When I was forced to leave my home near Khartoum, I went first to northern Sudan as a displaced person, then to Cairo as a refugee, and then to the United States of America. In this country, I breathed the true meaning of tolerance, freedom, and acceptance of others. The things the people of Sudan demanded when we gathered for peaceful protests that drove out military rulers in 2022—freedom, peace and justice—are the things I have seen in America. I do not like living abroad, but I love the American people. During the year I have spent here, I learned a lot from them and they enrich my soul.

Until last month, the American people also saved many lives in my country. Because of President Donald Trump’s decision to freeze aid provided the United States Agency for International Development (USAID), that is no longer the case.

The problem in Sudan is that generals grabbed power back from civilians, then went to war with one another. The fighting has destroyed the economy and kept farmers out of their fields. It also forced me out of my homeland. But before leaving, I helped establish the people’s response to the war—community centers, where people could find food at communal kitchens, or counseling, or first aid. Started by a youth network in Khartoum State, these “emergency response rooms” (ERRs) spread to all parts of my beloved Sudan. The ERRs have saved the lives of millions.

During two years of war, I learned a lot from my comrades in Darfur, West Kordofan, the Nile River, Al-Jazeera, Kassala, Sennar, and Al-Gedaref. The world learned, too. With more than 30 million people in need of aid to survive, Sudan is considered by many to be the world’s worst humanitarian disaster. However, international aid groups do not dare to operate inside the country. By doing the work themselves, Sudan’s people have set a unique example for humanitarian work.

Read more: Locals in Sudan Are Saving Lives That International Aid Agencies Can’t Reach

But as we say in the Sudanese proverb, “no condition is permanent.” Though Sudanese volunteers have assumed all of the risk of saving their people, we need help buying food. In January, all humanitarian aid provided by the USAID stopped on the order of the new Trump Administration. With that stoppage, hundreds of soup kitchens in Sudan were forced to close.

Now, many people in Sudan have nowhere else to get food. Famine is expanding, and people are dying every day in parts of Khartoum and in Darfur in western Sudan. Cholera has broken out in West Nile state. The volunteer coordinator for West Kordofan, which is in the south of the country, tells me that his community is in a state of famine and that hungry people come to the emergency rooms hoping for food that is no longer there. Asked to measure the health of West Kordofan, he says that the situation is at a “zero.” He recalls how his team managed to keep one dialysis machine working for a while, but it had to be shut down to conserve energy. In West Kordofan, female health services no longer exist. Across the whole of Sudan, women who have fled their homes no longer receive the hygiene packs known as “dignity kits.”

Many people are physically vulnerable. In Al-Jazeera state, there is an urgent need to resettle people who have been displaced. Civilian camps in Tawil Zamzam and Jafls Al Lamat have come under attack, but the Grassroots Coordination Council started by our network of ERRs is struggling to respond to a flood of emergencies. We have no means to evacuate 35 volunteers and over 400 families who are in immediate danger.

The ERRs were Sudanese society stepping up to care for the people their government had abandoned. They have been a spark of light which illuminated the darkness of war. Unfortunately, this spark is being extinguished. All of us volunteers and organizers are all in a very bad psychological state because we see hope in people’s eyes and their trust in us—but we do no longer have much in our hands to offer them.