A Country in Crisis

You must have heard the SPLM has recalled its ministers from GONU. You must have wondered what that really means and you might have hoped that the Sudan does not go back to war…..

Here in Juba, the news has been received with great support and appreciation. The town and the people are calm… life goes on normally.

But the media and some people are jumping to conclusions saying war in imminent. Maybe war will eventually break out, but not now. The general feeling up til now is that the SPLM has to stop the NCP from embrassing it time and time again.

All in all, just wanted to reassure you people that we are all fine down here in Juba.

Becoming Sick In Juba…

I heard Dr. Konyokonyo is not in town and I don’t know where else to go…

For the past four days, I’ve been sick! I can’t remember what I ate or where I ate it, but my stomach has been making noices,  it aches and I have been visiting the restroom more often than I usually do. (Do you guys want details?)

Here in Juba, they say it’s a nice welcome, the Juba way. Everyone who’s new in Juba gets ‘welcomely’ hit by diarrhea and malaria sooner or later. That’s if Juba likes you… if not or if you are just unlucky, something else might hit you..

But I’m getting better, thanks to some pills called DiaFix. I’m already preparing for malaria…

Stay turned.

Life and Death in Juba

There are things about Juba or South Sudan in general that I have never ever seriously thought about until I came to Juba. In many ways, I’m beginning to understand myself and know why I view things the way I do

 For ages, I never knew the reason why I always thought I’d die young. In Juba, people talk about tragedy and death may be more often than Europeans talk about the weather. It’s all around. I can say I’ve been to more funerals than weddings…

 The other day as I was waking up, I heard an announcement over one of the many FM stations reporting 14 new unidentified bodies in the morgue. One crushed his motorbike onto a tree, another two were hit by a car. Don’t remember how many others perished when a car overturned on the Juba-Bor road and so on…

Death, dying and how it happened is the talk in almost everywhere you go.

Just after 2 days in Juba, something happened that stunned me. I was seated with some friends at home under the night sky. Other than the mosquitoes that keep me hitting myself, it was a nice night. The sky was clear and it was not too warm. As we sat there talking about everything and nothing in particular, we heard a loud bang … then an loud screams of what sounded like pain, confusion or freight. Being new in Juba, I did not know what to think of it, but my curiosity was already in first gear. Like he read my mind, my brother started to wonder loudly whether a car had overturned and fallen into the river. I was later told that on this road, Tombura road, and the Tombura bridge strange accidents have been happening….

My brother got hold of his torch as there are not road lights in Juba, and asked if I wanted to come with him to see what was up.. 

Me? Of course…why not I thought. We walked like for 2 minutes and spotted that a crowd had already gathered on the Kator side of the Tombura Bridge. As we got closer, my brother’s pace lowered and mine increased.  I was curious and eager to see what the fuss was all about.

My brother, who has lived and managed to stay alive in Juba told me not to get too deep into the crowd. I wanted to see first-hand whatever it was that had happened, but he was like “ya jek, mata ruwa inak!” (don’t go there..) 

So what was the point of being there if you can see what everyone is seeing, right? There was no way I was going to let this one pass me…. I don’t know if it was a good idea, but all the same, I got there… then I saw it… and later pieced together what had happened. 

It was an accident. On the side of the road I saw a motorbike that looked like it had been run over 3 times by a monster-truck. I can not understand how it was hit. Both its wheels were totally twisted. Next to it, lay the lifeless body of a young man, probably in this early/mid 20’s. His head was totally deformed, you could still recognise a face but that head was smashed… I am not a doctor, but it looked like his back was also broken. Although his eyes where still wide open, it looked like he died instantly when he was hit by whatever hit him.
Then I heard someone say there was another fatality. I navigated through the crowd looking for the other body. Women were crying, screaming and yelling everywhere. There was a state of total confusion. Still eager to see the second body, I was unable to put together the pieces of information and data that was coming from those who probably saw the whole thing happen or arrived there before I did.

Anyway, I got there and saw the second corpse. The crowd had formed a circle around him. He looked younger than the first but his body was not as crushed as the first one. He clearly looked dead, but some people would still kneel down to feel his pulse and without any emotion announce “aaah, de intaaha!” (this one is finished!)

I stood there for what seemed like an eternity. Maybe the shock had my feet frozen, I don’t know. Somehow, my brother found me in the crowd and not so much told me but ordered that we leave the place immediately. There was no sign of the law or order around, so anything could happened. I dragged me feet out of the crowd, got to the road and was ready to leave. Someone had just arrived and was asking what had happened. We stopped to listen.

The two victims were on the bike. They were coming from the direction of the University of Juba heading to Kator and got hit by an SPLA truck that was traveling in the opposite way. The truck did not stop as is customary in Juba… it drove on and it was probably then that it ran over one of the boys and their bike. Gauging from the general mood of the crowd, the truck could have been burned and the driver, SPLA or not (if alone) could have been beaten up. People here can only tolerate so much…

Again, my brother reminded me that we had to leave… and in confusion, I obeyed. I don’t remember saying anything on the way back, but some part of me wanted to know how this was going to end. Where are the police, it’s been over 20 minutes… who are those kids? Are they brothers? Why did the driver of the truck run away? Will he be caught? Why was the truck driving so fast? Why has something been done about this road? OMG…

At home, I was restless and the need to go back there was getting even stronger. I knew I could not take my camera with me to make pics except if I wanted to be the third corpse. So, when I heard sirens some 40 minutes after the accident had occurred, I thought even my brother would not hold me back if I told him I wanted to see what the police were going to do.

When I got there, the police had already loaded both corpses into a car. I heard that when they lifted the first one, his brains spilled over. One onlooker knew the boys and he alerted the family who lived not too far away.

They were brothers from the same mother!

The mother got there just before the police did and had to see both her sons in that state. Sad, a very sad day indeed for mother…..

The crowd slowly dissolved into the night.. for most of them, it was just another day in Juba. For the mother and me, this day we shall never forget..

In Juba..

I am finally home in Juba! Now just days in this place I call home, the excitement has worn out and I have to adjust to survive in this crazy place.

I’ll be keeping you updated. Here are some pics..(the connection is slow, so here’s one just for now). It’s a riverside bar/restuarant called DaVinci close to the Juba Bridge)

Juba, Here I Come…

So, the moment is finally here! In the coming few days I’ll be back in Juba, South Sudan.

Visa
Yes, even a returnee like myself needs a visa to (re)enter Sudan. You see, the thing is when we refugees fleed to the West, most of us tore our passports on the plane or at the airport just before seeking asylum. I thought it was a dumb thing to do (tear the passport), and I swear I gave mine to the authorities to kinda prove my identity. Years later, it expired and since we asked for protection from the Sudanese government, the authorities had to provide us with some kind of travel document.

So, here I am years later going back to my country with a foreign travel document. To enter Sudan legally, I have to get a visa or risk deportation.  And if I enter, I will have to register within two weeks or so, just like any other foreigner. Sudan has rules too you know…

Flight Route..
Because I am going to Juba, I thought I had to pass via Khartoum; stay a day or two; make some pics and get some stories to blog about. But I was wrong, I got a ticket straight to Juba with a brief connection at an East Africa city!

Great, right? I’ll leave Europe like today and be in Juba tomorrow bypassing the Sharia Capital of the World- Khartoum!

Pocket Money and Gifts…
Juba is expensive, is expensive, is expensive! And this returnee is so broke he can’t even pay attention to this warning. But God is always our side…

As for gifts, I have not gotten any. Even if I wanted to take some gifts, I would not know where to start. A ‘friend’ of mine said: just tell them the bag with gifts got lost… What I’ll do is give each of them a big warm hug and smile at them like I’m selling a tooth-whitening product.

Juba, Friends and Nite-life
The first I’ll do is blend in, which would not be a problem considering how simple I am. The last time I was in Sudan, people did not believe I came from Europe because I did not look or dress like I come from outside. I loved it everytime I heard it.

(to be continued..)

International Day of the Disappeared

To “disappear” is to vanish, to cease to be, to be lost. But the “disappeared” have not simply vanished. Someone, somewhere, knows what has happened to them. Someone is responsible. (source)

Today, August 30th marks the International Day of the Disappeared. A day to honor and remember those who have disappeared, ceased to be, lost.

I am bringing this to your attention because of a an incident that has left a permanent scar in my heart.  In 1992, SPLA forces almost liberated Juba. When they withdraw, the Jalaba forces of the National Islamic Front responded by extrajudicially executing civilians, captured and wounded SPLA forces etc. In the weeks that followed they rounded up over 260 young officials and to this day, their whereabout is anyones guess.

They just disappeared!

RIP comrades…

Juba Arabic: A Distinct Dialect

If you ever thought that Arabic Juba, the lingua franca spoken in Equatoria Region, South Sudan is just Arabic spoken badly, then you just got another fact about Sudan very wrong!

According to a certain Ashari Ahmed Mahmud (PhD) Juba Arabic or Arabe Juba is a distinct dialect. I happen to agree with this doc.

Although not much is published in Juba Arabic, it still continues to be spoken among communities from south Sudan living in Khartoum, as well as communities in Diaspora. A dictionary has been published and with NGO’s rushing to the south, the book is becoming popular.

In Australia, you can call and get assistance in Juba Arabic. And here you could read some idioms and a story here.

The Mind of the Oppressor….

“The Victim Is Never Fully Human In The Mind Of The Oppressor.”

Maybe a better title could have been “Do you think like an oppressor?”, or “Are you an oppressor and you don’t know it?”. Or oppressed if you like…

I’ve had several discussions about our beloved Sudan (its past, its future and its women) with Sudanese from almost all walks of life. It does not surprise anymore when self-proclaimed secular Sudanese make remarks without having the slightest clue that they sound and reason just like an oppressor. Maybe in more occasions than one, I have acted, thought and behaved like a person who is being oppressed or is oppressing although I’d want to believe that I have liberated myself from the control and conditioning of the oppressor. But how can one tell?!

The other needs you to survive…

One typical belief of an oppressor is that, once free, the oppressed can not survive without him (The ladies have to excuse me from here onwards for referring to the oppressor/oppressed as male). The oppressed, in the mind of the oppressor, is not learned enough and not capable to be the captian of their own destiny. Thus, it is his duty as the oppressor to care for the oppressed. According to the oppressor, the oppressed does not know the difficulties that awaits him, so he the oppressor will not let him free, even if he the oppressor has to use force to prevent the freedom of the oppressed! In other words, the oppressor believes he is the sole custodian of the fate of the oppressed.

If you don’t know this already, Khartoum has been trying to sell this idea to every mind willing to receive their lies that the South (or even Darfur if it chooses to separate) can not run their own affairs if it decides to break free. Unbeknown to most Sudanese, the ideas of the oppressor are like viruses that take over your brain if you are over-exposed to them, and will continue to spread to other brains. That is why you still hear the same arguments coming off Sudanese who are partially possessed by the alienator?

Which brings us to the next point: in order to liberate the oppressed, you must also liberate his oppressor.

Most oppressors use and only understand one language: aggression. To liberate their selves from the yolks of their oppressor, the oppressed usually resort to the use of force, a fight for freedom or a war of liberation. But victory is never complete when only the oppressor is chased away, killed or overthrown. The task and role of the oppressed is to liberate not only themselves, but also liberate the oppressor from their mentality of being a superior race, class, religion or culture.

Are you still with me? Good.  Let me repeat that:  the oppressor needs to be liberated from their mentality of being a superior race, class, religion or culture.

Coming from being a victim to a savior of a the criminals that did you wrong, this added role of a liberator to liberate his ex-oppressor is definitely not an easy task. Most liberators would prefer to put the ex-oppressor on the receiving end by avenging the evils done to them, thus becoming the oppressor over the ex-oppressor. The true and real freedom fighter fights for the rights of all, the oppressor included.

So, where do you stand so far?

Are you possessed by the oppressor demon? Wanna test if you are oppressed?

Steve Biko once wrote “Merely by describing yourself as black you have started on a road towards emancipation, you have committed yourself to fight against all forces that seek to use your blackness as a stamp that marks you out as a subservient being.“

Reminds me of Kizzie’s post about inferiority complex and acceptioning being who you are. Let me leave it here for now. Let’s continue in the comments.

The Exodus Continues…

In the displaced camps around Khartoum, it is quite uncommon to see the displaced gather together in celebration of any kind. For most, life in the camps has always been a struggle of survival. Security forces or rather Islamic police constantly terrorize the camps in raids to search for alcohol, to demolish shelters or just to make a point that they can…

But these last few weeks, hope has come to some in the form of repatriation. Here and there, you could spot smiles on some of the faces, and sometimes even see their lovely teeth. In Jobora camp, drums beating in celebration could be heard deep into the night as the displaced prepare for their long awaited trip back home…

   

Life in the displaced camps in the north has always been miserable to say the least. With a fascist government in power fighting a war it redefined as Jihad, and executing policies of Arabization and Islamization of the whole country,  the capital city of Khartoum was not particularly hospitable to non moslim Sudanese especially those from southern Sudan. The living conditions out there in the bare desert were harsh. In the recent past, cases have been reported of government or Islamic organizations that gave humanitarian assistance to people only after they had converted to Islam.

With the conditions at home almost sub human and unbearable, some children have fled their homes to live in the streets of Khartoum only to be rounded up by security forces and sent to Quranic schools – a form of enforced conversion and radicalizition. Sad but true, the only education (if you can call it that) that the children get is an extreme form of Islam where children are forced day and night to memorize the Quran. When they are finally released to the society, these kids know nothing but the extreme fascist idealogy that has been bumped into their minds by criminals who call themselves moslims. Ironic but true, these losers send their children to good international schools some of which are run by the Catholic Church!

In the camps, mothers are in no better position. With their husband probably killed in the war or still somewhere in the frontlines, these mothers resorted to brewing and selling alcohol, an act illegal under Islamic law, to generate some form of income to feed their kids and send them to some schools. Thousands, along with their children, have been arrested and locked up in prison for years in conditions I can only leave to your imagination.

Two long years after the CPA promised to soften the impact of Sharia – Islamic law- on non Moslims, over 1000 women and children were released this week from Kobar prison after being locked up for years for selling alcohol.

A lot of these returnees probably don’t have a lot to return back to, or could not be taking much with them. But most have had enough of the rough and hostile environment that Khartoum is. One woman is happy to return because she will finally be able to live in dignity, toil the earth and send her kids to school.

However, the return of these citizens from camps in the north comes with its challenges for the families, for the society and for GOSS (government of South Sudan). One mother laments the ‘loss’ of her two elder sons to the system. At the age of 9 and 11, the children were abducted by the security forces and locked up for years in the Quranic schools. When they returned years later, the boys appeared to have had ‘brain transplants’, said the poor mother referring to the level the boys were brain-washed.

Some returnees who survived the hard life in the camps have also taken up the other forms of extremism. With oppression of religion being the norm, Christianity actually flourished more in the years of Jihad than it did in the previous regimes. Other southerners have gotten extremer in their views against the government policies and it was actually in that period that the call for separation became more popular among southerners.

Now, Sudan will of course continue to exist but variables of the equation that will determine the Sudan of the future have changed. A generation will soon be in positions of power, but it has known nothing but war, hatred and a twisted ideology that sets religious and ethnic groups against each other. The path to making Sudan the greatest county in Africa will not be smooth, nor will it be easy to create a country that based on equality of all the people irrespective of their origin, race or religion. It will not be easy to reintegrate many back to the society – what ever society means, nor will it be easy re-establish the trust among groups – religious or otherwise….

The politicians will continue to form partnerships here and there, and not turn back to heal the masses they have poisoned with their lies to satisfy their greed.

Maybe, just maybe, when all return to where they were before the war, can they re-assess  the real  material, psychological, emotional and social and political impact of the war had on them and the rest of us. Maybe, just maybe we will leave our children with the right tools so that they don’t live in misery like some of us did.

Let the exodus continue….

“Dude, Juba Can Mess You Up Big Time!”

Still pretty excited about going back home, I fired up my yahoo messenger to talk to friends, returnees like myself, who are now based in Juba. After a inquiring of the zillionth time how Juba was, wanting to hear “ooh it’s soo exciting, u should just come..“, I did not know what to think when this lady popped my almost perfect homecoming bubble when she said:

“Dude, Juba can mess u up big time!”

Okay, I took a breathe and tried to relax… I really tried… but all the while I keep thinking that right now, she was the only person messing up with my homecoming make believe dream that Juba will be just fine…  

A couple of days later, her caution started to make more sense. Juba will of course not have most of the things I gotten myself accustomed to in the west like efficient public services etc. With the neighbourhood cock becoming my wakeup call and morning alarm, I will have to get used to taking a cold morning bath the old African way. I’ll have to relearn to use a pit-latrine and forget those valuable moments I spent in the toilet doing my business while reading a magazine or a book. I will also have to get used to the IBM (isha’alla, bukra, malish) syndrome in Juba where everything is done by the grace of God (insha’alla), tomorrow (bukra) and if not, sorry (malish) and the cycle begins all over again. I will also have to learn to work at a phase that’s only known to Juba, take 3 hours lunch breaks and maybe booze during working hours.

But these exercises seem more like adaptations than drastic changes that could mess up ones life… so, what did my friend mean exactly?

They say the lifestyle in Juba could catch you with your pants down if your eyes are not wide open. Apart from being expensive, a fact mostly emphasized by new comers and visitors, Juba can be soo depressing and uplifting at the same time. You can hate it to the extent that you love it soo much… does that make since?

Okay, let’s establish a fact before proceding any further: Juba can indeed mess you up! Yes it can…

But will it? A returnee like myself with no euros in the pocket but only pure love of the county, will Juba dare to mess me up?

“Yes dude, Juba WILL mess you up, biiig time!” says the not so optimistic and not so enthusiastic voice in me.

“When you get to Juba, you will jobless, penniless and clueless.” the Voice continues. “You will be hit by malaria and Dr. Konyokonyo will not be able to help you… you will get ‘friends’ who booze every working day and you won’t be able to resist the charms of banat ta Juba (the girls of Juba)… you, my friend, will be messed up big time!”