Letter To Jesus Of Nazareth
13 min readBy Tears Ayuen (Borglobe.com)
Dear Jesus of Nazareth,
Though I’m not your faithful, I want to talk to you today. My friends say you’re a good friend of theirs. They say good things about you. They even encouraged me to read your biography written in a book titled The New Testament. In that book, I learned a lot about you; you performed miracles: raised the dead, fed a multitude with only two fish & five loaves of bread. You even walked on water. Wonderful! Well, the most stunning thing I got to know about you is where you were born, in a manger!! Under poor conditions! Damn! And the then ruler wanted to have you slain because he learnt you were to be great, a king, forcing your parents to flee to Egypt with you. Sadly, you lost your life to some ungrateful folks, your own people. Sorry, mate.
You know what? We share one or two things in common; I was born in a forest, under a tall tree where there were no medicines, no food no nothing. Worst of all someone lied to my then president, Omar Bashir, that I would be great. So, he ordered his soldiers to make man-made rains of bombs and missiles rain on my village, causing my mother to sneak me and my siblings into Kenya. See? We share some significant similarities though your father was a carpenter and mine, a soldier. Your mother, Mary, according the book, was a church thing; my mother, Martha is addicted to your teachings. She spends most of her time around the church. Since I was a kid, she has been reading a big book named “Kitap de Duor” that I later learned it’s the “Thuongjang” translation of your life history.
Now to the point, having danced with angels, having drunk holy wine, having eaten heavenly birthday cake and having delighted during your two-thousandth and something birthday anniversary on Sunday, I want you to think about my countrymen, leaders in particular. Do me a favor; just concentrate on my country’s issues. Don’t even think about our neighbors. Kenyans are strong now. They hold any stubborn politician by the ear. Ugandans are super fine; they frog-march thief leaders to police stations. Forget about the people of the Democratic Republic of Congo. They’re gone. Corruption has swallowed them alive, whole and intact. It’s too late to rescue them. North Sudanese will be okay. They just realized that Bashir’s 22-year regime has been nothing but thievery plus dictatorship. The youths have been politically charged. They will topple the bhang-smoking Bashir the Ghadafi way. Wait and see. Give them few days. Though Ethiopians are practicing the word “exodus”, don’t worry about them. You will find out what they are running away from, later on. Deal, right?
I’m from South Sudan, an African state that just attained independence from the descendants and believers of Prophet Mohamed, the founder of Islam who happens to be your religious rival. No, the word rival is more of a sport; he is your religious enemy. By the way, I was made to understand the other day that his followers are converting more people all over the world as many turn away from Christianity on grounds of failure to uphold Christian values by church leaders. I heard that big church leaders, really big ones, sleep around with young boys, some, with married women. Someone said catholic is the worst. It’s crazy.
Back to the point, my leaders liberated us from Arabs, a fact that makes them think that they’re untouchable, unquestionable. They’re running the affairs of the nation the way that pleases them. They have customized the national affairs. They talk too much and do little or nothing at all. They invest outside the baby-nation. They have bought expensive houses in the neighboring countries; some have houses in America and Europe! The vehicles they ride are like those of the U-S hip hop musicians – highly costly. As the people they allegedly went to the bush for get consumed by acute poverty, most of them spend money, public money, on travels and unnecessary projects. I heard they recently had a retreat in Mombasa whereby they “burnt” millions of Shillings.
Something keeps telling me that South Sudan is a polite word for corruption. Everyone talks about it; in the streets, in bars, in matatus, under trees, everywhere. Everyone speaks against it; church leaders, politicians, women, boys and girls. And nothing happens. Every new day is just like the other day. Even the president, a bearded man who always wears cowboy hat, always says he’s fighting it but his efforts are ever abortive. I’m afraid, if the president doesn’t do anything about corruption in his government, I think, dogs, cats and even cows would begin to complain about it!
My leaders are busy. In fact, they have been busy, busy working on personal projects and stealing. Yes, stealing. Even the anti-corruption guys who supposedly prevent corruption are involved. One of them is, this week, in the news for embezzling millions of pounds. See?
Opposition leaders who are suppose to act as check and balance of the ruling party are useless. They represent tribes. They don’t have substantial agendas. They’re all nothing but a bunch of sycophants. All they strive for is position.
Civil society organizations are not any better. They are run by lazy mutes. I’m not sure if they really understand their roles. Or if they do, the fact that they get funding from the government deactivates them. They’re good at keeping silent.
If you’re going to do anything, please start with SSTV. Shut it down! News bulletin begins with a minister and ends with another. All they say is where they visited and when, where they will visit and when. What they plan to do. That’s all. Directors work hand in hand with the government. They waste the young reporters as they instruct them what stories to chase and what not to, leaving no room for creativity, thus “murdering” their potentials and stunting journalistic growth. The journalists are warned against asking big men “bad questions”. You should see them in the field. No questions are asked. If any, it could be after the minister forgot to include, in his yapping, the duration of his or her visit. They shamelessly blamelessly place a minister before a camera. He then talks, talks and talks, talks about nothing. No one understands the contents of SSTV programs. They are hosted by old dudes with ancient mentality. Don’t hesitate to shut it down. Please!
The riches of the newest nation are being looted by foreign nationals with the help of our leaders. Let’s talk about job opportunities. Companies are mushrooming. Organizations are already in place and others are coming soon, both local and international. Instead of channeling all these opportunities to the badly needy employable youth, our rulers give them out to their friends across the borders. This is how it goes; an influential guy orders his friend or brother in the department of immigration to process national IDs for his girlfriend, her friends and even friends of her friends. Remember, they’re not southerners. They are economic immigrants who escape economic crises in their states. These guys eventually get jobs because they’re highly qualified and experienced. All this goes undetected because the labor ministry seems to be reluctant on this matter. It should have a committee that monitors the activities of NGOs. Most NGOs think South Sudanese are incapable of working, or more precisely, unemployable. This is why foreigners have taken over almost everything in Juba; public transport industry, hotels. And leaders pretend that there is nothing wrong with it. Hail Mary!
The youth are good for nothing either. I think they choose to tolerate poor governance because the leaders are their uncles and aunts who sometimes support them. However, making necessary noise against corrupt individuals would be like biting the fingers that feed you. There’s a representative in the government. The dude is rarely seen. Nobody knows what he is up to. Perhaps he fits well in the skirts of, “if you can’t beat them, join them.”
In conclusion, please make them realize what they are leaders for. President Salva says his government is zero-tolerant to corruption. Make him mean it. Make him differentiate friendship from government business. I want to see him act upon any official who fails to account for his spending. Once more, make the MPs represent their constituents, not their football teams of children and concubines. The people they go to the parliament for are pretty poor. Living standards haven’t changed since your father created earth. No roads, no health centers, no running water. It’s worst in my birth place, Jonglei. Insecurity tops the list of things to worry about when you get to my state. It’s easier to kill someone than buy a bottle of beer in Jonglei. The issue needs a simple solution but no one seems to long for it. Thanks to too much nose picking amongst the top leaders……..! Don’t tell them what I told you lest someone shaves my dreadlocks with a broken piece of glass.
A moment of truth, I lied to you about who actually wanted to murder me. It wasn’t Bashir; it was the current Vice President, Riek Machar. He got deceived by some witch that I would one day be a problem to him. He ordered his soldiers to kill me. They went about killing everyone of my kind in Bor but they couldn’t harm me because my mum fled with me. His soldiers drove away our cattle, about seven-hundred and fifty heads; our only means of livelihood by then. I was born to be a cattle keeper or maybe a cattle rustler. His actions changed the whole thing. I’m now counted amongst learned South Sudanese. My friends call me white collar hustler… [Smiles].Besides, I’m friends with him now. And he happens to be my favorite politician.
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Dear Uncle,
By Tears Ayuen
You just offered me your old V-8 and credited my bank account with a huge amount of dollars but I don’t think that will stop me from speaking my mind. There’s something that I have been keeping to myself, something that I have always wanted to tell you, something that disturbs me, something my peers abhor you for. I defend you though. It is high time now I tell you in this short note. It’s going to be disheartening, however, close your eyes and take a deep breath before you proceed to the next paragraph.
Here we go…… it’s both ironical and incomprehensible how our grandfathers, fathers, aunts, friends, mothers, sisters and even yourself bled, sweated and shed tears, sacrificially, for more than a century in a quest to detach south Sudanese from the claws of Islamic rule yet you still dumbly ignorantly selfishly plug us in the socket of Arab world by indecisively rushing to their states in order to attract investments, given the hidden agenda that comes with their development proposals.
An Arab is an Arab; be he a sheikh, politician, hawker or shopkeeper. His mission is one and simple; to Arabize and Islamize anyone, anywhere. I don’t think you need a PhD in History to trace back how they came and the price of their presence in Sudan, of which we have paid dearly. Even your seven-year son can recite it before an international audience. An Arab always strives to change you, in and out; from names, color of skin, lifestyle, name it. You ask the people of Nuba Mountains.
Let me take you back a little bit by elaborating how ungrateful ingrates this folks are. Back in the day, the Arabs came to Sudan as single male merchants. I repeat; single male merchants. They arrived and settled in Khartoum, an area allegedly inhabited by Dinka people. That was before the cleverer race invented the calendar. As they carried on with their businesses, and after they showered the unsuspecting Dinka chiefs and elders with gifts of mirrors, sweets, salt and soaps, they requested the old dudes for a number of things. First of all, they asked for pieces of land for erecting shops. And then they asked for girls for marriage, a request I suspect the sly Dinka people gladly assented to since they felt it was the best way to rid of their ugly, promiscuous and lazy daughters. Remember, today’s Dinka folks practice that business. They marry off our unmarriageable sisters to foreigners. Doesn’t that remind you of what happened the other day?
Anyway, the girl-sweet-salt-business continued as long as the first guys found it lucrative. They invited over their brothers, uncles and friends back home to join them. They eventually multiplied and started showing their true colors – master-like behaviors. They began to control everything, both that moved and that didn’t. They did a lot with the natives. They sold some into slavery and made some laborers. But with the inability of cattle-rearing communities to succumb to change easily, the Dinka waged countless wars against their nieces but lost, forcing them to migrate to different parts of Sudan. See? Northerners are our biological nieces because their existence is as aresult of the aforementioned unions. I understand the Dinka were so arrogant, some still are, such that a slave would turn away leftovers, claiming that he should have partaken in the meals at the table with his master’s family. Since then, the feud rages on.
Now, wasn’t it yesterday that the Nile River overflowed with blood and bodies of innocent womenand children that were ceremoniously slaughtered by Arabs just because they refused to be Arabic? Or has it been too long to remember the root cause of the 21-year civil war that claimed 2.5 million lives and displaced 4 million more, including your children?
Then, what on earth makes you travel to their cities to lobby investments from their companies? Who has bewitched you, uncle? Does south Sudan have to attract investments from the Middle East? What world records have they set or broken in terms of development apart from high unemployment rates, Low wages and widespread poverty?
Or do you have shares in the Arab companies you bring in the baby country? In fact, rumors say so. I will stop here because I feel the few remarks will brainstorm you.
One more thing, I want you to talk to your daughter; the one who calls herself Lady Gaga. She drinks a lot lately. She has made a lot of broke friends who she drinks with day in day out. I doubt she attends her classes regularly. Haven’t you been wondering why she keeps asking you for more money? Apparently, she is an ATM machine. There’s this broke boyfriend of hers who has assumed the nature of a tick. The guy clings to her so badly. She pays his rent, buys him pants. I tried to talk her out of her brand new lifestyle but she instead hailed insults at me, calling me names.
Furthermore, she doesn’t wear enough clothes nowadays. The first thing you see when she appears is her breasts. They hang naked; with only the nipples covered. When asked why, she says our grandmas used to wear nothing at all. “So, why disturb someone who has at least dressed?” She asks. The next thing to worry about her dress code is her skirts. They are too short. You can see her underwear even when she is standing! And she calls anyone who dares rebuke her, uncivilized.
You must be wondering why I haven’t deposited all the money into your foreign bank account. It’s because the bank manager, on seeing stacks of dollars, and especially after I failed to account for the source, threatened to call cops on me. I lied to him that it was for a registered company based in Juba. He instructed me to get proper papers in order to bank the notes, and that was after I bribed him heavily. I have resorted to banking the money in bits pieces just to avoid possible interrogations by Interpol. I will have banked it all by June this year. If I may ask, where did you get this large sum from, uncle?
I almost forgot. I’m obliged to educate you about your concubine. Forgive my English. I would have used a better or at least mannerly reference had the English people created a polite word for concubine. She is playing you. I mean, she fakes her love for you believe it or not. Worst of all, the baby is not yours. The father of the baby is an old boyfriend who she broke up with after she conceived. I learned that the dude disowned her because he didn’t have what it takes to feed extra mouths; but he resurfaced when he realized she is alive and kicking.
Thanks to your unsuspectingness. Or is it negligence? You may find it hard to believe this: I, for no specific reason, tampered with her phone while she was in the kitchen. I entered into the “sent items” folder where I found an SMS that she sent. It reads “dear sweetheart, there’s no reason you should doubt my forgiveness. I told you last time that I do understand why you refused to take responsibility for my pregnancy. You were a student and had no money. Besides, the baby is yours….. I love you and want you so bad. The old fool left for Juba this morning, come home tonight and correct what the old man doesn’t do right…………….”
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