Amira, a 17-year-old girl, stands in a quiet field on the outskirts of a refugee camp in eastern Sudan. A baby of no more than six months rests in her arms, swaddled in a thin blanket. Her face shows signs of exhaustion, her back rigid with the stress of everything she has endured. Although the conflict in Sudan began in April 2023, its full weight didn’t touch her until 2025, when the Rapid Support Forces seized control of el-Fasher in western Darfur. This left tens of thousands of civilians trapped in a city now reduced to rubble. Amira and her family were among those caught in the chaos.
Kidnapped, raped, and left to die
Amira was kidnapped while trying to escape the city with her family. Three armed men from the RSF captured her, blindfolded her, and took her to an isolated area south of el-Fasher. She was confined to a single room for two months, during which time one of the men raped her each day in turn. After weeks of abuse, she learned she was pregnant. The men eventually abandoned her in the wilderness, hoping she would either die or be captured again. Fortunately, other refugees nearby found her and helped her reach a medical facility. This was a hospital in a location outside RSF control, where she gave birth under the care of the International Medical Corps.
Now, Amira says, she is stuck. She cannot get her baby vaccinated or even sign him up for preschool. Without a birth certificate or a national identity number, the child has no legal status. "I can't go to work," she says, her voice steady but filled with worry. "I'm afraid of being exposed to violence again."
The growing number of children born in war
Amira's situation is not rare. The Nada Al-Azhar Foundation for Disaster Prevention and Sustainable Development has recorded similar cases in regions of Sudan affected by war. Abu Bakr Yousif Yaqoub, the foundation’s director of protection programs, explains that in conflict zones, children are often born under complicated circumstances, especially when the father is missing or not known. These conditions make it nearly impossible to register the birth.
The process for registering a child is not simple. It requires identity details, a national number, and a birth certificate. Without all of these, the mother—especially if she is still a minor—struggles to complete the procedure. Many mothers, like Amira, are themselves children, and this puts them in an impossible position when it comes to caring for a newborn in the middle of war.
Shaza Ahmed, Nada’s director general, says that many women who have been raped do not report the incident due to the stigma surrounding such crimes. "Most of the mothers of these children are themselves children," Ahmed notes. "Girls under the age of 18 face unique challenges in taking care of newborns during war."
Children who are not seen
The lack of legal documentation for children born in conflict areas has deep and lasting impacts. Without it, they cannot attend school, move freely, or obtain essential documents later in life. The lack of vaccinations for these children also places them at serious risk of diseases that could have been prevented.
Amira’s baby is just one of hundreds of thousands of children who are part of this crisis. No one knows the exact number of children who were born as a result of rape or the total number without birth records.
For now, Amira says her main goal is to protect her son. She keeps him close, holding him as if the physical connection could offer him some safety from the outside world. But with no legal identity, her ability to secure his future is severely limited. And for a mother who is only seventeen, the pressure is unbearable.