Archive for the ‘Tearz Ayuen’ Category


By Tearz Ayuen, Nairobi, Kenya

minister

Sabina Dario Lokolong, deputy minister for humanitarian affairs and disaster management, Nov 201

March 29, 2017 (SSB) — Dear PaanLuel Wël, I’ve been wondering whether government officials think about what the people think about them. We’re talking political and social recognition here. Reputation too.

Given what’s happening in this country, don’t you think every government official should explain, verbally or in writing, why he or she is an important person in the society and be recognized and treated respectfully by every common man like myself?

Title aside. Personal achievements during the 21-year struggle aside. Military ranks aside. Social status aside. Belly size aside.

Yes; every single official deserves respect, but the problem is, respect is like salary. It’s earned. Isn’t it? One has to work hard for it, sweat for it. If you don’t work, you don’t get paid. Right?

(more…)

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By Tearz Ayuen, Juba, South Sudan

April 13, 2016 (SSB)  —-  What’s wrong with these ‘SPLM’ people, ya jamana? Why do they keep causing national crises? Do they really have conscience? Do they have souls? What a bunch of shameless heartless swayers. How could they scarify the fuel?

First of all, after they were granted self-autonomy by the 2005 Comprehensive Peace Agreement, they chose stomach-buttock-neck fattening over nation building. They engaged (and still are) in a wealth amassing marathon.

(more…)


THE HARD LIFE IN JUBA

By Tearz Ayuen

Waiting for peace from Addis Ababa

Waiting for peace from Addis Ababa

June 5, 2015 (SSB)  —   Hehe. What’s happening in Juba right now reminds me of one evolution theory that I learnt about in high school. Or was it primary school? Damn. My memory is dull. Or have I aged already? I didn’t like biology, anyway. I’m talking about survival of the fittest.

Life’s getting harder in Juba. To survive, some non-Barkazeel are now learning how to speak thong Barkazeel (Dinka Rek dialect). Hehe. Let me explain.

This crisis has affected every citizen in one way or another. Domino effect unarguably applies here.

In South Sudan, specifically in Juba, economy is dying. Others would say it’s already dead. Businesses are collapsing. Others have already collapsed, dead and RIPed.

Market prices, like Jesus in Jewish mythology, have ascended. You would need a telescope to see some of them. Again, some basic market commodities are scarce. Thanks to US dollars. Fuel is hoarded by oil dealers. Some people have packed their cars. They walk to work. Others have sold their vehicles at throw-away prices to meet other living costs.

Irrespective of all that, salary remains the same. People are desperate, broke. Those who were able to afford a beer bottle before just can’t afford now.

Rich businessmen and senior government officials who used to pelt friends and relatives with bundles of money for fun have changed their phone numbers.

Others have moved to hotels. Why? To avoid platoons of relatives who keep knocking on their doors to tell them stories about their own problems.

Virtues and values are gone. And dishonesty is the first casualty. And this is widespread in the business community. Cheating, especially amongst businesspeople, is on the rise. Friends are setting up friends in fake deals. Some have been jailed for failing to repay huge amounts in loan. That’s the general state of affairs.

I don’t know why some of non-Barkazeel are undergoing dialectical assimilation right now but think about Aristotle’s’ deductive reasoning. I believe Barkazeel monopolize public money, power and influence.

In order to get a business deal, a contract, one needs to get close to or use some influential friend from there to push for it. To get into his or her head, you need to bribe him psychologically – appease him.

So, speak some Apuk or Aguok or Kuach or Awan, speak your way to big fat government deals. Lol. ‘Aye wentui’ ‘Mith apol?’ ‘Ci bak?’ ‘Kontrak dan awar to kedi?’ lol!

***

Recently, a scuffle between a pedestrian and a motorist caused a huge scene in Juba, along Tombura Road. A man charged at a Nissan X-trail driver, reached for his throat and dragged him out of the car, head-butted him right in the nose, turning it into a blood tap. He beat him into a one-minute coma.

People rushed in and pulled him away. When asked why, he shamelessly said: “He refused to let me cross.” And he walked off. Really?

The driver cut off the man from crossing the road, according to eyewitnesses. As fate would have it, a traffic jam built up just about 200 meters away from the point the would-be attacker tried to cross.

So, the driver slowed down and eventually come to a complete halt. He was just there, seated in the car, in the jam, listening to music. And that’s when the man descended.

Why would I fight a motorist for ignoring my signal to allow me to cross the road? What amount of anger?

I’m not saying that the attacker had some sort of bad-economy-induced-trauma but you never know. With this crises, economic crisis, to be particular – everyone is getting his or her share, in one way or another. It comes in different shapes, sizes, and colors.

If this general situation persists, though, some of us surely will relocate to the UN camps in order to get free meals. Lol.

Pope Francis

***

However, as young people who do not wish to see or imagine this country come down to its knees in the nearest future, we tend to refuse to acknowledge the negative impact of the SPLM war of seats has had on the people of South Sudan as a whole.

Irrespective of the dying economy that comes as a result of ever wanting leadership, we still tend to make others, particularly the anti-government brothers, believe that the war hasn’t affected us in anyway – that everything is alright.

We still dress up smartly, hop into our rickety Japanese-made SUVs and sedans, and drive to work places just like before. We still crack jokes with our colleagues in office as we work.

As youth – Nuer, Bari, Shilluk, Dinka, name it – we still gather at nearby food joints whereby we dip our fingers in the same dishes as colleagues. In the evening, we offer lift to friends or colleagues.

We still worship our nightlife. On weekends, we put on tight outfits and dash to our favorite joints – The Mask, Signature, Nile Secret, Panafric, etc – where we try to dance, drink and smoke away the realities of South Sudan.

Tearz of Economy © 2015

The opinion expressed here is solely the view of the writer. The veracity of any claim made are the responsibility of the author, not PaanLuel Wël: South Sudanese Bloggers (SSB) website. If you want to submit an opinion article or news analysis, please email it to paanluel2011@gmail.com. SSB do reserve the right to edit the material before publication. Please include your full name, email address and the country you are writing from

WHAT’S PATRIOTISM MEASURED BY?

Posted: October 20, 2014 by PaanLuel Wël in Tearz Ayuen

By Tearz Ayuen, Nairobi

It seems that we South Sudanese can at times be peculiarly patriotic. When one’s uncle or auntie or in-law is appointed minister by President Kiir, he and his community turn into patriots so fast. They run around with the national flag. They defend the government even when it’s wrong. Like dogs, they sniff the air in an attempt to locate where dissenting voices are coming from.

They even learn how to sing that hymnal national anthem. And during state functions, they crock like frogs as they sing along.

Musicians compose platitudinal songs about the President, songs with which traditional dancers dance to. Other ‘patriots’ pray for the cowboy; not only on Sundays, at church, but also during social communal events.

“Nhiali’ny Aberem ku Ithak ku Jocop, yi awundun col Kiir Mayardit tiit ne jaa ka dhuoom.” (God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, please always protect your servant Kiir Mayardit from satanic forces)

And imagine such a prayer is said in a wedding!

They literally punch, in the nose, those who criticize Kiir and his arrogant, thieving, lying juniors. They expect everyone to swallow everything that comes from Kiir, including urine and spittle. They want everyone to talk sweet of him. Anyone who talks negative of the heavily bearded man is considered unpatriotic and deserves to be fed to the national security human dogs.

In March this year, I went to this new joint opposite Oasis, along the Nile. I sat on a stool at the counter, next to a table of drinking fellows. It was on a blazing Sunday afternoon. The young men were keeping it all grown-up over cold beer – talking about women, girls and so on. At some point, their conversation shifted to politics, particularly on the current crisis. And this old dude – probably in his late 40s or early 50s, parachuted from nowhere and asked what the youth mentioned the president’s name for. This drew my attention.

“You can’t talk about Kiir like that, ya shabab. This is his country. He runs it. He ‘worek’d’ hard to be where he is right now,” the man lectured them. I noticed that he had strong Arabic accent, the kind that looks for letter R in a word. His grammar was good, though. The visibly scared youth remained tight-lipped.

“Say one more time that Kiir has a hand in this crisis and I’ll call SPLA ‘Comondo’ on you right now. Just drink your beer ‘beraha’ and in case you run out of cash, let me know; I could buy you some.” I also saw he had gold-plated teeth, lower and upper canines. He got up, pulled his pants up to the level of navel (Congolese style) and meandered his way to the gents.

Such is a man who, when his auntie or in-law or himself, is kicked out through a presidential decree, quickly turns into a foul-mouthed rebel and begin to run black PR against the president.

Even those who were sucking the nation’s cow dry, in the name of making business before falling out with the administration, have now turned against Kiir. They’re now all over the social media where they launch anti-Kiir textual missiles.

So, what is patriotism measured by in South Sudan? First of all, what’s patriotism? American Philosophy Professor Stephen Nathanson defines patriotism as a ‘special concern for the well-being of the country’ or ‘special affection for one’s own country’.

So, when is one supposed to love South Sudan? Is patriotism measured by the amount of crumbs one picks from under the high tables? Is it by the number of uncles and aunts one has in the cabinet? Or is it by the position one holds in the government?

Famous English writer Julian Barnes in his novel Flaubert’s Parrot, for which he won Geoffrey Faber Memorial Prize in 1985, writes: “The greatest patriotism is to tell your country when it is behaving dishonorably, foolishly, viciously.”

Do we first help President Kiir’s government spifflicate the country through ineptitude, corruption, nepotism, totemism, and then when dismissed, we begin to tell him that he ‘is behaving dishonorably, foolishly, viciously’?
What patriotism is that?

And this goes to the self-made cherubs, the alleged potential saviors of the falling, failing nation – Pagan Amum, Majak de Agoot, John Luk, Dr. Riek, Rebecca Nyandeng and other self-deceiving SPLM-this-and-that seniors.

They now speak of Kiir having built no roads, no schools, no health facilities; they say the cowboy is mismanaging public funds. That he’s further plunging the young nation into political and economic abyss.

Well, when did Salva Kiir turn unintelligent, inept, weak and tyrannical? Obviously after he left them out in the political cold, isn’t it?

Yes President Kiir’s leadership is wanting. He deserves the most severe rebuke there is, but not from any SPLM renegade. Kiir should be criticized and mauled politically by South Sudanese without ‘blemish’ – those who never partook in the looting of the countries riches.

Anyway, we must be the most stupid people on earth. How do we worship the same people who co-engineered the downfall of the baby country? Why are we this cheap?

Tearz © 2014

Rebecca Nyandeng Chol: SHE’S A REBEL

Posted: August 18, 2014 by PaanLuel Wël in Commentary, Tearz Ayuen

By Tearz Ayuen, Kenya

Rebecca Nyandeng and Twic East County Commisioner, Dau Akoi, arriving at the celebration site at Panyagoor, 9 July 2012

Rebecca Nyandeng and Twic East County Commisioner, Dau Akoi, arriving at the celebration site at Panyagoor, 9 July 2012

That “ti’eng-jo’ok” named Rebecca Nyandeng Chol has farted, politically. So loudly. It’s both deafening and life-threatening. Actually, some of those who’re present at the scene died from the sound. Others have bleeding ears.

But I know every Bor (Duk, Twic East and Bor counties) she’s betrayed is trying to behave as if they hadn’t smelled or heard the sectional fart. I know we all are pretending that the political air still smells the same.

Even President Kiir himself, out of meekness and great respect for the late John Garang, pretends that he has smelled nothing, heard nothing; and that’s why he’s chosen to maintain the widow as his presidential advisor on gender affairs, despite the media war she has been waging against him.

But remember that such a fart can be more calamitous. It contains various unidentified toxic gases. Keep inhaling it at your own risk.

Those who’re struggling to sugarcoat the widow’s deeds and utterances by claiming that she is neutral in the current conflict have to explain what they mean, ‘neutral’. Anyone desperately looking for a neutral politician should try the likes of Dr Majak Ago’ot.

Along with ten other SPLM senior officials, he was accused of plotting the ‘attempted coup’ and detained for months…and later acquitted of treason charges for lack of evidence. However, he does not rant in the media. He’s working with both the rebels and the government to find a solution to the mess.

That celestial widow is a big time nyagat. It’s undeniable. Too bad. She rebelled against the elected government of the Republic of South Sudan and its people. She set ablaze the hut Hero John Garang built with his own hands. So, quit referring to her as the mother of nation; she is not. She is the Mother of Destruction, MOD.

The impeccable widow is the second mother of rebels. Angelina, the wife of Dr Riek, comes first. For those who always want sense and reason written into them, below are clues and facts indicative of her stand in this turmoil:

The mess we are in right now was brought about by the political greed in President Kiir and Dr Riek Machar. And the atrocities the country suffers are meted out on the people by both the rebel and government forces but the widow, the alleged mother of nation, condemns only one party to the conflict – the government’s. Any impartial citizen would scold both parties.

The Dinka, the Shilluk and the Nuer civilians bear the brunt of the violence. Civilians were killed in attacks. Their homes were torched and their valuables looted. Thousands fled to neighboring states or crossed borders. They have lost their dignity. But whenever that righteous widow opens her mouth to speak about the atrocities, she singles out the Nuer as the sufferers. She says they are targeted in Juba and elsewhere in the country.

“So when they came in, they targeted massacring Nuer members. A lot of officials, administrators in Juba were killed. This is what literally happened,” the London Evening Post quoted her.

At Bor airstrip during the first week of the conflict in December, prior to the interview, invading forces of insurgent Gatdet took control of the airfield. They would snatch manifests from UNMISS officers and read out names of the passengers. Anyone bearing Dinka names was not allowed to board. Many families were slaughtered here. A few escaped. She has never said anything about it.

The Dinka and Shilluk were also targeted in many other areas such as Akobo, Bentiu, Malakal and Renk. If our gracious widow was neutral, if she was the mother of nation as proclaimed, if she really cared about sixty-plus tribes, she would have spoken against all the ills committed against the three communities. She has never said anything about it.

In conclusion, somebody please tell her to stop talking as if South Sudan was some familial business empire once ran by her husband. It’s not a kingdom either. Cut the legacy crap.

John Garang was a good man. He fought for all of us. His death widowed every woman in this country, not Nyandeng alone. It orphaned every South Sudanese child. So, his legacy doesn’t necessarily have to be fulfilled by his wife or son or anyone his family anoints, it will be accomplished by any South Sudanese son or daughter – Zande or Didinga or Jie or Murle or Pojulu, name it.

And we are even. Anyone who wants to fistfight in the South Sudan’s political boxing ring has to use bare knuckles, no globes (Garang).

Tearz of politicians © 2014


DEAR UNCLE MAKUEI LUETH, CE KÖÖNY E BUOR LONO?

By Tearz Ayuen, Nairobi

While you execute your duties as the national minister of information and broadcasting, and the official spokesperson of the government of South Sudan, you’re making two grave mistakes. One, you’re becoming a stigmata on the reputation of Bor community. And two, you’re doing yourself a great harm – digging your own grave.

I will not dwell much on the fact that you and some of your peers are, in so many ways, tainting the already ‘vandalized’ face of Bor. We will talk about that some other day.

Uncle Makuei, do you know your leadership net worth? Do you know how much you weigh on the political scale? In case you didn’t know, you mean a lot, Uncle. You’re a great man. You’re a freedom fighter, a liberator. You are a senior government official, a minister. You’re one of the members of parliament representing Bor people in the national legislative assembly.

Your contributions in attaining and bettering South Sudan is inestimable.

Again, you’re one of the highly educated Bor elders. You’re an idol in the eyes of Bor people; they celebrate you. Musicians have composed songs about you. They sing your name.

All that puts you in a critical position whereby you have to watch what you say. You represent. That means anything that flies out of your mouth can either kill or save lives. It can either heighten or lessen tensions, violence.

Why are you everywhere falsely accusing everyone of rebellion? What happened to political correctness? What happened to diplomacy? A rebel is a person who takes part in an armed rebellion against the constituted authority, especially in the hope of improving conditions.

Uncle Makuei, these are modern times. The whole world is watching every move each and every South Sudan’s leader makes. You don’t have to personally pick an EX-34 Chain gun and shoot down a whole village in order to be indicted.

This is 2014. This is digital age. Anything dangerous one wishes, thinks or does is recorded and used against him or her in future.

There is something called hate speech. A hate speech maker can be defined as any person who utters words intended to incite feelings of contempt, hatred, hostility, violence or discrimination against any person, group or community on the basis of ethnicity or race.

In your book, media houses are rebels. Church leaders are rebels. Innocent displaced bereaved hungry women are rebels. Even malnourished dying babies are rebels! What sense does that make? What happened to morality?

I think many could categorize most of your statements under hate speech. You cannot refer to a baby a rebel just because it hails from a particular community whose some members have staged an insurgency.

You and your comrades can say anything about anyone, about any community, anytime, with impunity. That’s okay inu you rule. But for me, I call it short-term impunity inu there comes a time when one has to account for everything he had said or done or not done during his heyday.

Don’t ever think that you’re untouchable, forever. None of your colleagues is, either; including your boss, Kiir Mayardit. Hate speech might not have been constituted in the South Sudan interim constitution but it’s under international law. And the powers you think you have do not exist in the global village.

I hear members of the ruling clique cheer you on as you ‘defend’ the government. I hear them clap their hands every time you come on TV to speak against the West. I read Facebook and Twitter posts by your ‘supporters’ in which they pat you on the shoulder, encouraging you to keep ‘defending’ the legitimate government. Cool.

However, Uncle, what you don’t know or seem to be inconsiderate or negligent about is that, when that day comes, Salva Kiir will not be there for you, Buor will not be able to protect you, your colleagues will giggle and some will, in fact, throw parties to celebrate your descent.

I’m not telling you to stop supporting your regime, Uncle. I am not telling you to join Dr Riek, to be a rebel. Nor am I asking you to resign. No. What I am trying to say is that, carry on with your work but tread carefully. Your mouth. Your tongue. Your lips. I repeat: t-r-e-a-d c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y.

Summarily, in your quest for cleansing the skunk-stinky face of the Government of the Republic of South Sudan, do not be like a man who takes off the only clothes he possesses to clothe another naked man.

Tearz © 2014

 


I’D COMMIT SUICIDE IF UGANDA’S SECURITY SITUATION REACHED SOUTH SUDAN’S LEVEL

From rags to riches: the amazing transition of the South Sudanese Minister

From rags to riches: the amazing transition of the South Sudanese Minister

By Tearz Ayuen, Nairobi

I think South Sudan’s semi-politicians and their unreasoning supporters are sick in a peculiar way. They’ve ceased to think. Their skulls are devoid of that white stuff. Something must have eaten up their brains. Or perhaps they still think but not with their heads any more. They think with ‘kelil’.

Who are those ‘patriots’ angrily reacting to Ugandan President Museveni’s utterance that he would reportedly ‘hang himself’ if his country’s security situation reached South Sudan’s level?

It’s a plain undeniable truth. Actually, if South Sudan had true leaders, those with people-driven interests, some of them would have handed themselves to the International Criminal Court or committed suicide. This is because, one; they caused the mess the country is in right now. And two, they can contain it but they’ve chosen not to.

Why are they taking Mr Kaguta’s statement for an insult? Or have they already forgotten what they just did, what they’re doing to South Sudan and her citizens?

First, the government officials, SPLM fat cats to be precise, concentrated on ‘stomach-filling’ sport. They looted public funds for 8 years. 8 goddame 8 years. They stole all the petrodollars. They fattened their wives and concubines with it, and stashed millions in foreign banks.

No roads. No health facilities. No electricity. No running water. No nothing. Schools are 19thcenturial. Those are the results of their selfishness, their insatiable want for more money, people’s money.

And when they had had enough, when their bellies were about to burst open, they changed the game. They shifted to It’s-my-turn-to-be-the-president game, the new scramble. Any man who is greedy with anything is greedy with everything. Like starved hyenas, they fought over SPLM party.

Civilians then bore the brunt of the violent disagreement. The infrastructure that was put in place by the patriotic few is gone – set ablaze, shelled. Over 10,000 people are dead. A million have been displaced. And out of hundreds of thousands who have sought refuge in the neighboring countries, about 70,000 are in Uganda, President Museveni’s country.

And these pseudo-diplomats are shamelessly trying to attack Museveni for stating facts, for saying the truth? They’re trying to talk bad of the man who stopped the White Army from over-running Juba, the man who sacrificed his own soldiers for a leadership of an ‘un-leaderily’ bunch of political fraudsters. Had he not come for their rescue, some politicians’ heads would have now reached Egypt via the Nile.

The statement is not an insult. It’s not a verbal attack on the sovereignty of the Republic of South Sudan. But it’s a challenge. It simply says: If you don’t like the statement, if don’t want South Sudan to be cited for the wrong reasons, stop butchering your citizens, stop the violence, stop fighting over SPLM leadership, stop stealing from public coffers, stop running to Dubai to seek malarial treatment. Put down all the guns and start building the new nation.

Farting loudly and threatening to shoot dead laughers is not acceptable. By the way, it invites more laughter. If you don’t want to be laughed at, take full control of your political bowels. Period.

Tearz © 2014

 

WHY HATE ON A SISTER?

Posted: May 14, 2014 by PaanLuel Wël in Commentary, Tearz Ayuen

By Tearz Ayuen, Nairobi

I think it’s about time South Sudanese, the youth in particular, begin to understand the meaning of academic specialization, and appreciate each other’s breakthrough in any field of study rather than enviously work day and night to shoot down one another. 

The reason why we, the Kenyan 8-4-4 scholars, are forced to study over ten subjects – Maths, Kiswahili, English, Biology, Physics, Agriculture, Commerce, Geography, Home Science, Art and Craft & Music, CRE, PE (Physical Education – sports), Computer, etc. – is crystal clear.

It’s meant for each and every knowledge-seeker to explore all the subjects and eventually go after the one he or she likes the most, the one he or she is good at. One is allowed to do that upon completing high school.

In college or university, you specialize in it. And that’s why we have masons, architects, carpenters (Art and Craft), bankers (Commerce), geologists (Geograpghy), linguists (English, Literature), doctors (Sciences), farmers (Agriculture) and so on.

However, what I have noticed in us nowadays is something I can unapologetically describe as invidia. One chooses to pursue agriculture and he ends up becoming a successful farmer. He manages a big farm in the country….but now hates on a sister who has made it big in the world of sciences, an ophthalmologist. Come on! Isn’t what you decided to follow to the finish? Why then are you envious of your sister’s achievements?

Another brother fell for Home Science. He strived to be a chef…and of course he made it. He’s one of the best fifty chefs on earth. Surprisingly, he spends sleepness nights over news of his home-boy who has made it to the world stage as a poet. He’s insomniac, a self-caused health problem.

And there is a brother who never liked sitting in any class. He didn’t like Maths. He didn’t like English, geography. Actually, he didn’t like school. Teachers labelled him as an idiot. But he was so into PE. He liked basketball so much. He is now a serious player in the West. Again, some people, his own folks, talk shit of him. His closest relative, a writer, wrote crap about him on a blog the other day, that “I wish Osama Bin Laden could resurrect, hi-jack a plane and fly it in his mouth”.

What is all this hate for? I know to hate is human but this is no longer acceptable. Remember as educated young people, we have one enemy – our leaders. These aunties, uncles, mothers and fathers who’re unknowingly burying us alive are the only people we should be up against, not our brothers and sisters who are exceptionally successful in various fields.

In essence, we are equal. Do not be intimidated by other people’s careers because yours counts too. No matter what your profession is, take pride in it. Because if you do, you will be able to appreciate other people’s contributions in the building of our nascent country.

Let’s begin to celebrate each other’s successes. Let’s begin to cheer on our good brothers and sisters and on the other hand frown and – in good faith – correct those who go astray, politically, socially and situationally.

Tearz © 2014


By Tearz Ayuen, Juba

addistalks

MISTER PRESIDENT,

You must please citizens, not tribal representatives. At this critical time, you should work harder to stop the nation from falling apart, completely, by preventing a coup d’état, the real one, from happening. In reality, almost every South Sudanese is a passive rebel.

Should anyone decide to dethrone you today, Juba denizens, irrespective of ethnicity, could give up their lives in the name of new leadership because you are hors de combat. You’ve lost both arms and legs in the war, war against underdevelopment, against national disunity. You just cannot develop South Sudan. You cannot unite us. You cannot solve SPLM problems because you’re the problem. You no longer have what it takes to drive South Sudan forward. You piss off everyone, including your admirers. People are so weary of the things you do and do not do.

As a result of December 15 incident, thousands are dead, about a million are homeless, either in UN protection sites or in neighboring countries as international beggars, foreign investors have pulled out and the list goes on and on.

However, there is a room for redemption. You can redeem yourself, Mr President.

You should work to win many people as possible. Actually, people do not need much from you. You should simply pay your employees regularly, build roads, electrify Juba and beyond and inculcate, in your security apparatus, respect for civilians, pay soldiers regularly and work towards winning common man’s admiration, not of bush comrades.

Mr President, even after the crisis which is also deeply rooted in your inability to provide basic services to the people, you still do not pay your employees on time, even those wounded in battlefields. Civil servants waiiit for salaries. It’s so hurtful for a civil servant to see his or her colleague live lavishly when his family is starving. How does one continue to stand by a leader who doesn’t give a kcuf about the welfare of his supporters’ children? By supporters, I’m referring to teachers, university lecturers, doctors and nurses and everyone else on the government payroll.

As a young person, I don’t need financial aid from you to establish myself, neither do I have to be recruited by the Labor Ministry in order to settle; I simply need electricity. Running a business in this country is so costly. It’s made difficult by unavailability of electricity. With government power, I could set up a small business for myself. For example, barber shop, music shop or even a small bar.

pende ngong

Mr President, South Sudanese need road networks so badly. Not only are roads for movements of people from point A to B and vice versa, but also for goods. Due to bad roads, truck owners ask for more from traders who in turn increase food prices. Who is at the receiving end? – Your voters. In Juba, nobody is maintaining the roads. The tarred ones have developed potholes, fishponds.

Look at the beautiful Juba-Nimule road, the pride of South Sudan. It has been damaged by trucks but the concerned ministry has never thought of repairing it. In Juba, Yei road (from the National Security building to checkpoint) is an eyesore. Bad roads not only cause road accidents but they also destroy vehicles slowly by slowly.

An army is a very important arm of any government. Soldiers are a useful group of citizens in every country. They defend their country against external aggression (e.g. 2012 Heglig mini-war), internal disturbance like the current crisis. If it wasn’t for the loyal soldiers, you could not have been in Juba right now. Besides, I believe many ethnic Nuer soldiers defected not because they really like Dr Riek but because they felt your government wasn’t looking after them properly, it doesn’t care about soldiers. It is sad to be approached and begged by a loyal SPLA soldier: “Ya weledna saidu ana. Ena makelta min awel-umbari. Adini shuoya gurush. Shala gene bes.”

The bottom line is: loyalty is a soap; it wears out. Pay your soldiers, always. They have families to cater for. If you treat them well, they will all detach themselves from tribal affiliations…..and they will have undivided allegiance to you.

Mr President, anger builds up in each citizen in the country, particularly Juba. All this is aroused by members of security’s uncouth behaviors. The movement they discover you don’t belong in the ‘kingdom’, they pester you with screwed up questions on suspicion that you might be a rebel. They should know by now that all the rebels left Juba long time ago. Every Juba resident, be he or she a Nuer, Chollo, Bor or Bari, is not a rebel.

By the way, why do national intelligence agents drive numberless vehicles? How intelligent is that? Why do they sleep in five star hotels, in rooms marked “national intelligence guy, don’t disturb”. How intelligent is that? Why do they brag that they are the security guys in bars, weddings venues, funerals etc, how intelligent is that?

Finally, it’s better, Mr President, to be disliked by a bunch of five hundred thankless, corrupt, backstabbing bush comrades than to be wished death upon by nine million people who need nothing from you but schools, roads, clean drinking water, health services, security, power.

Tearz ©2014

DEAR NAATH (NUER) IN UN JUBA BASES

Posted: April 3, 2014 by PaanLuel Wël in Commentary, Featured Articles, Tearz Ayuen

By Tearz Ayuen, Juba

You have been sentenced to unspecified jail term and you do not know it. And the charge pressed against you by the government, your government, is innocence. You are guilty of nothing. You’ aren’t, in any way, party to the Dec 15 incident. You didn’t attack anyone. You didn’t kill anyone. You didn’t rebel against the government. You didn’t loot.

It’s been four months now since you fled to UNMISS compound. I understand why you had to leave your house in Gudele, New Site, Mia-7: the democide – the dreadful things you saw last December when the army extended an uncalled for hostility on you. I understand how you feel to lose a husband or brother. I acknowledge the pain you suffered, witnessing grand butchering of your beloved ones by ruthless soldiers. I feel you. I know they looted your valuables – furniture, TV sets, vehicles and so on.

Now, you and your fellow tribesmen are crammed in the UN compound where living conditions are so pathetic, so inhumane. You’ve lost your dignity. You and your children eat one meal per day. At times, they go to bed hungry. I understand rainstorm makes your life unbearable there. The makeshift tents are often blown away, leaving children unsheltered. With the rainy season approaching, an outbreak of cholera or of any other water-borne disease is imminent.

I believe you owe the UN your life for the protection they provided. You could have been killed if it wasn’t for the peacekeeping forces. However, I am sorry to say that the protection they are offering you is something else. I think they’ve commercialized it. Yes. Nobody amongst the ‘good Samaritans’ wants you to leave the camp. Why? – Because your presence there makes them more job secure.

This is why “The United Nations Mission in South Sudan (UNMISS) and other agencies have started relocating thousands of civilians sheltering in Tongpiny camp, UN protection of civilians area, to a new location at UN house in country’s capital Juba” – UN website, March 17, 2014.

Anyone who claims to be concerned about your welfare would work harder to ensure that you return home, and not prolong your stay at the compound.

So, my message is simple: Go back home. That lengthy stay at UN protection sites is a booby-trap. You cannot live a life of a pauper in your country, especially when your house is a mile away. Your children have to go back to school. Go home.

Unite as one people and walk out of that compound. Don’t even look for means of transport. Just march on the streets of Juba. Fear not. Let whoever wants to kill kill. After all, he or she would never extinct Nuer people. Never.

Tearz ©2014


DUK – BOR –TWI, YOU PEOPLE MAKE ME SICK

By Tearz Ayuen

I really don’t care about the Bor name issue. I don’t care about the nominal war boys and girls are slitting each other’s throat for on the web. I don’t care whether Twi and Duk people identify themselves with B-O-R or not. I don’t want to know whether Buor, Tuei and Duok were originally called Buor or not. Whoever claims he owns/disowns the name is least of my worries.

But what I care about is the situation on the ground. Since time immemorial, people of Twic East, Duk and Bor live peacefully in Bor and everywhere else the communities are on God’s good earth – Australia, Canada, US, Juba, East Africa, etc. They’re just brothers and sisters, good ones. They intermarry. They compete in wrestling tournaments, against each other; they dance to beats of one drum during traditional dances. They quarrel. They fight.

I know people of Bor, Duk and Twic East stand out, both linguistically and topographically. But I really don’t want to know how the two communities arrived at or parted from the name Bor in the first place. Who united them under Bor?

Why?

When?

However, what I care about is the situation they are in today. As you read this sentence, non-Dinka Jonglei refers to us as Bor Dinka. Yes, others may lay that claim on illiteracy, ignorance. That notion was conceived or intensified during the civil war, I think. Any Dinka from Jonglei was and is still called nyan-buor, Ting-buor, muony-bor or dhong-buor. Every time anything communal or tribal erupts, all Tuei, Duok and buor are dealt with irrespective of where or who they claimed/claim to be.

Look at the 1991 massacre; Dr. Riek and forces loyal to him never gave a fuck about who we claimed/claim to be. They slit throats of Buor Duok and Tuei alike. They never said: “Gare, don’t smash the head of that baby boy against tree trunk because he is not menh-buor”.

And never did they say: “Gare, let’s not attack this village because it is not within the territory of Twic East or Duk”.

Whenever Murle tribesmen go on a killing spree, they shoot at people indiscriminately.

Even today, whenever drunken brawls erupt, our brothers from Bhar el Ghazal will hit at any face so long as the causer comes from Dinka of Jonglei. Yeah, Barkazeel aye koch pe’eny amok, whether you say you’re from Bor east, west, center, north or south. They just don’t give a fuck.

By default, I presume, we have been united by problems we have faced as a people for so long. That’s a reality you and me are living.

Anyway, I often hear some people, Tuei specifically, complain about the name – that they are being forced into accepting the name Bor, that they are being robbed of their identity, that the name Bor is swallowing T-W-I.

If I may ask, and this goes to those who call themselves ‘Bor Asili’, who is holding Tuei at gunpoint, ordering them to be Buor?

Why is he or she doing so?

Again, another group of Tuei says Buor have robbed them of the Bor identity. Like Usain Bolt, they have snatched BOR and vanished into the unknown with it. “We are also Buor; why you say you’re the real Bor?”

Now, what is going on? Why are you confusing young people?

In conclusion, those who have been to school should not be the ones to drive wedges between people, giving birth to countless bunches of weaklings. Education should at least make us preach oneness. Education should help us educate our illiterate relatives about who the enemies and friends of the people of South Sudan are.

Our problem is the Government of the Republic of South Sudan, and that includes sons and daughters of Twic East, Duk and Bor.

Didn’t our elders, leaders, including Malok Ale’ng say that Bor is the land and it is inhabited by Hol, Nyarweng, Buor and Tuei?

So, why do we drink beer together, live together, fight against a common enemy together, crack jokes together, laugh at jokes together, eat from a dish together and etc. together BUT publish divisive articles on the internet?

Tearz ©2013

HIV/AIDS GNAWS SOUTH SUDAN

Posted: August 14, 2013 by PaanLuel Wël in Commentary, Featured Articles, Health, Tearz Ayuen

By Tearz Ayuen

I presume everyone knows that being the world’s newest state, South Sudan is faced with a number of challenges. But what everybody doesn’t know though is what exactly these challenges are and how they came or come about. Some of them are: Christianization—overdependence on others – both individual and national, grinding poverty and vitriolic tribal politicking. In this piece, I will focus on diseases, AIDS in particular.

AIDS is coming on all fronts and it is here to stay. It’s robbing the country of its good men, women and youth. It has already claimed many lives, and many people are living with it. Before, we had war widows and orphans. Now, we have HIV/AIDS widows and orphans. Well, how does this virus gain momentum in the world’s baby nation? The following are some of the plausible factors, causes, theories which possibly bespeak endemicity of the virus.

The first possible cause is depicted in the dialogue below. I don’t know what I should call it. Please be my guest: give it a title.

1. Freedom is not free

Mu’die: Wear your condom, Honey.
Paanriak: No, I don’t like wearing condom.
Mu’die: Why? It’s protective, Sweetie.
Paanriak: I know. Just let me eat you without a condom.
Mu’die: Never
Paanriak: Okay Okay….I will give you more money.
Mu’die: Over my dead body.
Paanriak: I will increase your demand by 100%.
Mu’die: No way.
Paanriak: Okay, 200%?
Mu’die: I said no. I’m putting my G-string back on.
Paanriak: Babe, please stay. I beg you.
Mu’die: Nope.
Paanriak: Okay, Okay, Okay, I will give you a thousand dollars.
Mu’die: You’re lying
Paanriak: I’m serious. Wait a minute.
(From a small black briefcase, he removes a bundle of 100-dollar bills).
Mu’die: Baby you’re rich (She purrs).
Paanriak: Look: one hundred, two hundred, three hundred, 4, 5, 6,7,8,9, one thousand.
Mu’die: Now come closer. (Mwaaaah)
Paanriak: (switches off the lights).

2. Breakdown of Societal Norms

With South Sudan now at peace, peoples of various cultural backgrounds are importing some practices – both bad and good. Acculturation is visibly driving out African traditional way of life here. It’s unstoppable. A notably inevitable foreign practice is courtship style. Love relationship.

Back in the day, the art of winning a girl’s heart was golden and revered. It was an important rite of passage. It would take a young man a very long long time to talk a girl into his betweens. That’s four to five years or so. Or two lovers would just abstain until marriage. This was meant to give lovers enough time to study one another, to know each other well.

A girl would die to know what kind of a man her groom-to-be is. Is he weak or strong? A coward or a brave one? Is he a son of a witch or respectable woman? Is his mother impeccable? Does he have siblings? Brothers and sisters? Is he a son of a poor man or of a wealthy one? What is his mother’s mother called? His father’s grandfather? Could we be related?

At least a girl would get to know more about her wooer before opening her thighs. Today, however, it takes a blink of an eye for a boy to make his new girlfriend read classical Arabic:

Monyjooth: How’re you, Halawa?
Nyanthuuk: Fine
(Believe it or not, this girl is in abnormal high-heels – the length of her leg).
Monyjooth: You look familiar. Haven’t we met before, Mrembo?
(They have never ever met in real life – but online, Facebook)
Nyanthuuk: I can’t remember (she blushes).
Monyjooth: It’s okay, Sweetie. Come and sit with me at my table.
Nyanthuuk: No, I am with my friends. I can’t leave them alone. There they’re on the dance floor.
Monyjooth: No, don’t worry about them. I won’t harm you.
Nyanthuuk: Okay. But just a few seconds only.
(They sit at a table. And the dude immediately barks orders at a nearby waitress. The girl makes her orders too. Minutes later, the waitress comes back with two bottles of Snapp and tots of Black Label. And an amorous conversation begins):

Monyjooth: Did you say you do not know me?
Nyanthuuk: Yes. But I’m not sure whether we’ve met before or not.
Monyjooth: Sure?
Nyanthuuk: Yes
Monyjooth: Sure?
Nyanthuuk: No, wait a minute. (With her mouth wide open) OMG! It’s you Johnnie. I didn’t expect to meet you in a place like this. I do like your Facebook updates. When did you arrive in this town?
Monyjooth: It’s been three days now. You know this place is so noisy. I can barely hear you. May we please go to some quieter place?
Nyanthuuk: No
Monyjooth: Come oooon!! We’ll be back quickly.
Nyanthuuk: No.
Monyjooth: Come on, my Queen (He stretches out his hand to hold hers. She accepts. Of course, No allegedly means Yes in the world of women. Allegedly).
(Off they vanish into darkness)

3. Drunkenness

Alcohol is a mysterious liquid. It makes wonders. Each wonder is manifested in each drunk. Depending on the level of intoxication, it makes one talk and talk and talk. Some talk sense, others talk nonsense. It makes others violent. Very wild. It makes others dull and boring.

It eroticizes others. This is the worst group. This type is the favorite target of the virus. After a few bottles of beer, one begins to see unseen things – naked women.

He begins to fall for any girl he lays his eyes on. He wants to talk to any girl in a club. If by any chance he initiates a talk with a loose broad, they end up bonking in an alley or parking lot.

4. Prostitution/Influx of sex workers

The 2005 Comprehensive Peace Agreement has attracted East Africa’s sexually independent women. They have come in all sizes, shapes and colors – fat, slim, light-skinned, short, tall, etc. they had to abandon Kampala’s Kabalagala area and Koinange street in Nairobi for South Sudan’s sex-starved men. They operate in illegally legal brothels in Jebel, Gumbo, Konyo-konyo and other markets in Juba. Their clients are majorly soldiers, businessmen and visiting cattle herders.

Soldiers normally live apart from their wives. This makes some of them give in to strong sexual desires by visiting those places. I don’t have an idea why many young cattlemen travel all the way from camps to sleep with these sex workers. Could it be the craving for brown skin? Or is it failure to endure romantically torturous traditional love relationships in which men wait for centuries before tasting the forbidden fruit.

5. Polygamy

Polygamy is reportedly good. Marry many wives. Beget many children. Gain respect and prestige. But with resource scarcity today, coupled with need for every wife to be satisfied romantically, sexually disgruntled wives tend to seek sexual diet somewhere else. This also makes bad men sleep in hotels with hawkers, knowing that each wife thinks he is in one of her co-wives’ house.

In conclusion,
When we were younger, silly and stupid, teachers tried their best to educate us about the dangers of pre-marital sex – mostly Aids. They tried everything, including some biblical scriptures. Fornication and stuff. They also talked about ABCs of HIV: Abstain, Be faithful to one an unaffected partner and Consistent use of condom.

In secondary school, my teacher, an ecclesiastical dude named Mwangi – in a bid to discourage me and my peers from running after female schoolmates and from contracting HIV, said: “If you want to survive adolescence, if you want to celebrate your 40th birthday, assume that every girl there is in this school is living with the Virus.” Mr. Mwangi please!

However, none of those pieces of advice was heeded. We still ran after girls, both in school and outside. We hardly used condoms. I remember the only time we put it on was when one thought of pregnancy and everything else that it brings forth – beating (What do you know about being kicked in the ribs with Timberland boots, by your lover’s brothers and male cousins?), early fatherhood. What helped and still helps us is our minds. We wear condom in the mind.

So, I would urge every single South Sudanese to not put condom on his phallus but his mind. Mind. And I mean to say: Since it is hard, almost impossible, to heed HIV-related advice, go on dipping your thingy into any hole but make sure your mind wears a condom. I said Mental Condom. Mental condom.

Tearz © 2013

I, President Kiir, Seek a Protégé

Posted: April 14, 2013 by PaanLuel Wël in Tearz Ayuen

I, President Kiir, Seek a Protégé
Typed by: Tearz Ayuen

I President Salva Kiir Mayardit must say enough is enough. It’s about time I do the right thing – get out of the way. I will explain that shortly. First of all, know that I am speaking to you in this piece as a citizen. Forget about the Lt. General in me. Don’t even think about my position as the President. This is the real me, the son of a Fishing Spear – Salva Kiir Mayardit, Kuethpiny.

Yes I have to edge out of the way, along with my comrades. The spirit of a true soldier, a freedom fighter, has finally dawned on me. When I joined the liberation struggle over three decades ago, I did it for the right cause. I wanted South Sudanese to be whatever they wanted to be – Christians, Moslems, Buddhists or even devil-worshippers.

I was up against the systematic abuses meted out against them by the successive suppressive Khartoum governments. I fought day and night. Unlike some of my peers, I never looked back. Bush was my home, for years. Alongside my fellow freedom fighters, I fought fearlessly, tirelessly.

Yet I expected nothing in return. My actions were all sacrificial. So were my comrades’. We never dreamt about salaries. We never expected things like V-8s. We never thought about the lavish lifestyle we are living right now.

We never wanted to be rulers after the war. No, that was not part of our plan. I didn’t want to be a payam administrator, leave alone being a president.

As you may know, not everything goes according to plan. I am the President of South Sudan by default. I never wished to lead. The seat issue caught me off-guard. John Garang’s death created a power vacuum. With the Generals choking with power-greed, a controversy arose over the throne. Every high-ranking SPLA official, except me, wanted to be the one.

But as fate would have it, the volatile region wanted a cool, calm and humble leader. Southern Sudan wanted a peace-maker leader. This made some influential but wise Generals force me onto the throne.

The decisions I have made, the actions I have taken for the last eight and half years proved those generals right. President Bashir has tried and is still trying harder to make me wage war against his country, in vain, simply because of my cool nature. I simply brush off his war-provoking actions and statements.

Some of my peers have tried to sow seeds of discord amongst South Sudanese citizens but because of the cool me, I break the backbone of the divisiveness by doing what I am not going to tell you in this write up.

I have been called names by everyone including children. Boys and girls post insulting and defamatory articles about me on the internet. But I take it easy. All I say is: Lord, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing.

Even my comrades, those whom I suffered with in the bush unwittingly took up arms against my administration and ironically butchered the same people they liberated. I liken them to a father who fathers five children and wakes up one morning to slaughter them.

This unnecessary armed opposition is clearly meant to taint the image of my young government.

Others, the ones I entrusted with my powers, those I thought would assist me raise South Sudan to the world standards have shamelessly ungratefully institutionalized bad governance. They steal public funds. They like money but shun work. Everyone wants to fly to Nairobi, Dubai or Europe for flu treatment.

As a result, I have decided to rid the government of the freedom fighters turned looters. Yes I am decided. I want to replace them with vibrant youth. Youth because my generation does not fit in this era, particularly governing. These are modern times. All world governments have gone digital, technological. This, itself, disqualifies us.

Just drop by the Ministries. Visit the Immigration department in Juba-dit. The old men have been chased away by the new technology. They can’t handle any work involving computers. Young people have taken over. All the old ones do is sign documents.

This rings a bell. Corruption, ineptness and technological incapacitation are enough reasons to retire my age mates.
This is how we will go about it: South Sudanese youth all over the world must converge to bring their representative. The young person must be a highly educated one. He must be strictly between the ages of 30 and 35, someone who is eloquent, exposed, humble, honest, detribalized and preferably a non-Dinka.

He or she must be conversant with the political, social and economic affairs of South Sudan, both the past and the present. More importantly, he mustn’t be an SPLM supporter. A teetotaler too.

This is because a 30-year old is too young to have relationships with the corrupt old guys. The same with the ruling party; SPLM means impunity, corruption. If he or she comes from the SPLM, old bad guys will always want to stick their noses into his affairs in many ways.

I believe in meritocracy but I strongly believe that a non-Dinka would play a vital role in national healing process. Don’t get me wrong. A non-Dinka president would heal the scariest wounds of the past which seem to dog the present.

One of them is the born-to-rule adage. I often hear about it. Since the agents of divide have successfully drummed it into the heads of many South Sudanese, mostly the semi-literates, I believe helping an Acholi, a Bari, a Lokorong, a Balanda or an Anyuak become the next president would nullify such a bad politics.

Another wound is: people always say that the Dinka people always say they will run the country until the end of time just because they sacrificed a lot during the civil war – that they died in big numbers- millions, and now is the payback time. I think it is not true. It is meant to indoctrinate the Dinka against the other tribes. Bringing up a Madi or a Jur Beli would put such people to shame.

Why a teetotaler? – A drunken head of state is susceptible to numerous grave mistakes. Bad people, mostly his or her relatives or friends, tend to lure him into signing dubious documents under the influence of alcohol. I am not speaking from experience but that is a fact, a proven one.

With the 2015 general elections in mind, I will work with the young candidate. I will help the young man or woman found a political party to contest against the frail SPLM. And I am counting on the youth to campaign for the new party and vote overwhelmingly for him or her.

If he or she wins and of course it must, youth will also help appoint qualified South Sudanese as members of his cabinet.
If the ‘baby’ president wishes, some of us, very few, will remain in the government but as advisors only.

I know Vice President Riek is itching to be the next president but don’t worry about him. I will convince him. I will talk him out of the whole idea. I also acknowledge how hard, almost impossible for him to stand down but still, there is nothing impossible.

He himself should know without being told that to be the second most powerful man in the land is itself enough to go for the last top place. We’re two faces of the same coin. If I’ve failed, he has failed. If I have achieved something, he also has.

In fact, he has handled a number of national issues a lot more than I have. If he still itches to lead, then pride must be the only force driving his quest – pride and prestige, the things South Sudan does not need right now.

So, my dearest youth, find me a young person that fits in the above descriptions. You have a couple of months.

Tearz©2013

Bleaching is Prostitution

Posted: February 25, 2013 by PaanLuel Wël in Tearz Ayuen

By Tearz Ayuen

It is inarguable that girls or women who bleach skin are those that are suffering from low self-esteem. They are cheap. So cheap.

Cheap females are those who always want to please every man, any man. Frog man. Hyena man. They always want to be said to be beautiful even when they are not. They flash a smile at any man, any time. Anywhere.

They are gullible. The word NO does not exist in their dictionary. They take anything placed before them. They don’t question; they never scrutinize. That is why they believe that, to be considered beautiful, one must be light-skinned or purely white.

They are not contented with what they are, who they are. If you are not comfortable in your own skin, if you don’t appreciate the skin color the creator gave you, one of the elements you are identified with – to an extent of arming yourself with chemicals to terrorize it, then you are insane. You’re sick. Seek a psychiatrist.

It is an indirect message that you are a trash, a bin. Anybody can use you as a dump site. You lose respect.

Be informed, beauty is never determined by the color of skin. What counts is the physique; face, eye size, legs, waist, dental formula, mouth size, etc. You may be as white as an Irish but if you have feet that look like those of a goat and a face that looks like a chicken’s, never shall you be seen as beautiful. Never.

“Skin terrorists” may not be prostitutes in your city but in mine, they are. My city is Juba. Wherever they come from, whatever school they went to in Kenya, Uganda, Sudan or Egypt, the school motto must have been “Bleach, Attract Men, Make Money.” Nothing else.

I am not referring to nationals of the aforementioned countries; I am talking about South Sudanese young girls, prostitutes. Let’s call them Lolitas. 

In school, they never took learning seriously. They were there for prestige, for fun. “Oh I am in St. this. Oh I’m in St. that.” That’s it. All they focused on was boy-girl relationship. They spent most of their time practicing the contents of Mexican soap operas. 

After four years of doing nothing in high school, they graduate with Es. Some do not even graduate. They just drop out.
While at home (Eldoret, Nakuru, Nairobi, Kampala. Etc), they hear of interesting stories about Juba. They begin to understand the meaning of a diva, the importance of financial independence – independent woman.

They get to know about “mur-dih.” Murdih is Dinka for vagina, my vagina. In this context, it means a car. A car gotten through sex money.

After getting all these ideas, they move to Juba where they launch “Operation Buy Mur-dih.” OBM in short. It involves a lot of things. Name change is the first thing they put into practice. Followed by skin lightening. The looks of other body organs are also changed, temporarily.

Let’s talk about breasts. After years of playing sex game with niggas, the chest becomes flat again. They are called folded chapattis. And to attract those rich sex maniacs in Juba, a girl resorts to redesigning her bust. She manages that with the help of sponge and bra. She pushes those useless teats up the throat, making breathing difficult. She be choking herself. That’s why when she finally arrives in her Tukul during wee morning hours, she unties the load and says, under her breath: “Uh thank you, Lord. At least I can breathe again, with ease.”

The name change idea is aimed at confusing men. Today, she introduces herself as Angelina Jolie. Tomorrow she is Nicki Minaj. Yesterday she was Keyshia Cole.

You should see them in night clubs hunting men, stalking them. From one social place to another, they move in groups of twos or threes. You barely see them remove cash from their handbags. I don’t know why but I think they never have enough money to spend on drinks as they spend the little they get on hairdo, foods and cosmetics.

The smart ones do not roam the night aimlessly; they await deals from rich men who call them up to show up in private posh hotel rooms in town.

The other group which comprises of woman – single mothers – gatecrashes big government functions, cocktail parties. You can never fail to notice them. They are the loud ones. With “Bakur” smeared all over the body, one can never part without asking for her number. That scent is so tempting, brother.

Besides the self-degrading act, apart from the mental slavery they portray, bleaching brings about a lot of side effects. It weakens the skin. It makes it vulnerable to a number of first class diseases. Cancer tops the list. You know what that means. 

According to medical research, skin terrorists also develop increased appetite. Just imagine that. Who would want to get married to an avaricious girl? A gluttonous food-loving woman in this bad economy? The one who goes to KFC and buys chicken in bulk, goes home and eats it up in the bedroom? 

Bareness is another side effect of bleaching. How many barren young women do you know of today? – A lot, I guess. Try and memorize if they ever used creams.

Finally, bleaching is another way of supporting science projects run by inhumane greedy American and European scientists. Look, one man manufactures the cream. A woman buys and uses it. After some times, the cream gives birth to cancer. Then another man goes on TV and says he’s got the cure for cancer. Now, you move from hospital to hospital looking for affordable drugs. All you do is buying. Do you see the trap you get yourself into? 

Tearz©2013

YOUR RIVER, MY RIVER

Posted: December 28, 2012 by PaanLuel Wël in Poems., Tearz Ayuen

I have a riddle; here is a riddle for you to crack. One River has outgrown itself and customized into two different species–Your River and My River. If Your River is called Iteru; what is My River? 

By Tearz Ayuen

—————

Your river is perpetual,

It’s older than time itself

Mine is a passer-by,

It’s a passing wind

Your river is long

Mine is tall

 ————–

Yours has no oculi but it sees

Mine has a pair but it sees not

 —————

Your river flows

Mine walks

Yours is filled with colorless liquid

Mine with reddish liquid

————-

Your river ripples

Mine squelches

————–

Your river kills

Mine too

Yours drowns

Mine executes

—————

Your river is home to crocodiles, Chironex fleckeri

Mine shelters unintelligence, ignorance and thievery

Generous is your river,

A million lives depend on it

————

So selfish is mine,

It cares for selected few

Your river is called Iteru

Mine is called………..?

Tearz Ayuen ©2012


In case someone might have the slightest inclination that Tearz Ayuen is somehow retreating fast from the battlefield following the assassination of Isaiah Abraham, let him/her be informed that it is “hell no”, to use his language. His is the unfortunate case of the proverbial hand that feed you refusing to entertain your mere presence on the World Wide Net, whatsoever the form of your appearance, lest the feeding is withheld. The battlefield is indeed in the kitchen and the kitchenware plus the food stores risk being collateralized in the process. To quit or not to quit was the dilemma. The “Last Update” unveiled the decision, lest all would have been left wondering what had become of Tearz Ayuen and his fiery but entertaining writings!! We shall all miss you Tearz of Ayuen; rest in waiting my dearest friend!!!—PaanLuel Wel

Good Bye: My Last Update – By Tearz Ayuen

It’s been long since I last posted a line or article here. You must be wondering why, I guess. You know the death of my brother in authorship—R.I.P Isaiah Abraham—has implications on each and every writer and maybe reporters of South Sudan.

Well, as both a writer and reporter, my name has been ‘corrupted.’ I don’t know how I can explain that but look: most writers are currently at war, intellectual war, with the government; very dramatic and interesting war. When I chose to take part in this war, I knew exactly what it would cost me, now and tomorrow. I weighed its pros and cons. However, there is a little problem here and I phrase it this way: a war that is fought at one’s backyard or in one’s kitchen is an unfair war. Even if the warrior wins, it’s unfair because his food store and kitchenware eventually get destroyed in the battle. That’s it.

The bottom line is, I can’t have my articles published by any newspaper or website. I also can’t post anything concerning South Sudanese affairs on my Facebook wall. All I am allowed to write on my wall are high-schoolish updates like: “I am going to the gym, I love my girlfriend, I am bored: someone please call me, look at my new shoes, I got drunk last night. Oh I am constipated.” I feel I’m too old for all of that.

I’m not saying I have quit fighting, writing. No. I can’t, I won’t. You know in every sound critic, there’s a force that drives him or her. That force is powered by qualities such as humanitarianism, impartiality and etc. Those qualities are in me. But I am a writer by choice. That means a lot. I can change my mind and write about apolitical issues but I just can’t because I feel I’m one of the chosen few tasked with shading light on issues that impact on the lives of 8 million plus South Sudanese. In other words, I am a waker. I wake up sleeping dogs. I don’t know who or what chose me though.

As I prepare a ‘new and better battlefield,’ I would love my ‘well-placed’ fellow writers to keep the fire burning. Write every day, every night. Write, write and write until you fall asleep. And remember, a good warrior is the one who aims at his target first before pulling a trigger. Writing against the government is too general and wasteful. It’s no good. No one amongst the stewards will take a bullet shot at the government if you just say the government is corrupt, the government has lost focus, the government has done this and that. So, for your work to hold weight, for your criticism to bear fruits, write about individuals. In writing, frog-march them, pull them by the ear.

For those who look at writers at a different angle, please free yourself of the notion that we criticize the government or individual civil servants simply because we are covetous – that we ourselves want to be on their thrones. Hell no! Our affair with the government is a parent-child relationship. A parent spanks its child not necessarily because he or she wants to be the child but because he wants to shape it to be an upright person in the future.

Besides, forget the idea that these powerful people are untouchable – that we should not talk about them, write about them, mention their names in conversations. You’re wrong, my friend. They are not immune to criticism. This is because they represent people. They live on taxes raised by the citizens. They are elected to power by the people. If writers and human rights groups stop criticizing members of parliament, ministers, governors, the police and army heads, the president and many others, “adeka biup abi pe’el koc gup.”

Happy Christmas, my friend.

Tears©2012

Tearz Travel Advice

Posted: November 25, 2012 by PaanLuel Wël in Junub Sudan, Opinion Articles, South Sudanese Diaspora, Tearz Ayuen
Tags: ,

By Tearz Ayuen

Dear Diaspora,

As Christmas season tiptoes in, I would love to advise those who are planning to spend the happy holiday with relatives and old friends in South Sudan. Call it Tearz Travel Advice or TTA in short. But remember, this is not mandatory, it is recommendatory. You have what it takes to take it or leave it.

You must have read or heard from friends that the baby country is growing except that it is developing at a speed of a snail. No, I am sorry I lied. Snail is faster than the speed at which development is moving in this country. This is because your, no, I mean our uncles and aunts are squandering the monies that come from oil revenues and sympathizers like the European Union and Unites States, amongst others.

When you touch down at Juba International Airport, your sensors will quickly notify you that you’re in a strange place. High humidity is the first thing that will say to you, “hello, welcome to Juba my long lost friend.” Your skin will not like the new condition, hence you will leak. English people call it sweating. The airport is a bit disorganized. Non-travelers walk in and out of the immigration sector. You can, for whatever reason, choose to bypass the immigration desk, depending on your body features.

By the time you walk out of the terminal, your outfit will have soaked from sweat. From the airport, you will either head home or straight to a hotel, depending on the size of your purse or the protrusion of your belly.

Hotel

Hotels are very expensive. Accommodation costs over 100$ per night. Despite the fact that Juba hotels are not up to the western standards, they are somewhat decent. Each room has that device which dehumidifies the air. There is a water shower, clean tiled-floor, comfy king-size bed and fan, TV set and a fridge. However, I would urge you not to eat from those hotels. Most of the foods they offer are those that have overstayed in fridges. Nutritional value is gone. No taste at all.  By the way, after spending a very long period of time away from South Sudan, what would stop you from mingling with Jubans in local restaurants where you can find kisra, korob-lubia, asida made from cassava, awal-wala served with fermented milk, akop, dried fish and original fresh Tilapia or Nile Perch from the Nile River?

Modern Home

For my friend who will take a taxi home, welcome to Juba, buddy. This is where you will experience most of the things you heard about South Sudan. And if you’re a keen observer, your stay at uncle’s place could give you an idea about the root cause of corruption. If your uncle is a senior civil servant, you are safe. However, the only problem you will face is overcrowding. No privacy. Most rich government officials’ homes which I apologetically call mini-refugee camps are ever overcrowded, making life a bit uneasy. Nieces, nephews, uncles, in-laws, friends, bodyguards and many others are the occupants. Some come from as far as Nairobi, Kampala, and villages to seek financial aid from one man – the uncle. “This boy needs school fees; that one needs to travel outside the country for a surgery. This woman wants to go back to her children in the village. That one over there seated on a mat arrived last night. They are all waiting for one man’s salary, my salary,” a minister once said. And on payday, the big man distributes his salary to them, and both painfully and annoyingly enough, another hungrier contingent of relatives comes and camps. When it goes, another group arrives.  The most annoying thing is that they carry their own mattresses, bed sheets and mosquito nets. That gives an uncle no room for lame excuses like “oh my house is congested, oh blah blah blah.”

Life in a Tukul

For my buddy who may wish to have fun with friends in normal homes, ready yourself for some real fun. No electricity. No running water. No toilets. At night, mosquitoes rule. They make nights long and unbearable. They tax people; taxation is in form of blood.  If you’re lucky enough, you may find a pit latrine in your host’s compound. But please, always carry pieces of toilet paper in your pocket. It helps. In case you choose to ignore me, you stand a risk of scratching your buttocks with a twig. You were warned.

If your host lives in a place like Lubas-mafi or Rujal-mafi and doesn’t have a latrine, expect the unexpected. This means you will be forced to relieve yourself at a neighbor’s.  Using a neighbor’s latrine is not a problem because South Sudanese are still generous. The issue is traffic. In Juba, many home owners consider latrine a luxury. A family of about ten members defecates in the nearby bushes or open grounds. That means when one man builds one for his family, all the neighboring homes will use it. So, to use such a latrine, you must queue up, particularly during morning hours. When you finally make it in, you could find something unusual.  You are likely to find fecal landmines on the slap. This means some girls used the latrine earlier. There is a belief in Juba that girls do not squat on the pit latrine lest they become barren. So, they plant a lot of fecal landmines on the floor. And some men do not flush down their excretions. They leave that thing swimming simply because of the I-am-not-the-cleaner mentality, I hear.

Your Foreign Currency/Exchange

In here, the cart goes before the horse. The important Central Bank of South Sudan is impotent. Exchange rate is being controlled by cattle keepers. Isn’t that weird? They decide when the pound rises or drops. Right now, the official dollar rate is 2.9 pounds per dollar. While in the black market; with one dollar, you get 4.2 pounds. Unconfirmed reports say the dollar business run by the cattle keepers is a big scandal. The herders are mere agents. Their bosses are in the government. And that’s why the Juba City Council finds it hard to rid the city of them. Its efforts to arrest these official law breakers are thwarted by powerful anonymous caller who instructs the police to stop “harassing innocent civilians.”

Some of these cattle keepers turned money exchangers are conmen. I call them dollar-rustlers. They possess counterfeit money, both pounds and dollars. Always take precautions. If possible, choose one of them and let him hop in a car you’re riding in. With the help of your cousin or a friend, exchange your dollars. They operate in tree shades, at market places. In case you show up at their place, alone, they will pretend to be cross checking the genuineness of your notes. One dude holds it up to the light and feels it with his fingertips. He passes it on to another dude who does the same thing.  By the time it comes back to you, it will have passed through hands of about ten dollar-rustlers. Guess what happens? The one that comes back to you is a fake dollar bill. This is when they begin to reduce the rate and if you don’t agree to it, they ask you to leave.

Generally,

Juba is fun. It’s the place to be during December holidays. Lots and lots of fun; all day all night – The social places, the party-goers, everything. However, things are a bit more different here.  That means there are some things, habits that you need to leave behind:

Dress Code

And this goes to girls. I know you are used to doing things the western way. That’s fine. It’s your life, your choice. You’re notorious for not wearing enough clothes – extremely provocative outfits: quarter-skirts (not mini- anymore) and string-like underpants. Some of you don’t even wear underwear anymore. Others don tight and transparent bra-less tops that show nipples. That’s cool. Some of us like that. But the problem is, when you dress up like that for a night party here, others, in fact, many, will think that you’re a call girl. Not to mention how South Sudanese men behave when drunk, they would want to grab you by any part of you, teats first. What do you think would happen to that social place should your male friends or brothers react? – A flying-bottle teeth-removal jaw-breaking zone, right? That’s one.

Two, there has been reports about Juba Police harassing urbane young females over dress code, especially those who wear tight jeans and quarter-skirts. Though it’s not a legal thing to do, a small unit of police officers could anytime any day decide to ‘teach’ young people how to dress properly. They normally stop them, confiscate the attires and drive off. Guess who is standing by the roadside naked, on Christmas Day? – You! I have nothing much to say to you here but I would urge you to always carry extra clothes – skirts, long ones – in your handbag.

Accent

The way you speak English here matters a lot. Members of diaspora have lost lives to accent in the recent past. You know very well that the 21-year civil war has disadvantaged a big number of us. This has made it so hard for some people to see you as a brother or sister. They feel intimidated, overlooked. So, when you speak that Youknowwhuramsayin accent while talking to police officers: “Hey worrap, maan? I jas came from the Unai stet, maan. I am from Coloraro, man. Coloraro. It’s a gu place, man. Aaight,” someone might mistake that for conceit – that you’re bragging about your academic acquisitions and maybe better life. If you are not careful enough, your ribs or chest could be the perfect destination of flying blows, kicks and gun butts. Guess the aftermath of this encounter with the police, and make sure your guesswork is not far away from serious internal injuries, deformation and death. Since you were neither born in the United States, Australia, Canada nor Europe, why can’t you just speak in a normal way? If I were you, I would even speak our broken English: “Hawar you, polith opither? Yeth ah yam prom Thouth Thudan. My name will be Jamith Deng. I am beri hepi por being home again.” Would that hurt or cost you a dime? Good luck.

 

 


By Tearz Ayuen

I read your press release in which you’re calling for immediate release of your chairman, Peter Tut Hoth and SPLA Major General Simon Gatwec Dual who got detained by the alleged Dinka security agents recently. In the press release, you also urge every Nuer in the government to resign from Salva Kiir’s government. That is interesting! You even ‘de-nuered’ the SPLA Chief of General Staff, James Hoth Mai for having not supported your ‘cause’. He must be thinking himself to death now, trying to figure out which tribe to relocate to.  And whether there is any tribe willing to welcome him. Oh poor Mai!

Anyway,

What is Nuer Youth Executive?

Is it a political party?

Or is it a civil society organization?

What are its goals?

When was it formed?

Does the government recognize it?

What does it intend to achieve in the next 2 years, 3 years, 5 years or 10 years?

Where is it headquartered? –  Its physical address?

Who funds your projects?

There is something I don’t understand here. Your chairman was detained by the government, the very government a Nuer son is the second most powerful man. Besides, hundreds of Nuer sons are holding strategic positions in the government. So, what makes you think that the Dinka, the whole tribe of about 4 million people, is behind the arrest of Tut? If the Dinka government was picking on Nuer youth at random, why didn’t the military intelligence pick Lam Tungwar or Manasseh Mathiang or any other Nuer youth? Why Peter Tut?

I am not sure if you are aware that there is a government, a democratically elected government that is running the affairs of South Sudan, with the help of a constitution. They call it South Sudan Transitional Constitution. It contains rules and regulations that guide the activities of the government and the citizens. As a youth group of today, you cannot call for a release of an individual the government is holding over some sort of a crime. It’s illegal. If you do, others will regard you as a tribal head. And you do not respect the constitution. But you can pressure the government to speed up the judicial process: trial, hearing. And that is if you’re a registered institution. Yes, threatening the authorities to release ‘criminals’ is a guerrilla-war-era way of tackling issues of public concern, and is a bad idea at these critical times. Keep in mind that I am not saying Tut is guilty of whatever the government has accused him of, but I am just encouraging you to go it the proper channel.

Again, I am not saying you’re an illegitimate group but I am afraid, I doubt your legitimacy. If you’re a registered body of whatever kind and the government knows you, why do you tribalize the arrest of Tut to an extent of asking members of Nuer community to leave the government? Here is a secret. You are not the only youth group that does not like the way the government is managing the affairs of South Sudan. The youth have a common enemy – the ruling SPLM party which is made up of our aunts and uncles. Don’t you think it is about time every young South Sudanese ceases being a kuku, Murle or Anyuak?

Millions of youth are yearning for a change. Why can’t you join hands for a bigger, stronger and smarter body that could act as a mouthpiece for all the young people in the country?

You have a beautiful name though– Nuer Youth Executive Council!

Yours sincerely,

Your brother from another tribe called South Sudan.

 

 

Mabior Garang de Mabior

Posted: September 17, 2012 by PaanLuel Wël in Junub Sudan, Opinion Articles, Tearz Ayuen

Tearz Ayuen

I am both sad and remorseful that I have to write this piece in response to what some South Sudanese are thinking, saying and writing about the son of Late Dr. John Garang. I am sad because I hate to meddle in issues that are somehow tribal, clan-based, sectional or regional. I am also sad because South Sudanese, both illiterate and literate, men and women or young and old, do not look at the message, but concentrate on the origin of the messenger, of which they base their responses on.  That habit is typical of South Sudanese. So sad.

In addition, I am sad not because I am going to take sides on this particular issue but because I really didn’t want to register my name on the list of issues thousands, if not millions, regard as us-against-them.

However, here is a point to keep in mind: I do not know Mabior Garang in person. I don’t know anything about his private life. I am not friends with him. We are not relatives either.  And I don’t even intend to create any sort of relationship or friendship with him. In short, I am neither seeking favors from, nor friendship with either Mabioor or any member of his immediate, extended or clannish family.

More importantly, I never wished any of Garang’s children get involved in political affairs of South Sudan. I even made fun of them the other day on the social media—Facebook that: If I were Mama Rebecca Nyandeng or John Garang’s son, I’d stay out of politics forever. I would constantly run away from anything political. In fact, I’d buy myself some new pair of Nike athletic shoes and shorts, and always keep them close to me just in case I see politics coming, I’d tighten the laces and outrun the thing.

I have a million reasons as to why but I prefer keeping them to myself.

Anyway, here is the point. Following the publication of the Alan-Mabior  interview in which Mabior pointed out a lot of the criticizable weaknesses in President Kiir-led ‘thumb-less’ government, South Sudanese (should I say) of all walks of life digested the message in different ways, depending on ‘educational upbringing,’ birthplace, level of civilizedness and state of mind. Many people welcomed the message and cheered him on. Others got angered by the words and began to speak ill of Mabior. They even went extra miles to invade his privacy; that, ooh, Mabior is an alcoholic, ooh, he is irresponsible; all in an attempt to hurt him, and eventually discouraging him from speaking his mind on national matters.

Simon Peter, some citizen who, according to his writing, got annoyed by Mabior’s move wrote on South Sudan Nation.com website: “….they’ve broken your jaws, next time they’ll break your neck! But what you don’t know comrade is that what’s posted isn’t expected from you… Who cares to listen to a drunkard who masters only drinking?”

OMG! What a beautiful way of silencing dissidence!

Simon Peter contradicts himself here. He wonders who cares about the drunkard, forgetting that he himself is the answer to his question. He forgets that he cares much more than anyone else and that’s why Mabior’s utterances made his blood clot. Simon Peter and his crew have also forgotten that no one is perfect. Each and every public figure or, say, a government official, has a ‘smelly’ background, either past or present. But still, they hold public positions. What counts is how he or she delivers, performs, etc.

For example, some of our current leaders indulge themselves in uncouth practices unexpected of them, including having love affairs with young girls. Others are good at habitual drunkenness, stealing, ineptitude, arrogance etc.

And most of our leaders have failed to bring up their children the way they should have. They have no control over them. Some of these children rarely attend classes. They are wild and untamable. They spend a lot of time running around, ‘showing off’ in East African cities and beyond. They go clubbing 24/7, fighting, causing havocs in clubs and almost everywhere they go. Others even confront traffic police officers for being pulled over yet they are children of ‘big men’ in South Sudan. “You silly cop, are you new in this city or what? Didn’t you see the number plate, CES, uh?” One scolded an officer the other day. Now if the father of such a young man can’t control him, is he fit to govern 8 million people, hold public post? Is he or she worth the leadership?

But we understand and separate their rotten sides from the good sides and continue to adore and respect them as our leaders—good ones. We pray for them every time they fall in. We always converge at Freedom Squares – during public functions, in the scotching sun, with empty stomachs and dry lips – to listen to what they have to say. We give them rounds of applause every time they speak; out of love, we clap our hands and shout out their names even when actually they have said nothing.  You can call that unconditional admiration.

Another group even misinterpreted Mabior’s message and labeled him as an opposition against President Kiir. A South Sudanese writer, Ateny Wek, wrote:  ”…the eldest son of our late great leader Dr. John Garang de Mabior announced his accidental move to oppose the government of his father’s successor General Salva Kiir Mayardit – a move seen by political experts to have landed a blow on the government of the world’ newest nation….”

Oh boy! Someone is trembling, sweating.

I don’t remember any line in the interview that shows Mabior intends to vie for an elective government position. Nor does he say he eyes Kiir’s seat.

Majority of South Sudanese know that Kiir is a weak leader (courtesy of his softness), but Mabior does not and cannot appear in the list of those who could replace him anytime soon. Even if Mabior was to stand against Kiir in a million presidential elections, Kiir would still emerge the winner a million times. The reason being, Mabior lacks the zero point five-kilo leadership experience President Kiir has. So, why panicking?

Mabior-Kiir’s case is simple, and it even gets simpler when one removes the ethnic eyeglasses. Mabior clearly and frequently says that he grew up knowing Salva Kiir as his uncle and he still respects and treats him the same way. They are still a family. All in all, Mabior’s mother is part of the leaning democratic government. Whatever decision Kiir makes, be it good or bad, Mama Nyandeng goes home with her share. But these are national affairs. Any citizen with a sound mind can say anything about the affairs without having to be an opposition figure so long as he or she presents the criticism correctly.

Look at it this way: when you’re a bad man, who mistreats and batters your wife every single night, and your teen son gets fed up with it and he gets up, with his fists tightened and as hard as steel, says it to your face that you must stop beating his mother lest he shows you his true colors; will you conclude that the son behaved that way because he wants to replace you? That he wants to snatch your wife who happens to be his mother? South Sudanese please!

There is a difference between Deng Athuai and Lam Akol.  For Christ’s sake, who cannot notice such a difference with reading glasses off?!

On the other hand, this is 21st century. No more intimidation and harassment of watch dogs. No more killing of truth sayers. Any leader who cannot deliver and cannot tolerate criticism is unfit for leadership. He or she must pack his belongings and catch a bus home to rear chickens, goats or cows, depending on what part of the country his village is located.

Just like any other young South Sudanese that gets nauseated by Kiir’s ‘one-legged’ government, Mabior is being an activist. He just pointed out why Salva Kiir ‘limps.’ It should not be magnified, misinterpreted, tribalized and used to divide South Sudanese, ‘Bor and Bahr el Ghazal Dinka’ in particular.  It should not be used to endear selves to those in power. Salva Kiir is a democratically-elected leader, remember. That means he is open to criticism, especially from those who voted him in. Attacking, in whatever form, those who criticize him is undemocratic and Neanderthal. Besides, not only is publicizing someone’s privacy – just like what Ateny Wek and Simon Peter did – unprofessional but it is also a deliberate abuse of ‘pen.’ My learned friend, Ngor Deng has lexicalized a word that I believe can describe such a practice. He calls it ‘illiterate literacy.’

Mister Ateny even went on to warn South Sudanese against expecting anything from Mabior: “…he is not even 1000 miles near his father in term of political and academic talent. So, unlike Jesus in the gospel South Sudanese must not see Mabior as second John Garang in waiting.”

Political and academic talent? Oh really? Since when did highly sophisticated scholastic acquisition begin to matter in South Sudan’s political setting? Among all the government officials, including H.E President of the Republic of South Sudan, Lieutenant General Salva Kiir Mayardit, who is the refined scholar? Who is the professional politician?

The ‘war’ against Mabior shows nothing but fear—deep hidden fear. It indicates that whoever is in the presidency or close to the presidency feels politically insecure because he lacks leadership qualities. He is a weakling. He is vulnerable to downfall, both democratically and militarily. His foundation is so flimsy such that a slight gentle push could send him crumbling. If the presidency wasn’t so weak, Mabior’s words wouldn’t have caused panic. If Mabior was a drunkard, a good for nothing citizen, why speak your lungs out, trying to shoot him down then?

You just made a drunkard a hero. See? Shouldn’t I say one man’s weakness is another man’s strength?

 

The President’s Son

Posted: September 5, 2012 by PaanLuel Wël in Poems., Tearz Ayuen, World
Tags: , ,

by Tearz Ayuen

Look,

You broke ass son of a hunter

Do you know who you’re messing with?

Do you have an idea who the fuck I am?

You seem to know nothing about me, uh?

Okay, listen

I am the son of the president

Did you hear that?

My dad is the president

Read my lips, preee-ssssi-denn-t

We run this country

We rule you, motherfucker

We own everything in it;

The airport, the police, the army, the rivers and mountains, the wildlife,

The oil, the banks, the hospitals, the media, the mountains,

The roads, the whole city

Everything

Even yourself!

We own you and your poor parents

We’ve got your lives in the palm of our hand

We decide who lives and who dies

That’s our responsibility,

Our mandate

It’s written

We can raise taxes,

Quadruple food prices,

Ban imports,

And hoard basic food items like flour,

Sugar, bread and milk

If we like,

Just to cleanse the country of roaches like you

I could call my dad right now to instruct his boys to do it

And believe me, by the end of six months,

You would have starved to death

As a wild fire consumes savannah grassland in summer,

So would hunger and diseases feast on your siblings

Or there are so many ways to kill a rat

We could just shut all the windows of survival,

With exception of only one

Guess what it is

It’s your sister, fool

We could mold her into something else,

An idol

Something monetary,

A sex trade commodity

We could turn her into a hawker,

A professional prostitute,

Who would satisfy my dad’s business friends’ sexual adventures

Imagine how much she would be getting in exchange of her body

With only one source of income, you people wouldn’t die quickly though

But slowly and painfully,

Both physically and emotionally

So, what makes you think I can’t enter this club with my Nine?

Like I told you earlier,

We own everything

This nightclub is also my dad’s

I have access to it,

Anytime,

Any day,

Whether I am carrying an RPG or 50 Cal

It’s none of your fucking business

Now get the fuck out of my way,

Before I put a bullet in your dumb head

And have your body dumped in the river

I said get the fuck out of my way!

Okay,

You have the guts to push me, uh?

I see

You are planning to commit a suicide, right?

Dude, I won’t let you do that

Coz you are already dead,

Half-dead

Poverty killed your other half

And it is about to take away the remaining half

In fact, you were born like that – half-dead,

Half-human being

Fully poor

A son of a pauper

Thanks to your uncle, Grinding Poverty!

The only blood brother of your father

And now you want me to stain my hands with your stinking blood?

Hell no

No way!

I am not going to waste my bullet on a worthless thing like you

I would rather shoot a dog or a baboon

Yes I am a drunkard and so what?

What do you expect of a big boy like me,

A big boy whose father is the most powerful man around here?

We got all the money, man

In my house, we do not use toilet rolls

Toilet paper is a symbol of poverty

It indicates how poor one is

I tell you,

In my place, we wipe our asses with dollar bills,

Hundreds, to be specific

So, what comes to your mind?

All I do is drink,

Smoke weed, shisha, cigars and cigarettes,

Fuck,

Eat,

And sleep

So, how does my drinking concern you?

Or are you jealous of the liquor brand I am drinking?

Dude, this is called Cognac

I believe you can’t pronounce that, Mister Never-Been-To-School

Now read my lips again, ko-ni-ak

Cognac is a French brandy, fool

You have never tasted it,

And never shall you taste it

It’s very expensive, dude

It would cost you one of your kidneys to buy a cognac,

You broke ass motherfucker

I don’t even know why I am talking to you,

You knucklehead

What?

What do you mean, get a life?

Do I look like I got no life?

Look me in the eye

Check me out,

From my toes to the head;

My designer jeans, my UGG boots, my Heuer Carrera,

My dreadlocks, my tattoos, my iPhone, my drawers

Now tell me,

What life are you talking about?

I ride a Chrysler 300 C

I own two mansions,

One in Kampala, one in Nairobi,

Another in Sydney

I got millions of dollars in the bank

Isn’t that life?

I have been to many places,

Cities you have never dreamt of

I have been to Havana, Dublin, Oslo, Rio de Janeiro,

Jamaica, Buenos Aires, Atlanta, Lagos and Antananarivo,

To mention but Just a few

If it is about school,

Forget it, man

Yes I discontinued my studies

Because I saw no reason of learning

In fact, I shouldn’t have enrolled in school in the first place

School is for poor dudes like you

A vehicle for escaping beggary,

A means of keeping wretchedness at bay

For me, my destiny is set

From day one,

The very day I was planted in my mum’s womb

Like father like son,

In few years coming, I will be the president

Yes, I am a prospective Commander-in-Chief of armed forces,

The would-be controller of everything in this country

The heir of my father’s business empire

The inheritor of this country

And remember I don’t need scholastic crap to rule you

The fact that my father was once the president is enough

It mandates my future presidency

Automatically, it gives me all the qualities of a leader

Even if I don’t succeed my father,

I will succeed one of his protégés

Shortly before the end of his tenure,

Dad’s protégé will visit us in our family house

He will explain to mum and my uncles his intentions,

That it is about time I am groomed for presidency

Shut the fuck up!

And put that fake phone away

Let me finish

Yes, we will all welcome the good news

Immediately, we won’t wait to celebrate,

To pop bottles of champagne

This would bring my drinking,

And my smoking to a pause,

As I concentrate on the campaign trails

With my father known as a hero,

The former president,

The man of the people

It would not take that long to win voters’ admirations

The paupers who take pride in names,

Things that are devoid of meaning

Folks who scramble to submit in their votes for my presidential candidacy

With the sole hope of being rewarded with the crumbs

That fall off the table,

Hope that never materializes

By the way, this is the only time you’re considered valuable

During elections, we value you

You become a valuable customer,

A political customer

All we require from you is a vote

Nothing else

After that, we forget your ass until another election season

That’s how we do it

We, the born to rule

Hey!

Who the hell are you people?

Let go of my arms

Stop pulling me

Shit!

What?

So you are cops, uh?

So, this filthy dude called cops on me?

I see

And you idiots got the balls to lay your hands on me?

Silly smelly cops

You little rats,

You just got your asses fired

That, I promise you

Wait till my dad learns of this……..