Jesh Amer: The Unsung Heroes of South Sudan

The Unsung Heroes: The Red Army of South Sudan

By Willy Mayom Maker, British Columbia, Canada

Wednesday, October 28, 2020 (PW) — The Red Army was first founded in the early 1900s when the Soviet government conscripted unemployed workers into the military. These compulsively recruited soldiers, named the Red Army, became the most significant in the fight against Germany. Six and a half decades later, however, the name Red Army resurfaced in the continent of Africa—Sudan. In their battle against the Khartoum regime, Southern Sudanese formed one of the army units named Jeish el Ahmer (“Red Army”), which later became the most powerful fighters in the liberation of what is now known as the Republic of South Sudan.

It all began in 1983 when President Nimeri, supported by the entire Arab world, imposed Sharia Islamic Law in the whole country. This violated the civil and religious liberty of Southerners who were non-Muslims. Subsequently, the Southerners retaliated by rebelling and forming an army named Sudan People’s Liberation Army (the SPLA) with its political wing, Sudan People’s Liberation Movement (the SPLM). Africa’s longest and bloodiest civil war erupted.

The volunteer fighters who arrived in Ethiopia in large numbers for training were mixed: boys, girls, men, and old men. It’s imperative to mention that the SPLA was a guerrilla movement, and in any guerrilla movement, anyone who volunteers—young or old, male or female—has a role to play towards the set goal. The volunteer fighters were practically categorized into four: Katiba Awalat (“Boys’ Battalion”), Katiba Banat (“Girls’ Battalion”), Katiba Rujal (“Men’s Battalion”), and Katiba Ajaziin (“Old Men’s Battalion”). Later, the majority of the Girls’ Battalion became wives, and they mothered future fighters. On the other hand, the Old Men’s Battalion members became a part of the SPLM, whose function included mobilization of resources. This left both the Boys’ Battalion and Men’ Battalion as the main fighters on battlefields.

When the SPLA gained momentum, the fighters were historically categorized into two: the Boys’ Battalion— roughly age below twenty—became Jeish el Ahmer —the Red Army. And the Men’s Battalion—age above twenty—became Jeish el Aswuot—the Black Army. Every division of the SPLA (Koryom, Muormuor, Kazuk, Zalzal, Intifadha, infijar, etc.) was comprised of both the Black Army and Red Army.

The names the Red Army resonated well among South Sudanese, partly because of its cultural resemblance. You see, when an African child is born, its color is always red. And when the child grows, it turns black. Hence, a newly born child is called manh ë lual, meaning “the red child.” So the Red Army and Black Army fighters were viewed in this cultural context, and both the movement and populace were fond of them. However, it is unclear whether the name Red Army was derived from this cultural reference or copied from the Soviets. Whatever the case was, the Red Army became the most lethal, top-secret weapon of the SPLA/M.

On the other hand, the name Red Army attracted the world’s attention. Geneva prohibits the recruitment and use of anyone under eighteen in hostilities, and the prohibition is applicable in both international and non-international armed conflicts. Because of this, the SPLA was extremely discreet in the Red Army fighters’ training and deployment. In camps where Red Army fighters were trained, filming was prohibited. For example, in Dimma, where 80 percent of the Red Army combatants came from, it was illegal to carry a camera, let alone take pictures.

Understandably, it was the war of oppressed, so the SPLA ought to win the war by all means, so everyone had to participate. In most cases, the Black Army fighters were outnumbered, undersupplied, and lacked weaponry and ammunition. And so when the SPLA had exhausted all its options, the last best hope was the Red Army. “Intum akar jiebi (You are my last pocket),” the Commander in Chief, Dr. Garang, used to say to the Red Army. And indeed, the Red Army did not let the movement down. Thoroughly indoctrinated, they were the most loyal and devoted fighters.

Historically, South Sudan has remarkably tenacious, ardent, and fiery fighters who were not afraid to die for the sake of their country and people. While the Arabs were hiding their children in Khartoum and the wealthy South Sudanese were sending their children to safety abroad, the Red Armies were willing to die alongside their counterparts, the Black Armies, for the sake of freedom, liberty, and the pursuit of self-determination. These heroes (both Black Army and Red Army) bore the war against the heavily armed Khartoum regime. Every South Sudanese owes a debt to the liberators and martyrs of South Sudan for what they had sacrificed to get the job done.

In countless battles, the Red Army beat the enemy, alongside their country part, the Black Army. For example, the Red Army forces thwarted the enemy’s plans, executed successful raids and ambushes against the enemy, captured towns, and defended areas controlled by the SPLA with their population. Pibor, for example, was captured by the Red Army of Zalzal One in 1987. The Red Army’s conviction, bravery, and willingness to die in action were apparent in their morale songs:

Jeish el Ahmer does not know death.
What is death?
We die moving forward,
While holding the AK47s up high and shooting;
The Red Army is coming;
Watch out, you bourgeoisie!

Irrespective of their tremendous contribution to the Republic of South Sudan’s liberation, however, the Red Army did not always get the credit they deserved. The SPLA was ill-prepared to give the Red Army what they earned. Back then, the highest ranks a Red Army could get were five chevrons. Their counterparts, the black Armies, received high ranks right after training. This explains the ranks disparities existing between the two armies of the SPLA.

The Red Army had sacrificed their entire childhood for the sake of this country. Every veteran believed in the cause for which they had fought. But what did they get in the end? Nothing! Now you don’t see a single Red Army in any ministerial position in the South Sudan government. Never!

Back then, when the SPLA was overwhelmed in frontlines, they ran to Ethiopia to mobilize Red Army forces to come and rescue the situation. “You are the last pockets of the movement,” they said.

Now the SPLA is struggling to govern the country to no avail. The government is in chaos; the economy has crumbled; infrastructure is never heard of. The SPLA is losing the battle of the social, political, and economic development. The remnants of the Red Army are in Western countries equipped with first-world education. But instead of running to the West to mobilize the veterans (the last pockets) to go and rescue the situation, the SPLA continues to recycle the same old folks who got us in this mess in the first place. What a waste!

The country which people had liberated had already forgotten the veterans. The society which they had fought and died for treats them with contempt. The ex-fighters in towns and cities across South Sudan are told not to bring their “bush mentality.” The Red Armies who had sacrificed their childhood are mocked for their cultural incompetence. “Lost boy/girls,” the bullying society called them.

Yes, we may be lost, but we consider ourselves to be the luckiest ones. Over two million of our comrades, who weren’t so fortunate, had died in the war—vanished utterly without a trace. Everyone who was in the SPLA remembers things in particular about life in the bush. We continue to have flashbacks.

I once sat next to my best friend and comrade, named Ring Ring Machar (famous as Ring Adhardit). In one minute, we laughed and joked; in the next, he was lying in a pool of blood as bullets found their marks in his head. I was around twelve years old, and it was the first time I witnessed death since I joined the movement; the first time I saw what damage a bullet could cause in the head. I can’t describe in detail what I saw because it was too gruesome. But I couldn’t even shed a tear. My tear reservoir no longer produced some. My body had become taunted muscles and bones with no excess fluid to waste in the form of sweat or tears.

As I stood over staring at my friend’s lifeless body, one big greenfly came and sat on the twig next to Ring’s lifeless body. The fly looked at me, looked at the dead body, and looked at me again. It was as if the fly wondered why these “lost boys” with big guns had such a short lifespan. Finally, the fly looked at me once more, and I wear, it shook its head and flew away. The fly probably had seen enough of these lost boys, wearing tattered clothes and carrying big guns, but died easily just like them—the flies.

The Guerrilla life had transformed us into monsters who talked to nonhumans. It’s incredible how the constant brush with near-death experiences cranked one’s survival instinct to its maximum. You saw a herd of deer running passed by without even noticing you. You better get ready to fight or run, for the enemy was coming. A flock of birds suddenly dove from the sky in a disarrayed manner; you better take cover for the mortars were coming.

While we were busy trying to stay alive, society was adapting and readapting to the changing environment. On their return, many veterans are still struggling to readjust to civilian life—a challenging transition. Without social skills, it’s challenging to fit in socially. Subsequently, many veterans are fighting for their sanity.

A friend of mine now walks on Canadian streets, and when he sees Canadians, he tries to match them like soldiers. “Dhum fi saf, musijiddiin. Talaa-taat,” he would say, “Keep in line, you recruits—three rows!” And when you call him, he sings revolutionary songs. If you don’t sing with him, he will never answer your call again. Clearly, he is fighting for sanity.

We had lost our identities when we joined the war. The new and vague terms “comrade” and “Jeish el Ahmer” given to us had divorced us from our traditional root, and we were just sons of guerrilla warfare. The platoon members were the siblings; squad and company members were extended families; battalion and division were the clans; the SPLA was the prominent tribe, and commanders were the parents. So those martyrs who died in the bushes vanished in this elusive relationship.

“Rest In Peace!” people often say. This phrase is far from comforting. The martyrs who died in the SPLA can’t rest in peace because their bones are still withering in the Tingili, Ajak-Ageer, and Akobo deserts; chattering on top of the Ethiopian mountains; soaking in Gilo, Rhad, or Nile rivers, and loitering in South Sudan jungles and savannahs. They can’t rest in peace because they were not properly buried or mourned. Their parents did not even know how, where, or when their loved ones had died.

Most importantly, how can they rest in peace when the country which they fought and died for is being destroyed? Living veterans can’t even rest in peace. So how can the martyrs rest in peace? We know our historical contributions, folks. Loot the resources all you want, but you better leave our history alone. History is priceless, and it belongs to the rightful owners.

The Red Army fighters are not going to be like most of the Anyanya One fighters who had died without anyone knowing their names. We are writing books to reclaim our history. Those who are messing up our country will always be on the wrong side of our history.

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