Sudanese Refugee in Libya: ``Instead of Getting an Education, My Childs Life Was Ruined``

Source: InfoMigrants (Migrant News)
*Zaitouna, a Sudanese refugee living in Libya with her family of five, shares with InfoMigrants her immense suffering after her seven-year-old son, *Louka, was raped at school. She describes the agonizing struggle to secure medical treatment for him amidst their extreme vulnerability and lack of support, adding another layer to the cycles of violence they experienced both before and after fleeing Sudan.

With a firm voice that reflects resilience and patience, Zaitouna recounts the tragedy that befell her son at school—the ultimate trauma in the family’s grueling journey as they strive to escape violence in both Sudan and Libya:

"After tremendous effort, I managed via social media to retrieve and bring the birth certificate of my youngest son, seven-year-old Louka, from Sudan. I was overjoyed because he was the only one among his siblings whom I managed to enroll in school in Libya, as we had lost all our identification documents after fleeing our country. I wanted him to get an education so he wouldnt end up like his older brother and sister, who couldnt go to school, leaving me to struggle with educating them at home.

Thus, I managed to register my son in a school with mixed-level classrooms. Even within a single classroom, children are not of the same age, as there are students who are academically delayed.

On the first of April, Louka returned home, spoke to no one, and covered himself with a blanket. I discovered he hadnt eaten his sandwich. I tried to feed him myself, but he wouldnt eat. He was in pain. He told me, I hurt from behind; a student stabbed me with a branch from behind in the bathrooms. I shuddered, and my blood pressure spiked. I nearly fainted. I examined him, but I did not grasp the full scale of the catastrophe that he expressed in words without understanding their meaning.

My husband was at work. I called out to my neighbor, who rents the second room of the apartment with her family, and I called my friend. They advised me to go to the International Organization for Migration (IOM). Louka’s pain intensified, and he could no longer stand or walk. When we reached the organization, the doctor did not examine him, stating that this was not his specialty. He handed me a slip of paper with the name of a hospital where I should seek treatment.

By then, it was 7:30 PM. I went to the hospital written on the paper. I registered and waited with my son. Two hours later, a doctor called her colleague. They told me, We do not have a forensic medicine department here; you must prove he was raped. Go to another hospital, and gave me its name. I went there, only to be told, The forensic medicine department is closed; return tomorrow morning. I immediately rushed back to the female doctor at the first hospital and begged her, I just want treatment, I dont want forensics, just treat him.

While we were talking, a surgeon passed by and said, We cannot do anything for you. A police report must be filed with hospital security; go to them. At this point, I overcame my fear, given that we had no documents other than our UNHCR registration card, and my husband had arrived. We spoke with security. They told us, This is not under our jurisdiction. Go to the security directorate of another district, which was very far from where we were.

It was now 10:30 PM. We went to the security office in the other district. They told us, Yes, we will write the report for you, but first, bring your documents, get him treated, and then come back to us.

Our nerves were completely shattered. On the way back, it occurred to me to go to a private hospital in our neighborhood and not mention that our son had been raped. Indeed, we entered the hospital and I told the doctor, My son is injured from behind. He examined him, called my husband, took him aside outside the hospital, and told him, Your son has been raped. I will prescribe an ointment for him. He asked about the age of the student who assaulted him and agreed to write the report. We were able to secure the ointment.

Media reports have highlighted instances where pregnant migrant women were denied entry to hospitals in Libya, a fact confirmed by human rights activists. Tarik Lamloum, director of the Benghazi Center for Migration and Refugee Studies and advocacy officer at Belaady Organization for Human Rights, explained to InfoMigrants that Generally, medical treatment is available to residents in Libya who possess documentation. Previously, there was no issue entering public hospitals, though it varies by city. However, last year there was a security crackdown, and even private clinics were banned from receiving migrants. The matter is left to the whim of the doctor or the hospital staff on duty, but they are frequently rejected based on their skin color, particularly Sub-Saharan Africans.

The next morning, we went to the school administration. The administration completely denied that anything had happened. The social worker arrived, and they brought in all the students who could have potentially committed the assault—everyone in the fifth grade who shared the specific name my son had provided. They were older, between 14 and 17 years old. However, every time my son was asked to point out the perpetrator, he became terrified and backed away.

Based on this, the social worker decided to dismiss the incident, saying, Nothing happened, and nothing like this will ever happen. The administration refused to recognize the medical report. I told them, I cannot guarantee my childs safety in this school. The social worker replied, You know what is best for your child. I thought to myself, I wish he had never gone to school. All I wanted was for him to be able to communicate with people, read, and write.

I returned later to ask the school administration if it would be possible for him just to take his exams. They told me I had to write a formal request asking for that without mentioning the reason for suspending his attendance. Despite being the aggrieved party, they showed no leniency regarding the exam fees, refusing to let me pay just before the exam rather than at the start of the term.

Louka’s condition worsened. Recently, he developed involuntary urination (bedwetting). He became more aggressive, starting to hit his siblings, and he now prefers isolation, covering himself with a blanket for no reason. He suffers from severe pain, especially at night. I apply the ointments and massage him so he can rest a little. His siblings found out about it. They used to hit or annoy him, but now they are beginning to understand and show patience with him. We are living through a deeply agonizing experience that will take a great deal of time to process and heal from.

The UNHCR stated that they have escalated my complaint. They invited me and Louka to an awareness session, but the topic was irrelevant to what he endured; it focused on documentation, birth, death, and marriage certificates. They promised to follow up on the case, but time is passing and my son needs immediate psychological and medical support.

"My husband and I are in our late late forties," Zaitouna says. "Our two other sons are 13 and 11 years old. We arrived in Libya in October 2022. We fled Sudan due to tribal conflicts that claimed the life of my father. When I arrived at his house in 2019, he had already been killed, and fires were consuming all the homes. I was carrying Louka in my arms at the time, while my husband had gone ahead carrying our other two sons. The moment I discovered my father’s murder, the attackers struck me on the head and raped me after I defended my baby in my arms, whom they were molesting, claiming he wasn’t a boy and attempting to mutilate his genitals. I completely lost hearing in my right ear due to the severity of the beating.

We decided to go to Libya and attempt to reach Europe. We lost our identification documents along the migration routes to Libya, including my certificate for a Technical Diploma in Nursing. We were detained for two weeks in Ajdabiya, during which everything we had—the money we managed to bring out of Sudan—was stolen, and we barely ate or drank. Then, we were trafficked into forced labor to pick fruit on a farm in Al-Marj in the Jabal al-Akhdar region, where we were held captive for two months. At the farm, we began to meet people, eventually escaped, and sought to change our reality. We then registered with the UNHCR.

Since then, we have been living on the outskirts of Tripoli in a room with a rent of 450 dinars [about 70], while another family rents the second room of the apartment. We receive no assistance of any kind, neither for housing nor anything else, and medical services and examinations have stopped. I work in cleaning; I wash everything—carpets, chairs, and dishes—for a wage that does not exceed 20 dinars [about 3] for 9 hours of work. I can no longer bear heavy weights; I have herniated discs in three vertebrae of my back. I suffer from chronic pain across the right side of my body due to the prior beatings. I have permanent numbness in my right hand. I constantly take blood pressure and blood-thinning pills at my own expense.

In Libya, I was robbed once by a building guard while looking for housing; he stole my days wages and my phone right in front of my children and husband. On another occasion, when I protested at the end of the day about not being paid my wages, the homeowner pushed me, and I fell down the stairs.

Even my husband frequently returns home after work without being paid his daily wage. At the end of 2024, my husband was beaten inside our home by one of the tenants, a Libyan national, over a water issue in the building. We were unable to get him emergency medical care, and the doctor we went to at the time told us, It is not our duty to protect you. After a legal case that lasted more than a year, the perpetrator was acquitted. My eldest son suffers from constant bullying because he resembles a famous Nigerian TikToker. Wherever he goes, when people see him, they force him to dance or dance in front of him. The boy has developed a severe complex from this and never leaves the house anymore."