When Home Is Not a Place, But a Mother

Despite displacement and hardship, she strives to give her children warmth and a sense of belonging. @UNHCR\Malaz

When the war reached her neighbourhood in Niyala, south of Darfur, Massara’s life changed in a single night. Their home stood close to a military warehouse — a constant target. “There was fire everywhere,” she recalls. “The militia attacked us. My son Hafez was shot in the leg. Then both of my sons — Hafez and Mohamed — disappeared. They went missing, and until today I don’t know if they are alive.”

Not long after, her husband was abducted. “Men were being targeted. There was no safety anywhere,” she says. With her daughters and youngest son terrified, and the family home destroyed, she made the only decision a mother could make — to flee to protect the children she still had with her.

She arrived in Libya in October 2023, carrying nothing bu t fear and a determination to keep her daughters safe. “My biggest worry was losing them too,” she says. “Especially my daughters.”

The emotional toll of the war followed the children even after reaching safety. “They lost their father for a long time, and their brothers. They have nightmares. Loud sounds terrify them.” Nine-year-old Hamza cries when he hears fireworks. “He holds his chest and says, ‘Mum, I will die now, my heart will stop.’ I hold him and tell him, ‘I am here, no one will touch you.’”

Tripoli Libya (2025) Massara holds her son Hamza, after fleeing the conflict in Darfur. For Hamza, safety means being in his mother’s arms. @UNHCR\Malaz

To survive, she began searching for work every day — markets, shops, houses — but it meant leaving the children alone. “It broke me, but what choice did I have?” Months later, two of her oldest daughters began cleaning houses so she could remain with the youngest ones during the day. “They became caretakers too — children taking care of each other.”

After two years apart, her husband was able to rejoin the family, but his health is fragile after being tortured whilst detained in Sudan, and he cannot work. The burden remains on her shoulders. “As a mother, even when I am exhausted or sick, I don’t show it,” she says. “I cry in a dark room when they sleep, but I wake up strong again because they only have me.”

The hardest part for her is not fear — it is watching childhood slip away. “There is no education, no chance for them to learn. I promised them I would put them in school, but I know I cannot. My heart is broken because I know I will break this promise.”

Yet, she holds on to hope. “What gives me strength is my dream that one day they will be safe, have an education, and grow up in a peaceful place.  I want to watch them be who they are meant to be.”

When asked what care means after everything she has survived, her answer is simple and profound:
“Care is being your family’s protector — their life saver, their backbone.”

For the International Day of Care and Support, her message is for every mother who carries her family alone in silence:
“Our children need us. We are their strength and hope. Even when we feel weak, we must stay strong — because they draw their courage and strength from us.”

UNHCR in Libya has been operating in Libya since 1991 and has offices in Tripoli and Benghazi, and outposts in Alkufra and Ajdabiya, as well as a back-office in Tunis.  In Libya UNHCR maintains access to refugees and upholds their fundamental rights. It provides life-saving assistance to refugees and asylum seekers in detention centres, disembarkation points and in urban settings, and finds durable solutions outside Libya for the most vulnerable and at-risk refugees and asylum seekers. UNHCR collaborates very closely with the Government and authorities.  Because refugees are spread throughout the country, UNHCR provides support to host communities to be able to cope with the additional needs in their towns and villages.