No other choice
Women in South Sudan have the great responsibility to give birth in hard conditions and raise families with little resources.
Txata is a mother of three children. She gave birth few days ago in Dangaji, a very remote village in Maban county, in South Sudan, where health services are really limited.
She lives with a disability in her right side of the body, but she keeps sustaining her family as best as she can. Her husband is away most of the time, and she is the only one to provide food, water and shelter to her children and her elder mother.
Life of women and mothers in South Sudan, as in many countries in Africa, is greatly tough. They assume the hardest work, even in their late pregnancies or when they need to look after newborn babies. There are no other choices. Lives are under their responsibility. And this is something totally hard to assume. Too hard.
According to WHO, South Sudan has one of the highest rates of maternal and neonatal mortality in the world, apart from the shocking rate of under-five mortality (10%).
Licence to kill for 25 dollars
Cheap guns and expensive cows: an explosive combination in South Sudan.
In South Sudan’s cattle camps, there are two very important possessions: the first one are, obviously, the cows, which are very appreciated because they enhance social prestige, and because are being used as currency of commercial transactions and marriage arrangements; the second one are the weapons, “indispensable” tools to defend against those who want to steal the cattle.
South Sudan is one of the countries in Africa with more arms. A very high rate of civilians has a rifle at home, either for cultural reasons or for safety. A Russian-made machine-gun, an AK-47, “only” costs $25 in the black market. It’s a “fair” price to defend the ownership of the cows, which can cost 10 times more.
After years of war, the arms culture is so ingrained in the country that cattle keepers, especially the youth, realize that apart from protecting their cows, with a machine-gun on their hands they can easily steal, rape, loot or kill. And this is already happening…
Gleaners in South Sudan
Hunger makes many South Sudanese people put on their knees to collect the last crumb of food.
Some years ago I watched the documentary The Gleaners and I, by Agnès Varda, a film that I always keep in mind. It features all those people who collect what others throw away. From the moment I saw this movie, I have come across gleaners everywhere I travelled, but never as many as in South Sudan. Here, the last crumb has a value that in other places is not even considered. Empty plastic bottles, puddles, bags, old newspapers and above all, in places where humanitarian organizations distribute food, there is always a group of gleaners who pick up sorghum grains that have been left on the ground. For some people it may look below the human dignity, but it’s definitely a lesson of making the most of others’ waste.
Fifteen children at home
The arrival of many displaced people in Yambio made Julie live in a real nursery.
Yambio, a town of 40,000 residents at the western border of South Sudan with DRC, is experiencing an unprecedented displacement. In the past months, indiscriminate attacks by armed groups in the rural area have forced hundreds of families flee to the city. They found accommodation in houses of relatives, friends, colleagues or even charitable souls who open their doors.
Julie Adriano, a single mother of two children, lives in a nearly unbearable situation. Julie received some relatives who fled from Gitikiri village, but she also fostered two other children who lost their parents during the escape. Five adults take care of 15 children who flutter around the house. Her house has became a real nursery.
The increase of water consumption, the shortage of food and the lack of soap and clothes are some of the main challenges that households are currently facing in Yambio.
What do you do?
This is the conversation I had yesterday with William Deng, an 18-year-old humanitarian worker who lives in a small hut with his family on the outskirts of Aweil, South Sudan:
– What do you do when you finish work?
– I collect firewood with my father.
– Yes. OK. But what do you do in your spare time?
– I’m at home.
– Fine, but what do you do at home?
– I mean if you do something, like reading…
– Ah! I understand. No. I don’t read. I don’t have books.
– Writing, listening to the radio, playing cards?
– I have no paper, no radio, no cards…
– So what do you do in your spare time?
– I’m at home.
A few years ago, an experienced aid worker who lives in Ethiopia told me the word “boredom” does not even exist in many local African languages. Perhaps the word was invented by those companies that sell books, paper, radios and cards and want to convince us we need them to avoid boredom. But William didn’t seem bored to me.