Obituary: In Remembrance of Comrade John Wuoi Athieu
7 min readDear Brother John Wuoi Athieu, R.I.P in Adelaide, the City of Churches
By Kur Wël Kur, Adelaide, Australia
Dear John,
October 21, 2016 (SSB) — Today, I am writing this letter to your living soul to inform you of your resting place. John, you’ll rest in Adelaide, the City of Churches. A city where you became a father; a city where your lovely and precious four children were born; a city where you spent most of your time, loving life in Australia.
Remember, your children are here. Your best friend, Anyieth Mabiei Yuol is here. Adelaide Cobra, the Dinka wrestling team you co-founded is here. Adelaide was a big part of you more than any other city in Australia. John, it’s taking so long (3 weeks already, since you passed away.) to bury your body because we’re waiting for your loving mother. Hopefully, she arrives from South Sudan soon.
John to remind you of the cause of our death! On 27 September 2016, you landed in Darwin (Northern Territory) to look for work. And in that fatal night, the night of 1st October, you were in the same car with Anyuat Kur Deng and Aguto Majhok was driving the car. As the city (Darwin’s) news reported, the car you were traveling in collided with a road train (with three carriages) head-on, hitting the last carriage of the road-train.
The impact of the crash uprooted the car seat you were sitting on, pushing you forward to hit the front passenger seat with your forehead. John, the injuries that robbed us of your life are on your forehead and in your neck. The impact broke your neck!
As a living soul, the soul of Anyuat Kur Deng is with you and The Living God. Anyuat sustained a head injury too. You left the cruel world together. As I write this letter, I know your smiles beam down from heaven.
Nothing that we could do,
If we were so powerful to handle the chances of life and death,
We would recall you back to life.
But perishables we are,
We cried aware,
Of our limitations.
Your death stupefied us.
But we can share the memory of you with the whole world. No other memories greater than the memories you gave us and your children are giving us.
John, when you were here, you were full of life. You were a sport enthusiast. You loved Australian Football League (AFL). You chose and followed the Mighty Hawthorn, a home team of your former city, Hobart, Tasmania. You proudly wore the Hawthorn vest and the scarf with these famous writings: HAWTHORN. ALWAYS.
I am sure you remember the superstars of Hawthorn: Jordan Lewis, Sam Mitchell (the winner of Peter Crimmins’ medal), Shaun Burgoyne, Grant Birchall and Kaiden Brand, the best First Year Player.
These memories are from your Australian side. But if I go back to your roots, the roots of being a Dinka of South Sudan. You grew up loving the peaceful Dinka wrestling, the pride of Dinka (Chuei -to- Chuei Dinka).
You followed wrestling tournaments back on the Dinka land in South Sudan. You watched heaps of them on You Tube and on DVDS. You co-founded Cobra, the Adelaide wrestling team.
So, there came a time when the Melbourne wrestling team was to face the Cobra giants. The match was postponed several times, then forever. You and Achiek Nai (Mayoola) Mayen came to my house. You gave me a task of facing Malual-adol. I agreed on a condition that we must practice every Saturday, because after 25 years wrestling had faded from my life. We practiced on one Saturday and both my shoulders couldn’t handle your weight.
So, for three months the excruciating pain gnawed my shoulders. I will remember you my brother, not with pain in my shoulders but for your sportsmanship, and your enthusiasm in wrestling and dancing.
Your children are giving us unforgettable memories of you.
Your wonderful and beautiful children love you and they’re missing you so bad.
And this is how:
On 11th October at around six-thirty in the evening, our women readied the dinner on the dinner-table. We served ourselves. Then Akol, your son initiated these dialogues between him and his uncle, Karakoon (Mabior Athieu Mach).
“I want to eat with you (on the same plate) and you’ll hand-feed me”, he said.
“Okay, sit here”, Karakoon said, pulling a white plastic chair beside him.
Akol, your son prattled for some minutes and then these lines streamed out of him:
“You look like my dad”, he said.
“Yes, because he’s my brother”, Karakoon said.
“Then you’re my dad”, he continued.
“No, your dad is your dad. I am your uncle”, Karakoon said.
Akol wanted to say why Karakoon resembles you (remember your ears are the same ears Karakoon has) but he got lost in his articulation so he grabbed Uncle Karakoon by the ear and said:
“I will bite off your ear”!
“Why?” his uncle asked.
I was wolfing the content of my plate because I was in a hurry. But these dialogues slowed me down. I was shocked. I thought your lovely brother would break down and burst into tears. However, Karakoon concealed the pain of your death and of your adorable son’s words in his heart. I was amazed by the resilience of the human soul.
Another memory: One day, I showed up at Nyiejok Nyok Anuan’s house where we mourned your death. No other man was present in the house. There were a handful of women consoling the mother of your children. Your children, Nyiejok’s and mine were playing in the backyard. So, instead of wallowing in pain and despair of your death, I volunteered to look after our precious children. I grabbed a chair and sat in the backyard, watching them play. Other children lost themselves in their play, but Nyajok and Ajah were not very much involved.
They stood behind me, leaning on the chair. I had my phone in my hand so Nyajok politely took it to play games. However, instead of pressing the games folder, she poked at the Facebook App (application) and viewed the newsfeeds on my Facebook wall. On hearing of your death, a lot of your relatives and friends jammed the Facebook with condolences and your photos. Nyajok saw one of your photos, and she started to cry while showing the photo to Akol. Akol twisted his mouth in a way to start crying.
“Don’t copy me”, Nyajok yelled at him.
“Mama, Nyajok is crying,” Ajah informed the mother of your children.
“Why?” their mother asked.
“She saw daddy’s photo,” Ajah replied.
Nyajok was called into the house to take her mind off the bitterness of your death. I was disappointed, blaming myself for causing that sadness. However, my brother, every tear they (your children) drop is a thread of their connection and love to you.
John, you’re gone, but not forgotten. Forever, you will live in our memories until we meet again!
Kur Wel Kur has a Bachelor Degree in Genetics and Zoology from Australian National University (ANU). He pursues a Masters of International Security Studies at Macquarie University (Australia). He is presently the General Secretary of Greater Bor Community in Adelaide, Australia. He can be reached via his email contact: kurwelkur @ yahoo.com
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