In the refugee camps of eastern Chad, where nearly one million Sudanese have sought shelter from a war that began in 2023, a displaced education administrator named Sahra has rebuilt her vocation from the ground up — leading a school of over a thousand children with almost none of the materials a school requires. Her story is one humanity has witnessed before: the stubborn insistence on learning as an act of survival, carried forward by those who have lost everything except their purpose. What hangs in the balance is not only the future of these children, but the question of whether the wider
Sudanese Teacher Leads Refugee School in Chad Despite Severe Resource Shortages
Nearly one million Sudanese refugees displaced by war have fled to Chad; hundreds of unaccompanied children remain out of school and vulnerable to exploitation and violence.
Education prevents them from early marriage and violence.
Mark
Why does Sahra's story matter beyond the immediate crisis in Chad?
Mimi
Because it shows that displacement doesn't erase people's skills or purpose. Sahra was trained to lead schools. The war took her home, but not her capacity. She's now serving 1,059 children in conditions most of us would find unimaginable.
Mark
What's the tension between what the school is doing and what it needs?
Mimi
The school is functioning—children are learning, being protected from violence, building friendships across ethnic lines. But it's functioning on fumes. No electricity, no toilets, no desks. Teachers are adapting to a foreign curriculum while managing language barriers. It works because people like Sahra refuse to let it fail, not because the system is adequate.
Mark
You mentioned unaccompanied children as a separate problem. Why are they different?
Mimi
They're invisible to the school system. Hundreds of them lost their parents during the escape from Darfur. They wander the camps with no one to advocate for them, no one to push them toward education. Parents in the camp see them as a threat—potential recruits for criminal groups—because they have nothing to lose.
Mark
Is there a path forward, or is this a holding pattern?
Mimi
Right now it's a holding pattern. The funding gap is enormous—83 percent unfunded. But there's something else: the recognition that Sudanese teachers bring value to Chad's own education crisis. That's not charity. That's mutual benefit. If that framing takes hold, maybe the resources follow.
Mark
What would Sahra say if you asked her why she keeps going?
Mimi
She'd probably say what she already said: "Illiteracy is very dangerous. I want the children to be optimistic about the future because education prevents them from early marriage and violence." She's not thinking about herself. She's thinking about what education can do for children who have lost everything.
Der Puls
- A war that shattered millions of lives in Sudan has sent nearly one million refugees into Chad, overwhelming a country already struggling to educate its own children.
- Sahra's school runs two daily shifts for 1,059 pupils with no electricity, no toilets, no desks, and only 17% of the funding it was promised — a daily confrontation with scarcity.
- Language barriers, curriculum differences, and early ethnic tensions between Sudanese and Chadian children have tested the school's cohesion, though time and shared classrooms have slowly softened those divides.
- Hundreds of unaccompanied children still wander the camps outside any school, and parents warn openly that without education, these young people risk being drawn into violence and crime.
- Teachers, parents, and aid workers are pressing for solar panels, school meals, health clinics, and vocational programs — the minimum infrastructure needed to keep children inside a classroom and out of danger.
In the refugee camps of eastern Chad, where nearly one million Sudanese have sought shelter from a war that began in 2023, a displaced education administrator named Sahra has rebuilt her vocation from the ground up — leading a school of over a thousand children with almost none of the materials a school requires. Her story is one humanity has witnessed before: the stubborn insistence on learning as an act of survival, carried forward by those who have lost everything except their purpose. What hangs in the balance is not only the future of these children, but the question of whether the wider world will honor that insistence with the resources it demands.
Sahra grew up in West Darfur determined to make her way through education in a world that favored boys. She earned her degree in education administration, built a career around teaching, and then watched it all collapse when war erupted between Sudan's armed forces and the Rapid Support Forces in April 2023. She fled to Chad, joining nearly one million Sudanese refugees who have crossed the border into one of Africa's most strained host countries.
In the eastern camps, families arrived to find open ground and no schools. By 2024, Plan International and its partners had established a primary school in one of those camps, and Sahra became its head. She now leads 30 teachers — almost all of them Sudanese refugees — who together serve 1,059 pupils across two daily shifts. The curriculum spans mathematics, science, history, Arabic, and French, but adapting to Chad's educational system has been difficult. One teacher, Oummalnas, who also fled el-Geneina, described the Chadian syllabus as harder than Sudan's and called for more training workshops. Early friction between Sudanese and Chadian children has gradually given way to shared classrooms and shared play.
For parents, the school represents something beyond learning — it is protection. Charfadine, who arrived with his family during the 2023 rains, sends three of his children there and speaks of it as a shield against the violence circulating through the camps. But hundreds of unaccompanied children remain outside any school, and another parent, Nasradine, warned plainly that their exclusion puts the entire camp at risk. Mothers like Roukhaya, who walked ten hours to reach Chad, have watched older teenagers drop out because no secondary schools or vocational programs exist. In large families, only some children attend while others work.
The material conditions are severe. The 2026 Sudan Regional Refugee Response Plan received just 17% of required funding. At Sahra's school, there is no electricity, no running water, no accessible facilities for children with disabilities, and not enough desks. Teachers and parents are asking for solar panels, school meals, and a mobile health clinic — the basics. A Chadian education officer sees Sahra's presence as a gift to his country, a bridge between two peoples who share deep historical ties. Sahra herself has found, in exile, that she is still doing what she always meant to do. The question the world has not yet answered is whether it will give her what she needs to keep doing it.
Sahra grew up in el-Geneina, the capital of West Darfur in Sudan, determined to excel in a classroom where boys dominated. After passing her national exams in 2005 and 2006, she pursued a university degree in education administration, volunteering in schools while she studied. She had built a life around teaching. Then, in April 2023, the war between Sudan's armed forces and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces shattered everything.
The conflict has displaced millions across Sudan. Chad, sharing a long eastern border with its neighbor, has absorbed a staggering share of those fleeing. Nearly one million Sudanese refugees have crossed into Chad, making it one of Africa's largest refugee-hosting countries. In the eastern camps, families arrived to find little more than open ground and trees. Schools did not exist.
Today, Sahra heads a primary school in one of those camps. Plan International and partner organizations established it in 2024. The school now enrolls 1,059 pupils taught by 30 teachers—nearly all of them refugees from Sudan, including Sahra herself. She leads from the front line of a crisis that has no end in sight.
Chad was already struggling with education before the refugee influx. More than two million young people in the country cannot read or write. According to UNICEF, three out of every four pupils nationwide are taught by instructors whose own schooling stopped at secondary level. The arrival of nearly one million Sudanese refugees has strained an already fragile system. To fit the students, the school runs two shifts—morning and evening—covering mathematics, science, history, geography, Arabic, and French.
Teaching in exile carries its own weight. Sudanese teachers must adapt to Chad's curriculum while navigating language divides. Chadian children speak local dialects; many Sudanese pupils speak Arabic. One teacher, Oummalnas, who fled el-Geneina in 2024, teaches mathematics and Arabic. "The teaching syllabus in Sudan is easy, but the one in Chad is difficult for us," she said. "We need more workshops to improve our teaching skills and adapt to the Chadian system." Early tensions between Sudanese and Chadian children have eased over time. Now they learn and play together. Plan International also operates safe spaces for children under five, offering psychosocial support where formal kindergartens do not exist.
For parents in the camp, school means more than education—it means safety. Charfadine arrived with his family during heavy rains in 2023. Back in West Darfur, his children attended school regularly until the conflict forced them to flee. Three of them now attend primary school in Chad. "We are happy when they go to school here because it's a receptive place," he told Al Jazeera. "It protects them from the violence coming from criminal groups." His ambitions for them remain tied to Sudan: he wants them to become teachers and doctors who will serve their homeland.
But hundreds of unaccompanied children—young people who lost their parents while fleeing Darfur—remain outside school, wandering the camps. Another parent, Nasradine, warned of the danger: "If those children remain outside school, our camps will be in danger. This group could turn to crime and make our place unsafe." For mothers like Roukhaya and Zenab, who walked ten hours to reach the Chadian border, life in the camps feels harder than life under war. Roukhaya's children entered formal schooling for the first time in Chad, but she has watched older teenagers drop out because no high schools or vocational programs exist. In families with six or seven children, parents often send only two or three to school while the rest collect firewood, fetch water, or search for casual work. Every Friday, community centers hold awareness sessions reminding families that education matters, even in displacement.
All of this unfolds amid catastrophic resource scarcity. The 2026 Sudan Regional Refugee Response Plan received only 17 percent of the funding it required—an 83 percent shortfall. Education remains among the least supported sectors. At Sahra's school, the shortage is visible daily. There are no flush toilets, no electricity, no accessible facilities for children with disabilities. Pupils sit packed together on the ground or share benches. Teachers and parents are asking for basics: solar panels for lighting, a mobile health clinic, school meals, enough desks. Yet Abakar Mahamat Nour, an Education Officer with a Chadian nongovernmental organization, sees something larger in Sahra's presence. "Chad and Sudan are like brothers; we share families," he said. "Having people like Sahra coming from Sudan to teach our children is a benefit for our country. They help our students gain new cultural perspectives and build new friendships." Sahra lost the life she had built as a teacher and administrator in West Darfur. In exile, she has found herself doing what she had always planned to do: teaching children. The question now is whether the world will give her the resources to do it.
Bemerkenswerte Zitate
Illiteracy is very dangerous. I want the children to be optimistic about the future because education prevents them from early marriage and violence.— Sahra, head teacher
We are happy when they go to school here because it's a receptive place. It protects them from the violence coming from criminal groups.— Charfadine, parent in the camp
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