In 2024, the number of displaced people around the world reached 83.4 million, the highest number ever. Due to conflict, violence or natural disasters, men, women, children, entire families and generations have been forced to flee their homes in their country.
“Internal displacement rarely makes headlines, but for those who are alive, suffering can last for years.”
Here, three people tell us that it means being forced from their homes.
Bergham, Bangladesh
Bangladesh is one of the easiest countries in the world to have climate easiest. Number of internally displaced persons due to natural disasters according to IDMC report. Baby Begum is 40 years old and has two disabled sons. She was initially replaced by the catastrophic floods of 2022.
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Every year, before the monsoon season begins, I get this feeling of anxiety in my stomach pit. First of all, it was the first rainfall, and it fell steadily. I grew up in Sunamganj, northeast of Bangladesh, where the monsoon season is in Bangladesh from June to October every year, and it is another third of the season, where it rains.
I know water is crucial to survival, but it also has the ability to ruin everything on its path. I learned this firsthand.
In June 2022, catastrophic mountain floods (Bangladesh’s worst mountain flood) flooded most of my homeland, killing people, killing people, washing my villages, leaving thousands of people displaced.
My family is among them, and in just a few days, we lost everything. Our home, our crops and cattle, and our lives.
I was at work when the flood started to rise, and by the time I got home, my village was empty. The rescue ship that arrived at the rescue ship to transport people to the emergency shelter has left and my family is trapped. My husband Shafiq has been watching our sons Yunus and Bablu, both with disabilities and autism. They are scared.
Our house only took a few hours under the water. As the water continued to rise, we climbed up the roof and cried desperately.
I'm sure we'll all drown. Even though I could swim, my boy couldn't, so we decided that if we had to die, we would die together.
Fortunately, a fisherman with the boat rescued us at the last minute. We were taken to emergency shelter, but from there, things only got worse.
We think it will be temporary, but we are with hundreds of other families, all of which are crowded in a crowded, unsanitary space. We had to line up for hours to use the bathroom and my boy ended up wetting himself. It's a nightmare.
As our house was destroyed, we were forced to leave. We went from shelter to shelter and then in 2023 we moved into the crumbling cabin in the crowded slums in nearby Sylhet, hoping we could find a job.
I worked as a maid and Shafiger became a rickshaw driver. But a few months later, he fell off his bike, seriously hurting his back and preventing him from working.
I became the only family to support my family and made only Tk5,000 [£30] One month.
In my village, we know everyone, there will always be people we can rely on… We have lost all of this
The past few years have been really difficult. After throwing everything to the flood, we had to start over from scratch.
We used to have enough rescue to send our son to a special school, but now the dream is impossible. We only have enough time to get through the difficulties, even every day’s struggle.
In 2024, the flood returns. Our house is made of rusty tin sheets and partially destroyed, and I can't afford to repair the roof, so it can get wet and muddy even during slight rainfall.
The air is unbearable. We all felt suffocated. My kids get sick a lot and I can’t afford the medication. I often feel like I have failed. I told them that this is only temporary, but in reality, I don't think things will get better for us. Not only did we lose our home, but we also had close contact with our family and neighbors.
The flood eliminates all our hopes and dreams. In my village we know everyone, and there are always people we can rely on to seek help. My sons feel safe. They have friends.
But now we have lost all of this – it feels like we will never take it back.
As told Thaslima Begum
Mubarak Ibrahim, Sudan
In 2024, Sudan’s battle between the Sudan Armed Forces and the Rapid Support Force (RSF) has caused the world’s worst humanitarian crisis, with Sudan having 11.6 million internally displaced people in a country, the most recorded person ever. Mubarak Ibrahim is 50 years old and has five children. He and his family were forced to flee his village, ZaghawaAfrican race group Repeated targeting by RSF.
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“We have no choice.
I have five children: two girls from three to 13 years old and three boys. I need to drive them out.
At night, when the village was attacked, we managed to escape and head west. This is difficult and very dangerous. One of my daughters, who is 11 years old, was hit by a wandering bullet.
We left everything behind Saloma, where I lived for decades. Although now formally displaced, the truth is that I spent my whole life in a camp for displaced people: Soloma is close to the original site of Zamzam Camp, built in 2004 to accommodate a large number of people displaced by the Darfur war.
Over time, its number has increased by an estimated 700,000, making it the largest displacement camp in Sudan. As it grew, Zamzam swallowed my village, which was actually its heart.
After escaping from Soma, we walked about 30 kilometers [18 miles] Go to the town of Tavira. Even there, we don’t feel safe, especially children and women, because they fear that militias will attack them.
However, it is better than before, even though we have nothing. People sleep in trees in valleys or outdoors. Some people entered Jebel Marra Hills.
Without food, we have very little water. We had no water, we entered the summer. The temperature is already very high.
Although now officially displaced, the truth is that I spent my whole life in a camp for displaced people
Some people who fled the RSF attack on Zamzam died of desire on their way to Tawila. Mainly an old woman, who died after running out of water during a journey up to 50 kilometers.
There is no medicine, either. My daughter was very difficult to try to help her after being shot. Only traditional medicines are available. We had to use local materials to treat her.
No external organization can reach us – no access. The situation is already very critical.
In addition, my mother is 75 years old and is very ill. I was afraid she would die because she had high blood pressure and other diseases.
More people arrive every day from Zamzam or El Fasher, which is very unsafe. People still continue to use longer routes to Tavira from different directions. Every day, the number of displaced people in Darfur continues to grow.
Telled to mark Thomson
Rosmira Campos, Colombia
Colombia There is one of the world's worst internal displacement crises, with nearly 7 million driven by decades of conflict and violence. By mid-2024, nearly 7 million people Arrived Internal displacement in the country, the government recognizes that they are eligible Aid and compensation. Continuing conflict between non-state armed groups Pretending In the first half of 2024 alone, there were about 183,400 people. Rosmira 30 years old Widow and There are four children. The conflict between the army and armed paramilitary groups drove them out of the village.
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“I am the leader and spokesperson of the indigenous peoples of Emberá-Katío in the Chocó region, and I come from there. I have lived in Bogota for several years because my home has become a war zone and we cannot return until the government guarantees our safety.
ELN [National Liberation Army, Colombia’s largest paramilitary group]armed men with machine guns clashed with the army there, and we were caught in a fire exchange. This is a “red area”.
Sometimes armed groups – these people in green uniforms wearing guns threaten or clash with us on territory. They try to recruit our children and embezzle our land for mining, so we have to protect ourselves with the Indigenous Guards. We just want to live peacefully.
When I was 15, they took me to rape me once. I'm collecting food. Too scary. Now we live in 150 families in a tent set up by Parque Nacional, one of Bogota’s most popular parks. I don't want to be here. I don't like it. Cold and wet, we are always sick. But we can't go home because it's too dangerous.
It's really difficult. I have four kids between two and 11 years old. My husband died two years ago during the pandemic.
I make handmade products like bracelets, necklaces and clothes and sell them on the street. But it's not that people want to buy them every day. So sometimes we have to be hungry. We have no other jobs.
My area is incredibly green and mountainous, with waterfalls and clear pristine rivers flowing through it. There is no road. I still have cousins, aunties and uncles living there. My parents are dead.
At home, we used to rely on plantains, cassava and corn grown on the land. There are many animals, such as birds and monkeys, but have been absent since the beginning of the conflict.
Since 2015, the Army has been devouring the area with chemicals to prevent armed personnel from growing Coca-Cola and appears to have destroyed the entire natural environment. Now, we cannot grow crops. The land yield is very small.
Locals don't want us here, sometimes they can be aggressive. This makes me sad
I have lived in five different places in Bogota since 2019. I've been taking Spanish classes with teachers in college, so I can learn a little bit now.
We lived mainly in the campgrounds established in the park, but the conditions were poor, so we had to keep moving forward. About 400 of us returned to the park again on Monday to protest and urge the government to take action. They never fulfilled their promises.
Some of us want the government to help us get home while others seek support to move to another place.
Locals don't want us here, sometimes they can be aggressive. This makes me sad; they should pay tribute to us. We don't want to be here either – but we have no choice.
As Luke Taylor said
