On The Move In Pursuit Of Peace
A South Sudanese man recounts a life of continued displacement
By Reverend Jack* as told to Nassim Majidi and Joseph Malish
“I have returned to South Sudan three times. I like South Sudan — every time I see peace coming, I come back; every time I see war breaking out, I go back to a foreign country.”
I
n 1983, when the war broke out in Sudan between the Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA) and Sudan People’s Liberation Movement (SPLM), I was only three years old. Eight years later, another war broke out. I ran out to the bush, then to the riverside, separated from my father. I did not see him. I lost my father on that day. I had already lost my mother to sickness in 1988. I was too young. So my life is the life of an orphan — it’s not good, no matter where I am.
My relatives were taking care of me; they moved from Sudan — some went to Kenya, some to Ethiopia, some to Uganda. Those who went to Kenya and Ethiopia managed to make it to the US through resettlement programmes from 2001 to 2003. These were all people displaced by war. So was I…with the part of my family, my uncle, who moved to Uganda.
With time, my priorities changed from that of my family. I came back to South Sudan to marry. I met my wife in 2000. But we soon had to leave again for Uganda, where my son was born two years later. When he turned three years old, I was informed that peace was returning to South Sudan as the head of the government fell from power.
People in all areas were being told that a peace agreement had been signed. I could feel the pressing need to return. I, too, heard it from the media. So I decided to return with my family. We were amongst the many who chose to come back.
Life was different in South Sudan. I was able to study and was pursuing a diploma in theology at the Rank Theological College on a scholarship, and my family stayed with me for those 2.5 years. At that time, I had three children. However, my second-born passed away because of an unknown sickness. As returnees, there was no support from the UN or other organisations that had supported us in refugee camps in Uganda by providing food, water, and shelter. It was a dangerous and troubled life in South Sudan with limited access to healthcare and treatment. This is why my boy passed away.
“We feared war”
In 2013, while an independent South Sudan was formed, the war continued to ravage our country. It forced many people back to Kenya, Uganda, and Ethiopia. We feared war. I feared the gun shooting people; I had seen it with my own eyes. Soon, my family and I left together — myself, my wife and our four children, and my relatives. We went back to Nyumanzee camp in Uganda, only to return to my home country in 2016.
What made me decide to return? I thought peace was coming again.
This time, in 2016, I decided to go back to where I was born — to the house I had built in 2011 with wood and grass that I cut on my own. I did not have to pay anything. I was happy there, and we were all happy there. It was our house.
The happiness was short-lived. The war broke out in July 2016, and I decided to go back to Uganda. We stayed there until early 2020, and then the Coronavirus pandemic came and restricted our lives. In Uganda, as a result of COVID, our food rations were reduced to once every two months, instead of a month, there was no free movement, and schools were closed for our children. We just stayed inside the house within the camp. It’s actually tough when you are told you can’t move. It is too difficult if you are just idle inside the house from morning to night. Staying in one place is too difficult. Moreover, my children were missing out on education. But in South Sudan, the schools were open, so we decided to come back.
To plan my return, I spoke to people there to make sure the situation was ok — my relatives and some friends told me it was fine to return. I didn’t come to check myself, and I relied on what they told me. Then I returned to my village, my house. I hoped to stay there, but then the water pushed us out in the flooding of 2020 and destroyed the home.
“My family and I became internally displaced persons in our own country”
Up until now, we had never split up as a family. We had always travelled together. But the flooding forced us to move — we became internally displaced persons. We found ourselves in a new camp, the IDP camp of Mangalla. After three months, life was too terrible. There was no shelter, no water, no medicines or treatment. There was no food and my kids were not going to school. Only some organisations provided minimal health services. I had to leave my wife and children there to come to Juba
I have contacts, relatives, and friends, who live in Juba. They told me to come here and work first to help my family. But for 7–8 months, I did not work. I would not call it work; I would call it hustling — trying my best to do something.
It is actually very difficult to find a job in South Sudan. I would even be ready for casual work; if there is official work, I will do it.
My son is 20, he finished secondary school, he is also hustling, no work. Like me, he works with a money transfer company — the same job as I am doing sending airtime money to phone users. He gets 30,000 SSP a month, and me the same…that’s like $230. No one else in my household works — not my wife, not my children.
My son wants to be a doctor or an engineer. I would like him to leave this country and study somewhere else. We don’t like living here; we would like to leave the country if we go somewhere. But we don’t want to go back to the IDP camp or the refugee camp, but that is the only option in our situation.
Here in South Sudan, we also don’t get loans — we always try, but no one is here to lend us money. Some of my relatives are in a better situation, but they pay me for what I do and do not give me loans. My relatives were helpful, but my biggest support system was my uncle — my mom’s brother. Unfortunately, he passed away in December 2021. The best advice he gave me was: Live your life but live a life that can help your family and plan what you can have.
Most of my children are in school. I know education is vital for them. One of them is supposed to start soon, but there is no money to go to school. Actually, I, too, plan to finish my studies — if I find a scholarship — as I realise that a diploma in theology may not be enough for me. I want to upgrade it to a formal degree.
“I try to live a life that can help my family, but I don’t know what tomorrow will be like”
Life here in South Sudan is so terrible. There is always war. Right now, it is stable, but we don’t know what tomorrow will be like. I say “I don’t know” because peace implementation isn’t happening yet…So many of my friends have left because of the situation they have seen with their own eyes. Now they struggle there, too; you know how hard it is in this country to get access to documentation.
The government isn’t part of that group that could help. No government wants to hurt its people or push anyone, but this government cannot provide for people and reassure people.
The Church helped me the most. I received that first scholarship because of the Diocese who sent me from my village to that college. But now I don’t have contacts — I still have connections with my Diocese, but my village has been destroyed. So there is no way they can help now.
I would like to go back to my village, but there is still too much water. My home has fallen. If the flooding had not happened, people would use motorboats to go and look for fish. There is a tradition of boats in our village; the boats are made of trees. I would go fishing too if I lived there. I know fishing. We hope that the water will go down and we can go back.
I have returned to South Sudan three times. I like South Sudan — every time I see peace coming, I come back; every time I see war breaking out, I go back to a foreign country. I was the most optimistic in 2005 when the peace agreement was signed. But the war broke again, and we lost hope — no more hope for me. Perhaps hope for my children; if they get a good education, they may be able to help me.
*Name has been changed to protect identity
This interview is part of the many Samuel Hall conducted as part of the Return and Reintegration in South Sudan (REF) project under the Research and Evidence Facility (REF), supported by the Emergency Trust Fund for Africa of the European Union — EUTF . It has been edited only for clarity and
has been published with due consent from the respondent.
