The Guns have Ruined our Culture: Gelweng and the Gun-Class Mentality in South Sudan
By Willy Mayom Maker, Canada
Wednesday, April 22, 2020 (PW) — The guns have ruined our culture. The armed traditional warriors often resort to firearms even with a slight provocation.
Who would blame them? They are called Gelwong (“protector of the cow”) – a name with economic (not cultural) connotation. It’s no surprise that the Gelwong are morally corrupted, just like their politicians who armed and equipped them. Killing, cattle rustling, looting, raping, drinking, and all other culturally unacceptable practices are common in the society, a result of this toxic culture of firearms.
The previous warriors carried spears. Forget about guns. The guns are for cowards, or they encourage cowardice or barbaric acts. You hide in a trench or behind a tree, and then you squeeze the trigger, killing everything that moves. That’s just cowardice and barbaric.
The combination of spears and a shield was the display of art. The speed and agility, the leaping up in the air and landing; the launching or dodging of a spear; each move artistically calculated and accompanied by personal boasting phrases. The fitness and stamina involved was the art in its purest.
Everywhere an aparapuol went, he carried a bundle of thoroughly polished and light flat-bladed spears balanced over one shoulder. He bravely faced an enemy or a beast, say a lion, with these weapons.
“I have stabbed the lion until the beast broke the shaft,” boasted a young warrior. “The cowards run away.”
A young lad, named Maker Meen Ajuong, from our village, Biling Daldiar, had taken the art of spear-fight to the next level. He was famously known as Maker-Gok because he was initially from Gok Arol Kachuol.
According to the story I heard, Meen Ajuong impregnated a girl. But the girl was given to a man from the Gok section. So Maker was born in Cueibet area, where he grew up and received the Gok’s scarification marks.
When he became an adult, he traced his biological father back to our village, Biling Daldiar/Loiyic area, in the early 1980s. His arrival was marked by a big celebration, where bulls were killed to welcome him into the family.
Maker-Gok turned out to be the bravest warrior. He met his brother, Marial Meen Ajuong, who was also a renowned warrior. The duals, from the Pan-Ajuong sub-section of Athoi, were killers in the art of spear fight.
Maker-Gok invented the style of intercepting spears in midair. When speared in a battle, Maker-Gok dodged by just avoiding the tip of the spear, and then he caught the spear in midair and launched it back at you. He speared you with your own spear, and he hardly missed, mind you.
As a little boy, I wanted to be like Maker. Once, I challenged a friend of mine, a boy named Matoc Makuach, to spear me with a sharpened stick (wai). He obliged and hauled the shaft at me. I dodged and tried to catch the shaft in midair, Maker-Gok’s style. Bad idea! The shaft speared my hand, and its tip broke inside the flesh. I still have the scar on my right hand. I had never tried Maker-Gok’s move again.
Maniong Akot was another renowned warrior. I had never met or seen Maniong; I did not even know where he lived or which sub-section he hailed from. But I heard a lot about him. Everyone talked about Maniong Akot.
Maniong was the bravest, and his spear throw was the most accurate and deadly. Maniong killed an elephant with a single strike, I heard, which made him very famous among his peers.
Remember, hunting with a spear was more dangerous than hunting with a gun. If you missed with a spear, you only scare the game away. If you struck a beast, such as an elephant, buffalo or rhino, then you had to face the wildest wounded beast, which was never safe. Maniong hit the vital spot, heart or lungs, on the chosen game, killing it instantly.
The big games were hunted not just for meat but for material needs. Buffaloes were hunted because of their skins, which were used as shields. Rhinos and elephants provided horns or tusks, which were produced into beautification accessories.
The way it worked was that whoever speared the beast first, got the trophy. For example, if you spear an elephant first and your spear hit the beast, then the right tusk of the elephants (tung cuëëc) was automatically yours. The second hitter got the left tusk (tung ciɛɛm). The rest (all the losers) would get a piece of meat each. Maniong always received the right tusk or both.
In 1985 or 96, I watch young men in action at Ghan Ayuol Cattle Camp. A rogue male elephant came late in the afternoon. Women and children, myself included, climbed on the platform (kät nhom) for safety, as the aparapuool grabbed their spears and encircled the beats, just at the outskirt of the camp. I was watching the whole episode while standing on the platform.
A recently initiated young lad (I forgot his name) charged and launched a spear first. The weapon found its mark on the back of the beast. The young lad was ecstatic. “Tung cuëëc dië,” he shouted, letting people know that he had struck the beast first and that the right tusk was his.
The young lad then did the unthinkable. He left the action and went to find a tall anthill, where he climbed on top so that everyone could see and hear him. Then, he started to chant on the top of his voice, uttering his boasting phrases.
The elephant was killed, skinned, divided, and cooked; meanwhile, the young man was still standing on the top of the anthill, singing and boasting. The young lad chanted all night. The following morning, every girl in the camp was singing his song.
The Gelwong know nothing about these prestigious cultural practices. I hope Marial Meen Ajuong, Maker Meen Ajuong, and Maniong Akot are still alive.
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