People who do venture out wrap their arms around their bodies for warmth, but most stay under cover until the sun warms the land and brings the camp slowly to life at around 10.00 a.m. Only a crowd of youngsters, rushing to watch a school ceremony, could be seen braving the chill during a visit to the camp one recent morning.

At the moment food is more of a concern than the weather. Since the large-scale withdrawal of aid workers from Gereida following attacks on their compounds last December, camp residents have been wondering when they will get their rations.

When the other agencies left, the ICRC – with eight international and more than 200 national staff – became the only organization with expatriates still on the ground.

Most people's food stocks are nearly exhausted, and until the next distribution they will have to eke out what little remains. As if to prove the point, one of the camp's millers spoke about his dwindling business. "People are grinding less grain," he said. "They used to bring me one malwa (four kilos) of sorghum but now it is only half that amount. They are also asking if they can pay later," he went on. "It was never like this before."

Coping mechanisms

Families normally sell part of their food ration to get money for other necessities. The miller's words were a stark reminder of how a breakdown in one coping mechanism can have a domino effect on others.

Market ladies selling snacks nearby echoed his thoughts. Pointing to a pile of around 20 small, flat dough cakes on a large silver-coloured tray one woman said, "Normally, I would make twice this number."


Nutrition monitors – a growing and effective team

Understanding the mechanics of how the displaced survive in the camp is an essential part of the work being carried out by a team of ICRC nutrition monitors. The original 39-strong team – chosen from among the camp residents – has increased to 69 including 13 women since the outreach work began in 2005. Their role in the camp is to screen children for malnutrition and pass on health and hygiene messages to their mothers or guardians. "They really are our eyes and ears," comments Louise Broomhead, the ICRC delegate in charge of the outreach team. "Because they live in the camp themselves they have a direct link with the families and know everyone."

Each monitor receives a month's theoretical and practical training before starting to visit households. Two ICRC field officers who oversee their day-to-day activities also play a crucial role.

Each day the nutrition monitors make around 25 home visits to check up on underweight children enrolled in supplementary and therapeutic feeding programmes run by the ICRC through the British and Australian Red Cross Societies. They also follow up on programme defaulters and do hygiene promotion. They refer sick children to the ICRC's primary health care clinic, and generally advise mothers about good parenting and child welfare. During recent vaccination campaigns they did health education using drama and role play.

Armed with a bamboo measuring stick and a black cloth bag containing a clipboard, pen, and nutrition forms, 33-year-old Abdullah Maki strode off on his household round as soon as the day became warm. Watching him later measuring the tiny forearms of unkempt children, and pressing his thumbs carefully onto the top of their feet for the tell-tale signs of oedema was to understand the caring nature of his work. Chatting with each mother for a few moments he also explained how to minimize health risks by keeping compounds swept, food covered, and hands washed frequently.

Clean water, food and proper hygiene are vital if the displaced are to remain healthy. The camp's six boreholes provide enough water for everyone, but need maintenance. The generators that run their pumps need fuel. ICRC water engineers have been keeping them serviced since the agencies left Gereida in mid-December.

Kinship saves the day

The displaced themselves are also adapting to the new reality in the camp, using traditional values of kinship and community-based support to help each other out. The miller, for example, is grinding grain for the poorest families without charging them. And Abaker Adam, a tailor from a village near Joghana – an area which was attacked last spring, causing a huge influx of additional families into Gereida – has brought his prices down. "I have been making clothes for 25 years," he remarks. "Normally I charge around 300 Sudanese dinars (1.5 US dollars) to sew a dress, but here I only charge 100 dinars. And now, if the woman is poor, I will make what she wants for free."