Hope for Healing
In our land, where the drums speak louder than words and silence is often mistaken for strength, many women carry wounds the eyes cannot see. Favia (name changed), a mother of three from the outskirts of Aweil, was one of them.
For years, Favia endured violence behind closed doors. What began as shouting grew into slaps, kicks, and nights spent trembling in fear with her children huddled beside her. She tried to be strong — for her family, for her dignity. But behind her quiet eyes was a storm of pain, shame, and hopelessness. No one knew the full extent of what she was surviving, not even her neighbors.
It wasn’t until one night, when the beating left her nearly unconscious, that she made the hardest choice of all — to flee.
With the help of a concerned community member, Favia was brought to one of ADAFIN’s shelters. I remember when she arrived. Her face was swollen, not just from bruises but from the weight of years of suffering. She held her youngest child tightly to her chest, the others clinging to her clothes. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Her silence spoke volumes.
At the shelter, Favia was not just housed — she was embraced. The social workers welcomed her with gentleness and patience. Slowly, she began to open up during counseling sessions, her voice shaky but growing stronger each time. The scars on her body started to heal, but it was the emotional wounds — the ones no one saw — that needed the most care.
ADAFIN gave her more than just refuge. They gave her community.
In the support groups, she met other women who had walked through fire and come out the other side. They cried together, prayed together, and most importantly, they healed together. Favia no longer felt alone. She began to laugh again — softly at first, then with full joy, especially when she saw her children playing safely, free from fear.
These days, you’ll find Favia attending ADAFIN’s art therapy workshops. With a brush in hand, she pours her pain onto canvas — strokes of sorrow, but also streaks of hope. Through colors and shapes, she’s telling a new story. One where healing is possible. One where women are not victims, but survivors — warriors of the heart.
Favia is still on her journey, but she walks it with dignity now, and with ADAFIN by her side. Her children are thriving in school, and she’s begun learning skills in tailoring, preparing to rebuild her life on her own terms.
To those reading this — whether near or far — please know that your support makes this possible. Every shelter space, every counselor, every workshop is a lifeline. You’re not just donating resources — you’re restoring lives, rebuilding families, and reigniting the light in women who thought all hope was lost.
Favia’s story is not an end — it is a beginning. A beginning of healing, of courage, and of a life free from fear.
