Archive for May 28, 2018

By Deng Vanang, Nairobi, Kenya

Monday, May 28, 2018 (PW) — Totally so indifferent to the cruel fate of our dying, maimed and displaced people by their millions, main man in the heart of wildly raging four-year-old furnace rules out any conflict-proof-mechanism or pact minus him at the top.

Casting a glance at the opposite extreme, bonded serfs dismiss out of hand any agreement without feudal lords seen as part of what ails.

As the rest tenaciously salivate at poisoned chalice, cum plumb jobs, unrepentant felon dangles before their lustful eyes to either lure them back to {or maintain them in} the same death spot.

You may not be any of those cited unscrupulous characters directly, but if your naivety and ignorance aid the very callous political calculus of such an irritating circus, you are as good as part of the perennial problem than its much sought after solution. (more…)

A Mother’s Appeal

Posted: May 28, 2018 by mayendengdit in Junub Sudan

A Peace Poem by Mama Acoldit Wour Abyei titled “A Mother’s Appeal.”

By. Mama Helen Achol Wour Abyei

My dear children, South Sudan.

You forgot how our life used to be when

I gave birth to all 64 of you my daughters and sons.

I was feared by all, the most powerful mother under the sun.


We were known for our kindness and our hospitality.

We cared for each other and beyond, because we had plenty.

I fed you; I nurtured you and treated you equally.

Ladu, Aluel, Gatkwoth, Nyachengjwok, Keji, Anango, Garang, Riya,

Ukel, Juye and more…. I love you all; I do love you all sincerely.

I taught you hard work, the love of God and to treat your neighbor respectfully.

I still remember

When we used to walk our vast forest with no convoy, no harm or fear.

When you would chase after our calves, chicks, kids and lambs with cheers.

When you chase each other, giggling through the morning dew.

No stranger passes by without tasting our food.

No orphan left to grieve or kept in a sad mood.

I still vividly do remember.

Seeing you all healthy, eating organic fruits and vegetables.

Drinking fresh milk and clean water, nothing was impossible.

We shared our funerals, and together read the Bible.

We celebrated our graduations and weddings as one people.

My children forgive us the elders.

It is purely our fault; we messed you up, forgive us.

We made you hate and kill each other, forgive us.

We made you humiliate your aunts and sisters, forgive us.

We taught you greed and selfishness, we are corrupt, forgive us.

We now want a better future for you; it is not too late, just forgive us.

My children South Sudan.

Take me back to those wonderful days of peace and prosperity.

Take me back to those wonderful days of love and harmony.

Take me back to when we wake up to the sound of the birds chirping.

I know and trust that you, my children can do it.

To find ways to end this suffering, you can do it.

To speak up for each other and uplift the weak, you can do it.

To reach out and sponsor a child orphan you can do it.

To unite and positively speak with one loud, clear voice, you can do it.

To forgive each other and reconcile, you can do it.

To bring me back my pride and my dignity, you can do it.

I can feel it; I can feel peace just around the corner

Because my beloved children said yes, mom, we can and will do it.


With the eyes of my heart, I can see you lighten our burden.

I can you stop the bloodshed and make every child look well fed.

With no unknown gunman and no innocent slaughter.

I can see my children coming home from where they fled.

I can see every house and every corner filled with laughter.

I can see you building the broken walls of our country’s infrastructure.

Then imagine, close your eyes and…just imagine.

Modern classrooms for all levels of education everywhere.

Modern hospitals, advance laboratories anywhere.

Highways exporting our first class oil and our produce to anywhere.

Our gold, our natural resources that are needed somewhere.

Imagine yourself a medical doctor, a diplomat, an engineer or a lecturer.

Or an entrepreneur, with your private jet, your expertise is needed over there.

This is the country I, your mother must leave for you.

I want to clean up the mess, help me make this dream come true.

 Remember we must go back to where nothing for us was impossible.

And let us start now, from right here.

© 2018.

The author, Mama Acholdit Wour Abyei went to the United States as a refugee in 2003. She was a banker in Wau and Khartoum for more than 25 years where she rose to the position of Manager of  one of the branches of the Bank of Khartoum  in Khartoum. In the United States, she challenged the odds and obtained a Bachelor of Arts in Psychology from the Colorado State University at the age of 61. She has authored a number of short plays and poems. She can be reached at

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