A timely piece of advice from a war hero to his son 

Posted: February 19, 2018 by PaanLuel Wël Media Ltd. in Junub Sudan, Opinion Articles, Opinion Writers

By Chol Michael Maker, Juba, South Sudan


Chiefs Michael Maker Deng (tall one behind) with his fellow Bor County chiefs posing for a picture at Freedom Hotel in Bor, 8 April 2016, after intra-communal Peace conference in Bor picture by Mach Samuel Peter

February 19, 2018 (SSB) — this is a timely piece of pieces of advice offered by a war veteran, Gen. Chol Michael Maker, to his son.

Listen to me son and take my advice wholeheartedly,
Look straight into my eyes lest you miss a point and answer every question handsomely,
Lie to me not son for I am your father who raised you singlehandedly.

You have to learn son that word patriotism is not mentioned in the Bible,
Yell and scream son, but betrayal is what you always get abundantly,

Youth that my life was robbed of and all I gained is regret painfully,
Years have gone by and I have no qualms with he who lynched me spiritually.

But you need to know what I have done with the life I should have lived peacefully,

Bear in your mind son that liberation struggle against our enemies have yielded fruits of fiefdom instead of freedom,

Bring your ears, my son, for I want to whisper a word or two for your wisdom,
My future is you so waste no time to join any camp of those who killed the spirit of patriotism.

Most of us who were liberators have become beggars and laggards so no nationalism to pride your dignity of,

Men and women who toiled for this soil cannot afford oil for we must coil our tails as yesterday’s traitors’ moil and who today have set up ablaze our country to boil,

Make no mistake my son to trust those who have mistreated heroes at the expense of villains,

Man up my son for there is always a light at the end of the tunnel.

Long gone are the days when comradeship was a pride, unlike today in which a turncoat becomes a celebrity,

Liberation struggle that I joined has deprived you of a privilege of being a son that I dreamt of to father and spoil with love and indeed a decent life,

Leave me alone son and go away for there’s nothing I can do to send you to school, and make no attempt to steal though I haven’t put a bread on the table,

Look around for a job although the menial one may not do you good to fend for yourself.

I am a failed father and indeed a loser who should at least hustle even on domestic drudgery,

Ideals through which I have sacrificed all seemed to have gone amiss because I had taken my countrymen for granted,

Identify with cowards son for there’s no doubt that braves are nowadays feasting with vultures on the garbages where Lords of Poverty tossed the wasted food.

Dog is no longer an insult son since your father is the very underdog produced by the liberation struggle,

Dodgers are truly South Sudanese and the standby erstwhile turncoats are proudly seasoned lifesavers,

Don’t cry for me son and don’t lose hope that tomorrow will wipe away the tears from your face if at all I was right to join the war of liberation.

Sometimes it’s advisable to rub shoulders with the kingmakers, but remember to stay away from the crowd in case you have become so familiar, for they may vilify you to justify their mistreatment of you as I have suffered the bug,

Sure you might have wished me success in what I do to win a bread for you and your siblings, mother and most probably my extended family or distant relatives,

Sad, my son the hope is yet to travel another one more mile our way, if at all a blessing is blown up by the wind of the rain that rained in the desolate desert.

Patriotism, I repeat son has never licked my eyes as I do often peruse pages of the Holy Bible, nor did nationalism ever lessens the guilt it has cursed me with,

People that I have met along the way tend to confuse me with their selfishness as their motives kept on reciprocating around and equally along their self-interests,

Peace that you yearn for the most is pierced and pieced by their rings that are solely attached to their ends, and if not served then the country must fall into a deep abyss,

O’ no my son blame me not for having failed to cater to your needs,
Our country has been hijacked by the heartless people who think you and I are illegal aliens,

Original cadres are mercilessly kept hostages by the same strangers we have hosted as kinsmen, alas denied us a porridge meal.

Dear son I am the father and you’re the son and they are the Holy Spirit by proxy, and as I bless you now you must always remember to live your life knowing that history is written by those who have the authority and not necessarily by those who paid price to cement the liberty with their blood.

Don’t worry son for I have never regretted the time I spent in the trenches for you’re the product of my life in the bush that should otherwise be exceptional.

Deliberately to the last, but not the least, always try to differentiate between hero and villain my son, for victory is such a precious thing that can easily be stolen by the weaklings and cowards of the country who have never experienced what it takes a man to be free.

Dear Heavenly Father,
Thank you for Your unfailing grace.
You know the area where my son is weak. Shape him this year in ways that could only reflect Your power working in and around him.
In Your Mighty name, I pray,

Monday, 19 February 2018
Juba, South Sudan

The opinion expressed here is solely the view of the writer. The veracity of any claim made is the responsibility of the author, not PaanLuel Wël: South Sudanese Bloggers (SSB) website. If you want to submit an opinion article, commentary or news analysis, please email it to paanluel2011@gmail.com. PaanLuel Wël website (SSB) do reserve the right to edit or reject material before publication. Please include your full name, a short biography, email address, city and the country you are writing from.

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