The Price of Liberation: We Were Not Passengers in the SPLM/SPLA Liberation Struggle in South Sudan
Emmanuel Sunday de John2
We were not passengers during the liberation struggle!
We were the actual price!
“From the forests of Dima to the mountaintop of Boma, and from Kapoeta to Torit, Magwi, Kaya, and finally home, Yirol. This is one survivor’s account of the arduous journey back and the toll it took”.
By Dr. Sunday de John
A brief excerpt from a personal recollection of the liberation struggle.
In 1992, after the fall of Mengistu Haile Mariam and the collapse of the Ethiopian government that had provided us refuge, we were forced to leave the country that had sheltered us, and we began our long journey on foot. Initially, we were in Dima. From Dima, we traversed dense forests, passing through Markes, Kor-Anyuak, and Kor-Ramula, eventually making our way to Jebel Raad, where we crossed the Raad River. The crossing came at a cost, but we persevered. General Bol Madut held the line at Raad, bravely defending the town and that river, and thanks to his efforts, fewer of us fell on the other side, alive and well.
From Raad, we were moved to Korchum, also known as Pakok, which was under the command of Captain Malong Chol Awan. While we had many direct commanders in the Jesh-Amer, we specifically fell under Captain Dau, 1st Lieutenant Suleman Ayul, Tet Baboth, Bol Marial Machot, and Lokingi. The chief medical officer was Mama AdharArop, who cared for us with relentless commitment, giving everything she had. We remained in Korchum for an extended period; even those who had fled from Panyido, Itang, and other camps; having survived the catastrophe at Gilo and made their way through Pochalla, were eventually brought through Obodi and Tierkothi and routed onward to Kapoeta and later to Narus. Meanwhile, we stayed behind, and conditions worsened with each passing month.
Our commanders were reassigned to other fronts as Seif el Ubur continued to consume territory. What remained in Korchum were children, hunger, and the heavy burden of abandonment. We relied on roots for sustenance. Ugandans were present in Korchum, and they killed some of our colleagues for stealing cassava and sweet potatoes from their farms. This is not an exaggeration; life had been reduced to that. After a year, we were gradually relocated through Murle land—first to Kor-Bulldozer, then to Nyaat, then to Nyalongoro, and finally to Boma. When the Arabs captured Pibor, we ascended higher to Boma Pok, the mountaintop. We survived by fishing in the small Boma River and selling whatever little we had left to the nearby Ngalam and Kechipocommunities.
“We survived on roots from trees and shrubs whose names we didn’t even know. Sometimes, we feasted on bush rats and monkeys. Ugandans were killing our fellow members for stealing cassava. Our existence had been reduced to just that.”
It was Commander Kuol Dim Kuol who, through his steady and careful leadership, ultimately led us back down from that mountain—traversing Jiye territories, crossing the Kosongor desert, passing through Magos, and finally arriving in Kapoeta. Just two days after our arrival, Commander Achuil Manoldit’s garrison received intel about an enemy force that might be moving to capture the town. The attack occurred the very next morning. We fled to the Kormarchi outpost and waited until the afternoon, when we repositioned ourselves near the outpost’s exit to the main road. It was at that moment that we learned Dr. Mohamoud had died—his entire family with him, including Lokitala, a young boy I had played with during my very first visit to Kapoeta years earlier, when we were still traveling northward to Ethiopia. He had been my friend. He was gone.
A day’s travel brought us to Kedipo, but it came at a cost. Toposa warriors, then allied with Arab forces, attacked us in repeated waves, dismantling SPLM/A positions along the route. Boya warriors had joined their effort. The protection camp was raided, resulting in the deaths of soldiers stationed there. From Kedipo, we set out for Isoki—also known as Isoke—guided by one man who made all the difference: Mr. Barnaam, a son of Lakes. He led us through Jebel Lobira on paths that completely bypassed the main road. Those who took the main road faced an attack. We were fortunate because Barnaam knew Eastern Equatoria as intimately as most men know their own homes. Lieutenant Rin Tueny Mabor, Kulang Makeny, and other sons of Yirol, who were there for intelligence training, greeted us upon reaching Isoki. They ensured our safety and provided us with both shelter and the little food in their possession.
The Dongotono mountains surrounding Isoki brought relentless rain, prompting us to move again—through Ebegilik, to Ikotos, and then to Torit via Lopurka and Imehejek. We spent less than a day in Torit before Commander Kuol Manyang ordered us onward to Emarok and then to Magwi. From Magwi, we proceeded to Atapi through Opari, while some advanced ahead to Pageri. The rebellion led by William Nyuon Bany erupted in Pageri, and we faced the dire consequences. We lost soldiers from our families. The youngsters were placed under the command of Lieutenant Malich Mangar Chep, who took them away and did not return. None of them came back.
“Malich Mangar Chep took the youngsters from Atapi to Pageri and then to the Amee-Magwi junction, where he fought a fierce battle and never returned. His name should be included in every account of the sacrifices we made on that road and for the liberty cause.”
It was Commander Daniel Ayual Makoi who intervened on our behalf. Through long-range radio communication, he spoke directly with the commander-in-chief, Dr. John Garangde Mabior, to request permission for our return to Yirol. In response, Dr. Garang granted approval. Daniel Ayual was a respected commander who had survived and resisted the Nasir declaration and had trekked from Nasir to Bahr el Gazal. Subsequently, Dr. Garang assigned Commander Mario Muormuor, stationed in Kajokeji, to facilitate our journey.
We traveled through Nyarbang and Lobojo—also known as Tarabbar—where the only SPLA streamer along that route was being protected by Lieutenant Marial Nuor Jok. He welcomed us warmly, rekindling a feeling that had been absent for months—the sense of being received. Following the orders of Commander Mario Muormuor, we continued from Kubri Isaiah Paul to Bomeri and then to Kaya, where we encountered a significant number of people from Yirol. The senior commanders present included Commander Mager Achiek Tol and Alternate Commander Marial Chanuong Yol, both of whom graciously welcomed us. Additionally, Marial Chanuong, known for his willingness to take on responsibility, accommodated all of us in his home in Kaya 2 for several months.
We stayed until a UN convoy, which was delivering humanitarian aid to Agutran, agreed to take us home. We traveled along narrow paths that had been cut to avoid enemy-held towns like Yei, passing to Agutran through Mvolo while crossing Pan-Pawer-Lindo-Ingwa, and Wowwow, which proved to be quite challenging. Finally, we arrived home. My uncle, Manoah James Mamol, who was the then-CMA of Panekuek, took me and my cousins, Captain Jurkuch Bol and Emmanuel Bol Marial, straight to our grandmother. He guided us from Agutran through the villages of Aterbai and Abuongkeu, alongside the Ngop River, to Bunagok. We had just arrived when Bunagok came under attack by Aringaforces, resulting in the death of Mading Kuol’s wife. Mading Kuol was the commander of the Bunagok barracks during the raid.
From Bunagok, I crossed to Bol-Kamin, located on the far side of the Lil’ grassland, where I stayed with Mariano Jok Kurun, a family uncle. My intended journey to the cattle camp of Makolkech in Aliap, where my grandmother Ayor Mayen awaited, was interrupted by news that Sudan Armed Forces convoys were crossing from Tali to Yirol town in large numbers for a military redeployment. We were unable to move. When the convoy arrived, it was ambushed—by Mariano Jok Kurun and soldiers under 2nd Lieutenant Majok Maker Gum. They fought the enemy for an entire day before being joined by Captain Abraham Jongror Deng, whose forces struck at Pirchok and pursued the enemy all the way to Wan-Pananeet. Majok Maker Gum did not return. Others who fought that day also did not come back. They are named here because they must be remembered.
Now that we have our country, no one can tell us we have no stake in its affairs. We are not mere guests in this narrative, we are the narrative or rather the essence of the narrative. We remember the forests we traversed. We recall the names of every river we crossed. We honor those who held the line and those who never returned home.
We survived the enemy’s attacks, the Antonov bombardments, the Toposa, Boya and other militias raids, and the hunger of Korchum, along with other hardships, the rebellion at Pageri, and every ambush in between. We sold our rugged clothes to ensure that we would see tomorrow free from the bite of hunger.
We are both the makers and products of this very history you are attempting to distort; we shed blood. We are little heroes. We support President Salva and his government because we have reflected and rediscovered that he was not swayed by circumstances and has never collaborated with the enemy. Now we have the right tools to build anything. We will not surrender our aspirations to cartels and forgers of history. We will survive and strive to create our nation. Steal enough and leave us to build it. We have created it with our bare hands, and we can build it again with our resources.
More will be said.
Till then, yours truly, Mr. Teetotaler!
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