A Point of No Return

I have lived with and among the Southern Sudanese and I continue to be fascinated by their yearning for an independent Southern Sudan. It is not independence by its very nature that amazes me; it is the quest for it. Independence for Southern Sudanese is the only uniting factor even with great differences in life, politics, and; in views on what shape the Southern Sudan country should take. But, I also understand that there are legitimates rifts within the populace that must never be ignored. These apertures are sometimes incorrectly reported in many works of journalism as deeply rooted in tribal differences. This region hosts the greatest ever ethnic diversity than one can name in the world. Sure, tribal division is prominent and is naturally expected, unless you are an extreme optimist, in places where tribal affiliations are social capital. To live a tribal life here is to live within the reality of Southern Sudan. But this is a reality that bothers me so much so many times. It makes me question the long term viability of the Southern union—the country of South Sudan. There is something fundamentally wrong with us—the Southern Sudanese that needs serious tackling, if we are to stay independent. A testament to these problems can be explained using the following examples. Currently, there has been ongoing disagreement within the Eastern Equatoria and Lake States. I recently read the divide between the governor and the State Legislative Assembly (SLA) of the State has deepened too big that the SLA is now suspended indefinitely. I heard of a rift among the state MPs and the governor of the Lake State—Sudantribune News September 25, 2008 reports that the honorables became unruly to the point of savagely beating each other inside the parliament. Besides, about few months back, there were reports of intertribal killings within Warrap State. Also, presence of tribal conflict can never be understood fully anywhere else then in Jonglei States. The rest of the States have their own problems which, if written about, would filled many more pages. I put all these challenges to my colleague, Levy, at the Volunteer for Economic Growth Alliance (VEGA) to know his views on the tribal problems plaguing the Southern Sudan and on the much anticipated referendum in 2011. He confidently told me “the separation is eminent”. “These rifts in the South are being fueled by the enemy” he continued. My colleague, Levy, trivialized these challenges as internal affairs, which would be solved once a complete independence is obtained. He illustrated the situation as this. What goes on in Southern Sudan is like a circumstance where a person is being chase and is running away from a lion. And on his way escaping for his deal life, he ran into a snake. When caught in such conditions, he would rather deal with snake a head of him then daring to go back to the lion that is chasing him. This characterizes southern Sudanese at the moment. They feel that the oppression by the northern Sudanese is far worst than the tribal divisions in the south. I am more and more convinced that Southern Sudan is a country in the waiting. Quest for independence, for Southern Sudanese, has reached a point of no return. Its fundamentals are so strong such that no forces of any kind will stop it from happening sometimes in 2011.

Walking with Heads Up

I did not have enough time to spend in Juba before I left for Bor-Jonglei State. In fact, I was preoccupied by the prospects of reuniting with my family that I could not do any observations during that one day I was here in Juba. Now I am back and have had one good week in Juba. I can now claim a right to write about condition of Juba and its people. Juba is a capital city of the semi-autonomous Government of the Southern Sudan. Yes, I know that there is JIT supermarket where you can find western’s food that one craves—donuts, chocolate, and what have you. I also know that there is Da Vinci restaurant where fancy diner goers go to relax on the Nile River. In fact, I accidently went there and paid something like $30 for a dinner that was too salty to be eaten. And if you are a night-goer too, there are more than a dozen places to go to here in Juba. In fact, one of them is near our guest house. Fridays and Saturdays are no sleeping days here in our compound. None of our residents is spared of the noise! It feels sometimes like the music is being played inside our compound. We actually do joke that all we need on Friday and Saturday is a drinks’ bar and we would enjoy ourselves here without having to go out. All these, good or bad, I am told, came with the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) signed in 2005. With that came a population and now you can not miss a density of a once known as a ghost town. I would never claim to understand the feelings of the people I now see here. I only see that the Southern Sudanese own and run this town. I know that the flag of Southern Sudan sits on every license plate of any car registered here and, I also see it flying allover the government’s buildings. I see also men in uniform of all departments of the military, policy, and wildlife forces. Southern Sudanese are also drivers driving cars of all agencies here in Juba. I was in a car with my driver driving through the Juba town when he began talking to me about what has become of Juba town. “You know, Panther, Juba has changed completely”. Of course, I don’t have any personal witness to what had happened to this town since the signing of the agreement. But I knew he was not just willing to teach me about the development that has taken place in Juba—he had something bigger to tell me. He wanted to tell me that what I see, though dissatisfying, was not here 3 years ago prior to the peace agreement. I gathered from his facial expression that even the men and women that gathered in that overcrowded Konyo Konyo market have just been liberated and now have the liberty to work and provide for their families. He wanted to tell me that those kids in blue, green, red, and white uniform have just had the liberty to seek education. He also wanted to tell me there is something that is now called the Government of Southern Sudan and its legislative branch and purely comprised of the Southerners who are now making decisions for their fellow Southerners for the first time since Sudan’s independence in 1956. And more importantly, Mr. David, my driver, wanted to tell me that the Southern Sudanese have finally had the freedom to take matters in their own hands and now walk with their heads up.

Milking the Poor

Scenes of communication towers sitting amidst traditional huts are never missed in Bor town area. It is such a stark contrast of things that should never go together in first place. I had an impression that things had improved tremendously when I began to receive calls in the States from Bor. I visualized the wired town with cables and what have you. I envisioned some modern buildings that go along with modern lifestyles that have sprung up in Southern Sudan in the last few years. And because people could afford to buy cell phones, I imagined a totally improved ways of living. Well, I couldn’t be more wrong! This is what I discovered happened when I arrived in Bor. It looked like the Multinational Corporations (MNCs) are moving in. Corporations had grown smarter to extent that one could describe it as greedier. They have anchored up to three tall communication towers around Bor. These towers send signals way deep to villages. Then they send phones to more kiosk-like retail shops where people can buy them. And when you buy a phone you have to buy simcard separately and twice as much. But that’s not all. You have to continue buying credits locally known as “airtime” in order for that phone to continue operating. Additionally, these phones need to be charge every so often. And this creates a boom in generator’s business. An owner of a cell phone goes to charge his/her phone on generator generated power. I suspected it must be very expensive to own a cell phone here. I believe a rational villager would realize this. But, as is well known in the field of economics “rational people don’t act rational”. When I went to the village I saw several people with cell phones hanged on thatched huts. I even made a comment that I later on thought didn’t sit well with my relatives. I wondered why development started with satellite towers sitting among the traditional huts. The other sharp contrast that I observed was the way people now consume bear and coca-cola drinks. It seems to me there is an invasive consumerism that comes with perceived status of being able to consume coca-cola or beer instead of locally brewed. People want to live a modern lifestyle so much that everyone likes drinking modern drinks: beer & coca-cola. Everywhere I went being either gatherings or just simple homes, there were crates and crates of either beer or cola drinks. To make matters worst, there seems to be great prevalence of drinking among the post-conflict population of the Southern Sudan. This comes with great human and financial costs. I just discovered that everything; food, construction materials, vehicles, drinks, and even, to some extent, skilled workers are imported from Eastern Africa. This makes things twice expensive. And talk about beer as a luxury thing? I came back to Juba and was given a work’s phone. Then I bought airtime for 20 Sudanese pounds equivalent to 10 US dollar. After that I made three short phone calls before an automated voice told me I had not “enough credit to make this [fourth] call”. This was the point where I confirmed my earlier instinct fears for this encroaching modern lifestyle in the villages not yet capable to copy with it effects. I realized I was being milked. Much worst, I now understand the calls that I watched my brother, cousin and so many others, made in Bor were extremely expensive. I now wonder whether this is ethical. Ethical or not, the reality is that the rich are milking the poor in this part of continent.

First Reunion

I never imagined how it was going to be like, but I knew for sure I would be able to see my love ones for first time in 21 years! I arrived in Bor in the afternoon of September 3rd, 2008. There was great miscommunication regarding my time of arrival. My brother with a cousin came to Bor airstrip way earlier than actual time of arrival. But, I was not there so they went to Bor town. It cost them a fortune as they hired a car that went back empty, but wanted paid anyways. I think they paid something like 20 Sudanese pounds; equals to 10 US dollar. The other relative of mine, who works for ASCHOM Oil Company and drives the company’s car, came way too late to get me at the airstrip. The other relative who came at a right time arrived on a bicycle to pick me up. But there were two bags, myself and he, the cycler. And there were no commercial cars to take me from the Bor airstrip to Bor town. Fortunately, a friend I met on the plane had his agency picked him up so he offered me a ride. We were boarding at the Juba International Airport, when this friend detected that I wasn’t the usual traveler. He saw in me the expressions of one with serious business (something fundamentally profound) awaiting him in other end of the trip. This made to inquire if I were going “home?” I enthusiastically replied, “Yes!” “Bor is my home and this is my first visit since I left in 1987. I let him calculate how long it has been for me without seeing my love ones. I believe it was the difficult nature of this reality that obligated him to feel the need to help in any way he could. We drove on incredible bumpy roads into town where he instructed his driver to drop me off at my destination. My brother and the cousin who had come to the airstrip because they thought I would arrive in the morning instead of the afternoon now linger around in town. There was great anxiety and everyone that heard about me and had a cell phone kept calling each other to ask if I had finally arrived. So, as I was getting settle at the home of that relative who came to get me, my brother called. He was told I had arrived and waiting to see him. He couldn’t wait to hang up the phone! He and our cousin came running. It was so emotional meeting the two, but not as emotional as meeting the whole family the next day. They went home to convey the news while I spent the night in town in the home of my relative. On the next day, I got myself prepared as going to where my brothers and their wives live was so remote to extent that there is no clean water. I bought things to bring with me. I hired a commercial car that runs between Bor town and other nearby places. This car brought me to the residence of my relatives. Everybody was waiting by the roadside! One of my sisters (both of them are married) heard about my coming to the area and had come and was waiting with the rest. I got out and they all rushed toward me. Everyone looked completely different: I failed to recognize so many of them! As such, I broke down in tears! I always thought I knew them through my memory, but everyone’s look has changed. My sister and one brother look so sick! But the excitement on their side was too great. They all prayed and shed their tears as I was gathering myself from emotional breakdown. While they all thanked God for having kept me a live for all these years so they one day see me again, I kept wondering how God could allow this inhumane separation to happen to me, my family, and my country of birth in the first place. Why bother to make me be born into this lovely family, but not allow me to grow among them? Why make me a homeless even at times I couldn’t bear it? Were these not the people and the place you (God) intended for me, when you put me in my mother’s womb?

Bor in My Mind

I couldn’t quite place in a right sense what Bor would look like when I get there. My flight time was nearing and the excitement rose to much higher level. My prospects of seeing home was becoming a reality. And when Joseph came to tell me I would be late for my flight, I replied “late!” Joseph is a resident coordinator here at VEGA-Sudan’s office. I was eating a very delicious lunch at times. But going home was irreplaceable. I hurriedly rushed back to my room to get my luggage (I later on discovered that I left my malaria’s medication behind in this process). My driver was waiting in the driveway. We loaded the luggage onto the car and pulled away from the gate to the bumpy road. We drove passed the airport. I began to wonder about where we were going. I was tempted to direct him, but I knew he had driven to the Juba’s airport a thousand times, if not a million times. At the same time, prospects of missing my flight were looming: I was convinced, more then ever, that I would be late for Bor’s flight. Apparently, we were going to check for my flight’s time (something Joseph already did). After confirming the flight time, we then drop back to the airport. I checked in at the desk placed next to the main door of the only modern looking building at the Juba International Airport. This turned out to be a charter plane and passengers are only allowed up to 30 lbs to bring on board. My luggage weighed twice as much. I though it works like the US airlines' policies. I offered to pay for whatever extra pounds. But the airport’s attendant yelled, “It’s not about paying. It’s about your own safety!” I didn’t know what to do after that. I contemplated between leaving behind either my bag for my wearing clothes or the gifts bag. But how would I explain to the people when I tell them I left their gifts because some airlines’ regulations prevented me from bringing them? It was not possible either to leave my clothing behind for almost two weeks. I finally gave in and offered to leave the gifts behind. But they gave in and let me go. One of these workers told me to sit in a waiting room. My flight won’t board for another 20 minutes. I got even more anxious as condition for having missed my plane loomed bigger. I got restless. I went to ask the other passengers who were sitting in the waiting area to see if they were going to Bor. The guy said “yes” and I was relieved of all the worries that were going through my mind. And in the next few minutes, we took off. The plane flew at a balance. It was not too low or too high such that we followed the Nile as it meanders northward. It looks absolutely gorgeous! I was convinced I would spot a small town along this route: the Bor Town. I began to spot what looked like cattle camps as we got closer to the Bor area. In fact, I was now flying in the air above the soil I was born on. In the next few minutes, our plane started to descend and landed on a red small strip. There was no air traffic control tower: Bor was at its very poor condition at best. The reality was shocking. But the most important thing in my mind was that I got back home in more than 20 years. No kidding! I said, “more than 20 years”.

My Identity Crisis

It was about 12 pm local time when we approached the Juba International Airport. The plane landed on a small runway surrounded with grass. We accelerated and the plane made something like a U-turn and I felt like we were to take off again. I wondered what was about to happen! But I learned, in the end, that as the plane landed, it offshoots a little bit passing the area it was supposed to pull over. So we came back to that place and pulled over. We sprang out of the plane toward the airport security’s building. Even though this was supposed to be cold season in Sudan, it felt so hot! And as I walked toward the building, an airport security official recognized that I was a Sudanese and started talking to me in Juba Arabic. I politely told him I don’t know much but I knew just to say hello. So we exchanged few words with me mixing English with Arabic. He seemed far too understanding of my situation and was so happy that I was back anyways. He guided me to the building and left me in a line. There, there were several sheets of paper to login. Apparently, people login differently. There were sheets for foreigners and that of Sudanese. So when I approached the desk and handed in my passport to the desk’s attendant, he looked at it and said to me “are you not Sudanese?” With sense of agitation, I replied “why?” The guy just wanted to know. But there is something about identity that agitates me. It appeared to me like he was questioning my patriotism and sense of belonging. Sure I am now American national. But I will always be a Sudanese-American. This is the reason when we took off at Kenyatta International Airport and the pilot announced the flight time was one hour fifteen minutes, I anxiously stared the window in the air throughout the flight. I wanted to see at which point I cross the border and now sit back and relax in Sudanese air! It has been about twenty years since I left this country. But I don’t feel a bit of resentment to this land. I have a sense of anguish to those who made it impossible for me to grow up here where I belong! Yes, I belong here! Everything about me belongs here! So write me down in the sheet that you think is right for me. I won’t be offended however if you chose to log me in as a foreigner. After all, America is the country that can claim my legal human existence. I was never a citizen of any country—not even of my own place of birth for the most parts of my lifetime. And man! I proudly hold this passport covered with stars and stripes because this is now my country—so go ahead please, write me down as a foreigner—in fact write American!