The Centurial Anti-establishment Rope of Social and Economic Slavery in South Sudan.

Posted: November 16, 2018 by Awuol Gabriel Arok in Awuol Gabriel Arok, Junub Sudan, Opinion Writers

By Awuol Gabriel Arok, Juba, South Sudan

 

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Friday, November 16, 2018 (PW) —my neighbor’s kid snobbery journey into the bizarre land of human hunters and his holmic escaped from the fence of slavery is part of the desolated stories experiences by many victims of abduction and kidnapping.

If one could swear before the Almighty God, absolutely those people killed his father and burnt their house.

They are the one that killed his father before they kidnapped him at the tender age of 5 during the dark cover of the night and inhumanly dragged him along the elephant grasses toward the unknown destination.

In a flashy recap, he and his parents had just had a soft evening meal of a mashed pumpkin.

Few minutes before they went to sleep, his grandfather narrated to the family’s members how his childhood and adulthood days were spent before the blanket of aging cover much of his once energetic body.

After few minutes of interlude the aging giant abruptly raised his voice and said “this boy is precisely who I was during my childhood”

Just after that the victim who was a toddler of five years crafted into the beautifulness of the life journey.

His eye felt thick with dizziness and has to go to the hut; then his grandfather was escorted to the house by the mother while his father inspects the cattle in the kraal.

The whole evening was peaceful, 3 hours later into the fateful night he was escorted out of the hut by his mother for a call of nature and shortly after 30 minutes back into the house, the devil breathed its suffocated suffering  and the fizzy generational loss befallen his beautiful family.

Abruptly the jungle wolves appeared clothed up in human skin and pathetically the giant and beautiful world that previously exist slowly changed it face and became so mean and unforgiving to him.

Without taking a dot of time the strangers  hooked down his dear father and extended their poisonous claws and fangs of sorrow into his tenderly ribs.

While attempting to show the powerless will of refusal the crying tot was brutally dragged over the lifeless body of his father by the human wolves and was finally mortified and secluded from the best world he knew to the unknown world of brutality and evil feeders.

His left hand landed into the pool of gauzing blood from the holed ribs cage of his lifeless father, as the burning ball of terror sprayed over his tiny soul he was feebly taken by the jungle foxes, the crawlers and inhabitants of the jungle holes.

He was dragged and at a time swigged on the disfigure shoulder of the human devils, after Four hours of tactical running, hiding and withdrawal they finally came into an open space at the day break.

Having ensure their safety from eminent followers the night crawlers tried to fed the feeble kid with a piece of dried meat that he declined for two reasons, firstly he assumed it to be simply that of his dead father and secondly his culture does not allowed eating of the uncooked meat.

After another Three hours of normal walk then appeared a scattered huts of settlement, the bush crawlers tried to hob nob him in their filthy language of the wilderness but in his mind are questions of why do these crawlers killed his father, secondly why have they snatched him away from his birth heath, thirdly how long will he be with these Devilish creatures and fourthly how will he identify himself.

All those conjectures were nothing to the little boys of 5 years under the teary hands of vicious abductors but high in his precious throne the creator was observing their bloody mission.

After weary journey, they finally arrived at his new home to be where old and young with strange looking faces came to see the new founded hunt by those who are crowned as pillars and flag carriers of the community.

Two years later among the bush crawlers and at the toddler age of 7 the slavered child remembered the warmth words of his grandpa the evening before his father was killed and him snatched away by the hunters.

Life became harder and bitter as the crawlers tried to fit him into their devilish lifestyle of thievery and lottery.

One evening while sitting around the evening fire the young boy coiled himself around the fire heath while his phony old mother chewed in some tough bush meat.

As he wondered what life holds for him then came a neighbor’s child running toward their shapeless hut and reported to them that there are some strange looking folks who have just arrived from a distant far where the territorial kings dwells and where on the Peace mission.

The boy went on with the narration of what exactly the messengers had come for.

With interest and great attention the little lad followed the narrations.

The following morning all the villagers were called to a meeting with the interior messengers, having known how important the meeting will be the little boy positioned himself at the forefront in order to catches the glimpse of what was going to crop up.

An introduction was given by the head of the mission and that included reasons why they have taken the long route from the interior to the jungle settlements.

The first reason was to dismantle the root cause of conflicts and hatred among the communities.

Secondly they were there to prepare peaceful ground for development and prosperity for all.

After three of the messengers had spoken the ground was opened to the villagers for contributions, comments and opinions.

One of the crawlers thanks the messengers and the super team that had sent them all the way from the interior to their village.

Secondly he was so happy with the mentioning of peace, unity and development which he assumed to be so vital for human progress and successes but before he ended his speech he accused some of their neighbors of name smudging.

Within the raw of the line before the infamous human dealer took back to his position, the abductee momentary look and flip through and with no hesitation raised his little boyish hand amid fear and loveless among the fiery looking eyes of the crawlers.

Luckily, he was spotted by the overwrought Messenger who was astonished by the braveness and vivacity of the little one out of many conspicuous elders.

With eagerness to know what he was going to say, the exceedingly excited Messenger gestured the little boy to pass his message of concern.

On lagging stand and with extra speedy budge mixed with fear of loneliness he rose up and bluntly without greeting shouted at the top of his voice “Messenger he was the one”

The messenger with shock of disbelief turned to him with the reciting question of “The one who did what”?

While on the bitter pill of the truth he bluntly told them that the man in front of them was the one that killed his father and took him away from his ancestral village.

All was quiet and the atmospheric balancing was zero but on the silver plate of humanity the messengers were touched.

Among the duties that they have taken under the national oaths, difficult and embarrassing phenomena were some of the assignment that they were assigned to tackle.

After the boy had spoken the leading Messenger grabbed his hand and pushed him toward another messenger who was behind him and the towel of humanity was thrown over his boggy face.

After a long discussion diverged with fierce argument and compelling speeches, all was well on the boy side at the end of the meeting.

He was well assured by the head Messenger that he will be going with them to the Interior where he will be handed over to his village chief.

The boy was over taken by the sudden promise of freedom that will finally separate him from the devilish crawlers’ that he had been with for two years of bloody slavery.

Days later the team together with the little boy arrived at the  Interior where he was unified with his blood kin but unfortunately before he pay a courtesy visit to his father grave the crawlers hit again  and two of his uncle children were abducted and the village headman was killed.

This heinous exploit is what gives the worried child the wondering question of who will slash the centurial bloody rope of human slavery?

Awuol Gabriel Arok, a Writer and a Poet, has a Bachelor Degree in Social and Developmental Studies from the University of Juba, South Sudan, he is a Columnist with The Dawn Newspaper under column “The Motivation Bell”.  He is the author of unpublished book titled ‘‘The Wisdom Horn’’ , he contributes to Websites and Social Media platforms  on Issues concerning Social, Economic and Politic s and through his peaceful and developmental campaigns such as ‘‘Your Tribe is My Tribe’’, ‘‘Giving Heart Foundation’’, “Wisdom Testament”, “Classic Leadership Forum”, “Grace the Women Foundation”, “PeaceNet Initiative” and “Award for Development”. He can be reached via his email Address: jjmkamzeearokson@yahoo.com 

 

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