Mahmoud Suleiman has driven the NGO's white Land Cruiser since two thousand and fourteen. The convoy leaves El Fasher at eleven on the sixth of May. Four vehicles. Fifteen crates of water, eight of therapeutic nutrition, one small wooden crate marked UNICEF in black, holding ten refrigerated vials of insulin. Mahmoud is at the wheel of the first vehicle.

Before leaving Mahmoud checks the oil, the radiator water, the tyre pressure. He cleans the windscreen. He keeps the laissez-passer in a clear plastic sleeve in the inside pocket of his shirt. The Land Cruiser key has a yellow plastic keyring with a black print that reads SCUOLA GUIDA UM BARU — DAL 2018. Mahmoud had had the keyrings made for all his students. Three were left over. One is in his pocket.

Between El Fasher and Um Baru there are seven checkpoints. Mahmoud has been counting them for eleven years. Mellit. Tina. Mistarayy. Saraf Omra. Wadi Howar. Bir Maqsud. Karnoi. At Karnoi you turn right and enter Um Baru by the white track.

At Mellit Mahmoud lowers the window. Shows the laissez-passer. The RSF soldier, around thirty, waves him through. At Tina, the same. At Mistarayy the soldier is a young woman, thin. Her hands are shaking. She opens the water crate, takes out a bottle, puts it back. Waves him through. At Saraf Omra the laissez-passer is checked twice. At Wadi Howar there is a dog tied to a rope. At Bir Maqsud the soldier is asleep on his feet, leaning on his rifle. Mahmoud waits for him to wake, shows the paper. The soldier blinks, waves him through. Four hours have passed.

Karnoi, fourteen eighteen.

Mahmoud stops. Lowers the window.

The soldier at the seventh checkpoint is eighteen years old. He has a uniform with a belt too wide for him, black unbranded trainers, a Kalashnikov held low, and on his right ear a small cut on the cartilage.

Mahmoud looks at him.

Mahmoud recognises him.

He is the younger brother of Tariq Hammad. Tariq was sixteen in two thousand and eighteen, he had come to Mahmoud's driving school for five weeks. He always showed up with his little brother, ten years old, very thin, right ear with a small cut on the cartilage — he had fallen off a bicycle his father had built him from a metal frame found in Um Baru. The brother's name was Yousef.

Yousef is eighteen now.

Yousef holds the Kalashnikov low. He looks at Mahmoud. He looks at him whole. Mahmoud does not know what Yousef is looking at — the face of the driving instructor, the face of the driver, the face of a man from Um Baru, the face of a man alone. Mahmoud does not say his name. Mahmoud does not ask about Tariq. Mahmoud does not ask about the father, the mother, the house in Um Baru beneath the tamarind hill. Mahmoud asks nothing.

Yousef drops his gaze. Takes the laissez-passer. Looks at it. His hands hold the paper by the corners. His nails are short and dirty. Yousef hands the paper back. He says one word.

He says: "Pass."

Mahmoud nods. Raises the window. Shifts into first.

The convoy passes.

Mahmoud drives the white track. Eighteen kilometres of white track. The houses of Um Baru appear first — tin roofs, reed fences, the aerial of Fatima's primary school visible from a distance. He reaches the hospital at sixteen four. He unloads the crates. The nurse — her name is Hamida, she is forty-eight, two children — signs the form. She takes the UNICEF crate. Carries it inside. Counts ten vials.

Mahmoud goes back to the Land Cruiser. The sun is still high. He sits at the wheel. Holds the key in his hand. The keyring reads SCUOLA GUIDA UM BARU — DAL 2018. Mahmoud does not look at the keyring. Mahmoud puts the key in his pocket.

He gets out of the Land Cruiser. Walks toward home.

Fatima is at the door. She asks how the journey went. Mahmoud says it went well. Mahmoud says he delivered. Mahmoud says he leaves again tomorrow morning for El Fasher. Fatima hands him a cup of water. Mahmoud drinks.

Fatima asks about the checkpoints.

Mahmoud says: all routine.

Mahmoud does not say Yousef's name. Not to Fatima. Not to Hamida at the hospital, who is also from Um Baru and knew Tariq as a child. Mahmoud does not say it to anyone.

Mahmoud eats dinner. The moon rises early in May over Um Baru. Mahmoud sits on the metal chair in front of the door. Fatima is inside putting the children to bed. Mahmoud keeps the Land Cruiser key in his pocket.

He thinks of Yousef. Tariq Hammad is twenty-four today. Tariq Hammad's little brother let the UNICEF convoy through at Karnoi.

He does not know whether tomorrow Yousef will still be at Karnoi, or whether next week Tariq Hammad's brother will still be an RSF soldier, or a Sudanese army soldier, or dead.

Tomorrow morning at eleven Mahmoud leaves El Fasher again. Seven checkpoints. Mellit. Tina. Mistarayy. Saraf Omra. Wadi Howar. Bir Maqsud. Karnoi.

At Karnoi someone will check the laissez-passer. Mahmoud will pretend not to recognise.