Who cares about survival? People like Maria do — fierce, determined, and full of courage.

She remembers kneeling in the hot sand, digging with her bare hands. The first scoop slipped through her fingers, but the deeper she dug, the heavier the sand became. Half a meter, one meter — her breath grew shallow, dizziness intensified. At two meters, the sand felt wet. A small puddle appeared. She cupped it in her hands, drank, then gave some to Imtias who had grown very quiet. Her cries had stopped. There was not enough water for tears. Not enough strength for wails.

Maria and her neighbors — mostly mothers carrying young children — ran together, many babies no longer crying. Some were so quiet their mothers weren’t sure if they were alive or if they were carrying their dead children on their backs. They walked until they could no longer stand, dropping everything where they rested.

The harsh realities of displacement

Each night, they collapsed on the dry ground, resting just enough to rise again. Far from the sounds of war, they listened for the sound of children still strong enough to cry.

Under the blazing sun, surrounded by flies, there was no shelter or shade. At times, explosions and gunfire broke the silence. “I only know I’m somewhere else because I can no longer hear shooting,” Maria says. “Here, we sleep on the floor. A few neighbors could bring pots and mats, but I only have the shawl I am wearing.”

For days, Maria and the others felt lost, overwhelmed by fear and exhaustion. Yet, they kept moving, walking toward a place where the sounds of explosions dwindled.

Maria pushed forward with each step, driven by a fierce need to protect her baby, whose life depended entirely on her strength and determination. Slowly, the silence grew deeper, and they crossed the border to a different country – Chad – without knowing they had left the conflict behind them.

“At night, we hear only the crying of the children that still can cry. But the sounds of war are gone. We are still alive. But we have no more strength left,” finishes Maria and turns to the group of women and children huddled together behind her.

Maria leaves to dig for water again, despite the numbness in her fingers. She still walks and stands up straight because fleeing also means the will to survive.

Caring means survival — and hope

Maria could have given in. But caring is stronger than exhaustion. It is the deep instinct to protect, endure, and survive that pushes people like her forward, even when the path is shadowed with pain and loss.

CARE, Always There

Like Maria, CARE is driven by the same fierce determination to never give up.

In Chad’s Guéréda district, CARE is there. With support from the European Union, CARE provides healthcare, trains health workers in the district, equips health centers with supplies, applies lifesaving water, sanitation, and hygiene practices, and supports survivors of violence against women and children. Together, these efforts provide a vital lifeline amid ongoing uncertainty.

The answer is clear

When someone asks, “Who cares about survival?” the answer is clear.

Maria does. She carries her baby through every hardship with fierce love and determination.

CARE does, too. We are always there — providing care, protection, and hope in the toughest times. And you do, too.

Together, we help families rewrite their stories — one brave step, one precious life at a time.

We are CARE, Always There.