The Tears of Choice! Kush society has history of hating their leaders

By Madit Them Arop, Juba, South Sudan

Thursday, August 27, 2020 (PW) — Grandfather had reason to choose death. Pride misled him and future forced him into the inevitable trench. He left with mixed feelings. His efforts would have no trace, will never be sustained, will be for assumption, and willbe for cheap talks. But eventually, the journey will be unforgettable perhaps by the invisible self. 

The little foundation built through sweat is decayed by now yet vestiges still grips the witnessing page. The remnants may do no good to breathing idlers though the intention holds tangible truth. 

The residues are black-boxers. Going left and right in manipulative manner is joking pain. History is not taught to its creator. The black boxers are aware of the intention, they are informed about the future, but are not able to sound the alarm. The surrounding has deformed them to listens with eyes and sees with stomachs and laughs with grab to satisfy agenda. 

Hopelessly, no one is like grandfather. Nature deleted his type for strange reasons. He could oversee unalterable peril coming. He was able to have a conquerable solution to any situation. He was admired and glorified with mucous of blessings. But however one is worshiped, nothing is permanent except change! 

Then leaking bug entered into his administration. The islanders he governed started to sneezed with doubts around his respectful throne. And as such, qualm grown into heap of division among the islanders. Blames served that the grandfather of the island has exercised equality baton in unbalanced way. 

One day he had to make a decision that could bring every islander to consensus. But he had no other side of supporters to back him up. The island might have been hijacked by citizens with demonic ills. 

Grandfather knew the threat as the rest lives in darkness. They have no idea on endangerment hanging above and within the island. 

At the end, indiscriminative reasons made grandfather to accept death to save islanders on his side. His death divided the mood. The atmosphere was friendly and appreciative on one scale and unbalanced with sadness on the other. Laughs turned uncontrollable in an island of unaffected side of the habitants. The day that secretly awaited broke the tactical silence into joy. 

Kush society has history of hating their leaders. After a while in their chains, death must happen with intended call in that community. Admirers of death have believed in that death existed for a reason, and nature cannot separate bad from good. They are equal and identical. Each has a role to play or fulfill. When a child is born, good is winning. Celebration on this side rises dust in amusement. In such moments, bereavement is mourning until favors open up again. 

Jokdit, the father of Kush has been avoiding the ride to the darkest corner in life for long. Yet, his thinking is back to childish. Activities turns atrocious and chaotic in his watch. Forces in two islands encroached opposite breathing facts. Detaching life to disorganize one island is one thing and fighting to let it remains intact is serious business to confront on another page. 

Jokdit is in dilemma. Every point has oppositions with unmatched proposals. One proposed item is for him to handover throne to death. Since good has led the throne for sometimes, this has been argued for quite a while. Jokdit had been in the interest of good to replace him because it will sustain the island. 

In his sleep; however, he could dream of his own death, and death itself took over the island from good. The choice got nearer but with unwelcoming sign. This can’t happen, to leave death with throne means taking everything with me, Jokdit would talked in his own circle. The island would be nothing, he bragged about; and he would be gone so is the island. In his view, the people in the island will have no future. Death is not futuristic. His views put death on non-living page. The breathless is trustless to yield into a sustainable outcome. 

Jokdit brought the islanders together for a meeting. Good appeared while bad declined. Good is in tangible form; nonetheless, bad present is known after it’s struck. It comes in form of a storm, of a disaster and of tornados, sometimes in breakable voices that vibrates with incomprehensible noises. 

The meeting had no reachable solution. Everything was unilateral, bad part was unbacked up. The unilateral group pushed the ball to Jokdit, their leader to decide and decide wisely! 

Resolution was for Jokdit to make decision that could save the islanders. Horrendously, to save is to never allow death to take over the island. Saving other islanders; however, is not favorable either from death perspective. It’s the foundational interest for death to generate more bad lucks to accommodate itself in the mess. 

Days given to Jokdit to reveal the decision elapsed with nothing reached. The appalling part was that Jokdit was born in mixed capacities. He was half human and half demon. That has been the reality kept him leading both islanders with opposite traits. 

But with time, Jokdit’s type had never been born again while he grown older. This puts the island into difficult state to get a qualified leader who can lead both islanders. The demonic spirit has derelict off leaving Jokdit purely in human form, and incapable to lead. 

The missing gap could be the linking gap. For island to sustain itself under one leader, Jokdit’s type must be found. Stretched in search for double ended kind took long without success. And inactive of Jokdit increases problems in the island.

Manifestation of leadership was void. Every move was flammable against Jokdit, begun with random disappearance of people, illnesses with no one to sought directive from, assets were continuously taken by unfamiliar folks, and other properties were unquestionably destroyed. Disorganization of the island had become visibly unhealable! Too late to salvage the island but something doable is being encouraged. 

Jokdit reached the decision. He decided to divide the island into two compartments with independent leaderships. One side leaded by good, the human like type and the other by other foggy deeds. 

But before announcing it to the public, fretful news stunned everybody that Jokdit had made a lifesaving decision. Celebrations started in some part of the island and other side deafly hinted nothing. It patiently waited for the actual day! 

Jokdit stood on highland in an area estimated to be the center between the divided island to deliver the awaited decision. He begun to say few things before getting into the crux of the message. For some mysterious reasons, his voice was breaking and few words he managed to release were in stammering rhythm. 

He was being controlled by forces of foggy. The bad side got the chance to insert its forces along the messaging pipe within Jokdit’s. Nobody to redirect the strength. The demonic immune in him died out in the process, death took it away leaving Jokdit virginally human. 

He was demonized and devilishly dehorned! Tiringly, the evilest surrounded other groups as they talked in threatening manner with intend to terrorize the island. 

Everything was intentional and humiliating. Their quest was to eliminate all that existed to remain only with one class race—the demonic race. And final expedition would be followed by an execution of Jokdit in a paraded ceremony. 

It was agreed to never slaughtered or lynched or injected, but to beat Jokdit to death by pulling him around with a halting rope tied on the horse’s thigh. 

While the episode continued, suffering was high and shameful on the human side of the island as they faced the inescapable killings. 

Begging Jokdit to save his people from such ruthless forces turned into unhelpful choice. Jokdit’s voice lacks central communication substance. However, he tried, nothing seemed to heal yet the force advanced further on victims still in breathable mode. 

The intention had been to clean up the opposite class including Jokdit. 

Jokdit had no other options as he starred at the blanketed life in front of him. The wearable choice granted to him was to finish the remaining human loyalists using sword dangling low around his neck. Or else, to allow himself get pegged on a standby horse to run about with none adjustable speed. If he survived well and good, if not then the interest was achieved. 

The third option was to have his loyalists beaten him up to death so that they were spared. 

Jokdit had no other choice so he had to choose being beaten to death. He had chosen death to save few patriotic humans after demon conquered the island. Though he didn’t know their fate after his passed on, the decision becomes the tears of choice. Jokdit had reason to choose death as he breathlessly slept in hopeless state with nothing left behind to be remembered for except blame without historical pride.

Just an idea!

The author, Madit Them Arop, is a concerned South Sudanese citizen who resides in Juba, South Sudan, and can be reached via his email address: aropmadit@gmail.com

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