadians, soldiers, and other non-refugees, according to UNHCR staff. The squatters in Bekoningka are oblivious to the bureaucratic nuances of their status. Over the clamour of women shouting out their children's names, thinking they are being written down on registration lists, and that they will finally receive the coloured bracelets entitling them to be trucked to the camps, the group's representative pleaded again for action. "Some of the people here had already been living in the bush for a long time before they managed to get over the border," said Ateib. "They were exhausted already, before this."