By Majok Arol Dhieu, Juba, South Sudan
March 20, 2017 (SSB) — I stood; with a pair of shoes in one hand and one on another, staring at the man in a well-fitting black suit neatly ironed. He seated in a car with a cigarette in his hand and smoke penetrating his nostrils and his mouth. A man whose name I later learned was Paul. His second name was untold.
He pressed a button that lowered the glass in order to speak to the people whom I was standing with. The imprudent look in the man’s eye gave me way to fear. I goggle-eyed elbow my way through the crowd of the people to the roadside little a bit far away from him because his eyes were starting to betray him as if he was having a different plan for us.
He was asked if there’s something for the day by the people I suspected to be his tribesmen because they were speaking the same dialect, but negatively, he said, “kɔc aɣöc”. I heard, but wasn’t floating my boat since I haven’t familiarized myself with the word.