Rahma stands with her children at the ETM facility in Rwanda. After 13 years on the move, the family has found safety, dignity and a fresh start. © UNHCR/Eric Didier Karinganire
By Aml Albarghouti
“My name is Rahma Mohamed. I’m 46 years old. I did not flee for food, money, or anything else. I have fled in search of one thing: safety.”
Rahma sits in the waiting area of the Jugurthine Medical Centre in Tripoli, Libya, with her five children—Mohamed (19), Mojtaba’ (18), Ilaf (16), Inas (13), and Maher (6)—as they prepare to board a flight to Rwanda under the Emergency Transit Mechanism (ETM). This is not the first time Rahma has fled danger. But for the first time in many years, she carries with her a deep sense of hope.
A life changed with one bullet
Rahma was born and raised in Ad-Damazine, the capital of the Blue Nile State in Sudan, where everything changed in 2012.
That morning, as her ill father insisted on preparing breakfast for the family—a daily act of love—Rahma, her husband, their three children at the time, and her brother gathered for the meal.
“We were inside the house… it was a normal morning,” she recalls. “Then suddenly, a bullet entered our home and killed my brother, who was sitting in front of me. He died instantly.” She pauses, tears forming in her eyes.
That moment triggered the beginning of Rahma’s long journey through displacement and survival. The family, along with their entire neighbourhood, fled immediately. They carried nothing but the clothes on their backs and moved to Jalghani, a nearby village, where they stayed for three years.
When they returned to their hometown in Ad-Damazine, they found it burned to the ground. Every house was destroyed. The community they once knew—gone. Even worse, Rahma’s husband was forcibly conscripted. He was released in 2017. The family reunited and moved to Khartoum to work and save money to escape Sudan permanently.
A husband lost; a family broken
Rahma and her husband worked relentlessly in Khartoum. “We worked day and night,” she says. “He would come home late after work, and I would take care of the children. One day… he never came back. We’ve heard nothing since.”
With no answers and growing insecurity, Rahma made the brave decision to flee once more in 2018—this time to Egypt. “Life without my husband in a conflict zone was difficult. I had to think of my children.”
In Egypt, Rahma registered with UNHCR. Her children were enrolled in school, and she took on cleaning jobs to make ends meet. For a few years, life seemed to stabilize—until her children became teenagers. Then the violence started again.
“There were gangs in the neighbourhood. My sons were attacked almost every day. One day, I returned from work to find my eldest, Mohamed, unconscious on the ground. He was hospitalized for 16 days… two of those days he was in a coma.”
That moment convinced Rahma to flee once again. “If I stayed, I would lose my children,” she says. After four years in Egypt, she gathered what she could and made the journey to Libya, seeking one more chance at safety.
From one hardship to another
“We experienced things I wouldn’t wish on anyone,” she says quietly. “My daughter and I were violently harmed, and I felt completely powerless, especially as a mother, because I couldn’t protect her.” Crossing into Libya via Tobruk on foot was only the beginning of another traumatic chapter. Upon arrival, Rahma and her children were arrested and detained for two months in squalid conditions.
Eventually, they were released. With little money and no destination, they headed toward Tripoli. On the way, a taxi driver scammed them, taking what little money they had and leaving them stranded in Ajdabiya. But help came in the form of the Libyan community.
“A kind group of Libyans in Ajdabiya saw me crying with my children and helped collect money for us. Thanks to them, we made it to Tripoli.”
In Tripoli, the family registered with UNHCR and received assistance—cash, relief items, and a small roof over their heads. But life was still incredibly difficult.
“I was forced to work without pay. My children, too. For a whole year, they worked and received nothing. They were detained again. It was a nightmare that never ended.”
A new beginning
Despite everything, Rahma’s face carries something unfamiliar: hope. As she waits for her family’s evacuation to Rwanda, she speaks of a future once unimaginable.
“I am again leaving a place for safety. I hope it will be a better place. A new start. I am positive that my children will have opportunities to learn and grow there.”
Her eldest son Mohamed, now 19, smiles as he watches his younger brother Maher laugh and play nearby.
“I don’t remember much from Sudan—I was very young,” he says. “But I remember Egypt clearly. We were attacked all the time. Sometimes, gangs broke into the house and beat us when mom was out. In Libya, we were detained. We worked without pay. We never went to school.
But now I feel like we are finally going somewhere safe.”
Mohamed wants to become a pharmacist— “because my mom wants me to,” he says with a smile. “And because I want to provide for my family and compensate for my father’s absence. I’ll miss my best friend Ayman… but I hope we’ll cross paths again one day.”
Mojtaba’, the second eldest, wants to become an engineer. “It has been too much for us,” he admits, “but having my family with me makes it easier. I’ll always be there for my brother and for my mom.”
He looks down for a moment. “I miss you, dad,” he says softly. “I wish you were here today. I hope you’re alive and healthy. And I hope we make you proud.”
A life rekindled in Rwanda
Rahma and her children are settling into their new life in Rwanda under the Emergency Transit Mechanism. After years of hardship, she finally speaks with a sense of peace:
“Today I feel safe; a feeling I haven’t experienced in 13 years,” she says. I feel safe for my children. I no longer fear detention, war or anything else. Life here is beautiful. People treat us kindly”.
Her five children now have access to school, healthcare, play, and freedom; things they had been deprived of for far too long. “They started education again after such a long time,” Rahma adds. “They play football… Life is calm now. I feel free. I feel alive.”
For her sons, the change is just as powerful. “The best thing here is that we have access to education,” says Mojtaba. “I attend language classes and join football games and other sports where I can express myself.”
Mohamed echoes the same joy: “Here, I enjoy the clean environment and nature. I feel safe. I enjoy the freedom—and the dignity that comes with it.”
Beyond education, the ETM also offers life skills training, including crocheting, tailoring, and vocational classes. A driving school gives young adults like Mohamed and Mojtaba a chance to gain practical skills for the future.
From surviving day to day in Libya to planning in Rwanda in the hope of resettlement to a third country, Rahma and her children are now finally able to dream beyond displacement.
The Emergency Transit Mechanism is a life-saving initiative for very vulnerable refugees and asylum seekers in Libya to be evacuated to Rwanda, where they receive protection and assistance while durable solutions—such as resettlement, voluntary return, or local integration—are pursued.
Since its establishment in 2019, the ETM in Rwanda has helped more than 2,700 individuals find safety. [Source: UNHCR Rwanda]. (End)