My first encounter with H.E. President Salva Kiir and the call to save our country!
Emmanuel Sunday de John2
By Dr. Sunday de John, Nairobi, Kenya
Saturday, 13 December 2025 (PW) — In the years 1988 and 1989, a few months before we flocked to Ethiopia, Yirol was overflowing with soldiers, men described as troops belonging to the Intifadha Battalion. They were bound for a war in Rumbek under the command of Commander Salva Kiir Mayardit. Their temporary barracks were located in Panliet Abuok Akech in the neighborhood of Pan-Liet Chieng Ciiri. When they were dispatched to Rumbek through Payii, they were first stationed in Yirol town, where I first had the opportunity to see Commander Salva Kiir Mayardit and I was afforded a chance to greet him courtesy of my late auntie, Awadia Manyol Tianic and the big man then cameraman, Malual Gordon.
He appeared at a rally that many citizens of Yirol attended. He spoke in Arabic first, and his speech was interpreted by a well-known, audible local interpreter (Agamlong) who spiced the Commander’s words with humor, he sometimes twisted his words to the amusement of many. His speech was calmly measured, truthful and emotional, it was inspiring to the citizens. We were excited to see the military fatigues worn by his troops. They were well-equipped with tanks, numerous Ural vehicles, and heavy weapons, including ZPU 1, ZPU 2, ZPU 4, KPV 14.5MM, and other impressive armaments.
The peculiarities I observed during that time were numerous, but two striking individuals stood out: a brown man named Makuei, whose father’s name I can’t recall, and a local singer from the Agar community named Makuen-Gok. Makuei the soldier was a lanky, handsome man, markedly different from those around him; with his brown complexion, one could easily mistake him for an Arab. Tragically, he was later killed in the same war.
Makuen-Gok was a talented singer and dancer known for his enthralling performances. He owned a special ostrich feather, called Nyiniing, which he treasured and used to entice his audience. Like many other children, I felt a surge of joy whenever I spotted him walking through the market. His favorite place to perform was under a mango tree in the main market, where he was often gifted with a tobacco, which he fondly referred to as Awang, from Akech Maguarpiau.
Makuen-Gok regarded tanks as his bulls and sang songs in praise of his favorite tank, whose driver, Manut, was my closest friend. If I recall correctly, his song went like this: “Thon ee Wun e raise, Thon ee Wun e Salva, Thon e Wun e Kiir Mayardit Thon e Ruu kieu x2, yin Manut guup Thon ee jath be kiu, yin Manut guup Thon e jath be Thon kiu, dieet ee Maliik, kue Thoon nook, kong la deet da Manut, Kong la deet da Manut.”
Makuen-Gok was a top-notch entertainer, always keeping Commander Salva cheerful throughout the day. He remained by the commander’s side, almost like a shadow. After a few weeks, they departed for Rumbek, where they initiated the war. The battles fought in and around Rumbek turned bloody, resulting in enormous losses. Several troops lost their lives, and many others sustained injuries.
Those who sustained injuries were returned to Yirol, where several medical assistants at Yirol Hospital took care of them. We lived in the vicinity of the hospital. Most of the men with bullet wounds and other injuries were stationed at our house. Early each morning, they were brought out under a mango tree in our compound, where a traditional orthopedic surgeon named Makuei Marial, from the wonderful land of Apaak Mapuor, treated their fractured bones. As their wounds were washed and dressed, they cried, and we cried with them. It was a painful experience; witnessing a grown man shed tears from pain was emotionally draining.
After they regained their comfort, I had conversations with some of them. They grew fond of me. I would rush to grab groundnuts from the sack my grandmother had placed near our door for me. As a little boy, I enjoyed eating raw groundnuts, and they did too. This shared experience helped strengthen our friendship.
We used to walk in groups; the boys who strolled through Yirol with me at that time included John Juba Achinbaai (Malok), Kamis Paul Thok, and Adhuma Majur. Some days, we would go to the Shilak residential area to play with our friends, often following our older brothers, like Tieng Paul, Kumchieng Pial (also known as Kumchieng Nyan-Agar Elijah), Dhieu Kucdit Deng, Bec Nyuon, Mansur Azaki, Madit Machuei, Lat Machuei, Makogo Ater Matot, Gum Agok aka Bat-bat, and many others.
Our group of playful boys engaged in a game called “Gorilla,” where we chased each other while climbing trees. This group included those I mentioned earlier, along with Makoi Majok Tooch, Telar Nyol Ajok, Achol Kucdit, and others. We found joy and comfort in the games we played.
This piece aims to highlight that the liberation struggle was not limited to specific communities; it involved several non-armed actors, including food providers, canoe rowers who navigated the crocodiles’ infested waterways ferrying the fighters across rivers and the Nile, experts like Makuei Marial who saved lives, boys who brought water to the wounded, women’s union groups that fed and housed leaders, and men like Makuei, who became the first casualty of the Rumbek war, all of whom played a significant role.
The men who fought wars in different towns of South Sudan did not come from one community. They were from different parts of the country. That is where I began to know a man from Yambio called Karlo. I also knew one Kon Ugwak from Jurchol and two other men who became members of my family, Tong Atem and Makuei Wol. We possess firsthand information about the liberation struggle.
In my time of reflection, especially in my lonely room, lying in bed facing the ceiling, my mind races a lot about the events that happened before we attained independence; the war of liberation brought about unbreakable friendship, but the bonds broke too quickly after independence. The war of liberation led by the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement/Army lasted for 21 solid years of togetherness. The independence of South Sudan was accompanied by our division just two years after it was attained.
Do we think about this? Is there somebody closer to President Salva Kiir Mayardit to remind him about people like Makuei, the man of brown complexion who was killed in Rumbek, and his thousands of colleagues killed in different battles around the country? Does Makuei have children? Is our president cognizant of Makuen-Gok’s fate? Does Makuen-Gok, the moral orientation king of the troops, have children? What about those that handled the wounded? Does Makuei Marial, who volunteered his services to fix fractured bones of the wounded soldiers and use his skills to manage highly contaminated wounds without the use of antimicrobials, have any children? If so, what is it that has been done to them? Questions like these keep me awake throughout the night. They have caused insomnia for me, and for days, I stay awake contemplating this.
I do not remember these matters so that I can place the blame President Salva Kiir Mayardit, who himself had suffered like many of his colleagues; rather, I challenge myself and other South Sudanese to think of rewarding our fallen martyrs through services. Enhancing the quality of life for South Sudan’s citizens could achieve this. This means availability of affordable health services, free quality education, and effective physical infrastructure, including a seamless road network around the country and decent housing for the veterans.
The pain brought about by the remembrance of our fallen martyrs and the hard work of the generations that sustained with their invaluable resources the cause for liberation struggle could have been rewarded. Rewarded with the comfort of the citizens.
Unfortunately, this has not happened. We have forgotten so quickly, become corrupt, and even gone to the extent of butchering each other along tribal divisions while dwarfing the country with senseless war brought about by uncalled-for power struggles.
Is it too late? No, a lot can be salvaged. We need to think differently. attenuate political rivalry and embrace peaceful coexistence. A judicious reflection of this kind can afford us a chance to think of development because our merger resources will not be directed to war but the vital services.
Till then, yours truly, Mr. Teetotaler?
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