Elegy for S. Sudan: Diary of stranded journalist trying to get back home

Staff from aid agency Doctors Without Borders (MSF) treat patients at a makeshift clinic within the grounds of the Catholic Cathedral in the South Sudanese capital Juba on July 15, after days of fighting left hundreds dead and forced thousands to flee their homes. PHOTO | AFP

What you need to know:

  • Excitement of going back home after attending media forum in Japan turns into a nightmare.
  • Among the crowd were South Sudanese students from China and business people.
  • For the next three days, I could not communicate on my situation. Above all, there was a complete blackout of news from home.
  • Despite all the anxiety, abuse and stress I underwent in Addis Ababa because of the situation at home, I am proud to be a South Sudanese because just a few years ago, I and others never had a place to call home.

I smoked my last cigarette and sat on the only chair available in the room with my face in my hands and elbows to the knee, sobbing quietly.

Other smokers in this littered and congested room at Bole International Airport in Addis Ababa had no idea of what I was going through — crying for my beloved country, South Sudan.

After about 10 minutes, I wiped away my tears and stepped out of the smoke-filled room.

It was Friday, July 15, my sixth day at the airport, as I waited to proceed to Juba. I was waiting to go back home, just like thousands of foreigners in South Sudan who were stuck in Juba, awaiting evacuation.

I started recalling how proud and excited I was just a week earlier, sightseeing in Japan, getting lectures from prominent Japanese on their culture and secrets to development.

I was among 14 journalists from across Africa who were on a two-week visit of the Asian country at the invitation of the Japanese International Cooperation Agency.

But now here I was, in a completely different world, surrounded by people taunting me: “You SPLA (Sudan People’s Liberation Army), you Machar and you Kiir, why do you people like fighting? You want to fight here! Ehhh!”

STUCK IN ETHIOPIA

I felt like sobbing loudly, but controlled myself and started recalling everything that had happened since I got stuck in the Ethiopian capital.

After arriving from Tokyo on the morning of July 10, I got excited that I would not have to wait long before connecting to Juba.

I rushed to Terminal One for my flight. I joined many other South Sudanese who were waiting to take a flight to Juba.

I queued up with them for security checks and I got through to the departure lounge.

Next to me was the wife of a South Sudanese diplomat from the United States who had never been home for 15 years.

She introduced herself as Nyandeng.

“I cant wait to step on the soil of Juba despite the fight,” she said with a smile and I nodded in agreement. She continued narrating her lively childhood in Juba when it used to be the biggest village in the world.

As she kept yapping, a voice from the microphone made us attentive. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are sorry to announce that flight number ET 356 for Juba has been cancelled.

All passengers are advised to remain seated and will be shown where to go,” came the polite but assertive voice.

We became confused, angry and sad. Some passengers had been at the airport the day before.

“Has God been waiting for me for 15 years to let such a thing happen?” Ms Nyandeng screamed, with the question directed at no one in particular.

Among the crowd were South Sudanese students from China and business people.

We were all stranded.

I fished out my tablet from a bag and sat in a corner with my legs stretched. I then started writing a story about stranded South Sudanese in Addis Ababa. Halfway through the story, I stopped because I felt our situation was not worse than that of the thousands of people who had been displaced by the senseless war.

A few minutes later, an Ethiopian Airlines official came and collected our passports and processed transit visas for us so that we could go to a hotel or a ghetto.

Luckily for me, while at the airport, I managed to send a few emails to friends on the cancellation of the flight and asked for an alternative transfer just a few hours before the Ethiopian Government blocked the social media and all Internet access nationwide.

BLACKOUT OF NEWS FROM HOME

The reason the authorities gave was that pupils were sitting examinations and they were preventing a leakage of the exams through the social media.
For the next three days, I could not communicate on my situation. Above all, there was a complete blackout of news from home.

I started worrying about my family, friends and compatriots. From every call I made, I learnt about the death of a friend, a relative or a colleague.

I kept to myself.

In less than two days at the airport, I was already broke. The smoking area at the airport became my living room.

I carried luggage for a few dollars and directed new passengers to their respective gates.

Back at the hotel at night, I tried writing a piece on why there was fighting in Juba after the parties had signed a deal last August to end the 2013 rebellion in the country, which had claimed tens of thousands of lives and displaced millions in my poor homeland.

When the Internet was finally restored on Thursday July 14, I read a piece on this latest fight that had led to the cancellation of all flights to Juba.
Majaak D’ Agoot, a former Deputy Defence minister before the outbreak of the conflict in South Sudan in December 2013, warned that President Salva Kiir and Riek Machar had lost control of their forces.

According to D’ Agoot, warlords from both sides call the shots in Juba.

That the two leaders’ appeal for calm on Friday 8th July was not heeded lends credence to D’ Agoot’s assertion.

Before I could finish writing the piece, my energy had been drained and my mind was no longer straight because all I could see online were news about the displacement of tens of thousands of people, looting of shops and warehouses, destruction of property and deaths of soldiers and civilians, including women and children. And yes, deaths of journalists too.

HUNGER PANGS
I could not come to terms with all these and felt weaker and weaker as hunger pangs took a toll on me.

When I woke up on Friday morning, I somehow managed to convince myself that I was better off staying in the transit section during the day and at the hotel in the evening, unlike fellow South Sudanese in the bushes and others starving on the streets.

Despite all the anxiety, abuse and stress I underwent in Addis Ababa because of the situation at home, I am proud to be a South Sudanese because just a few years ago, I and others never had a place to call home.

That is one irreversible fact that should never be forgotten in the search for peace in my country.

How many more people should die before this senseless war comes to a stop?

***

Richard Sultan is a South Sudanese journalist who was on a recent tour of Japan that was sponsored by JICA