Magdalene Chol Thon
My life as a South Sudanese has been a difficult yet beautiful journey. I was born in a town called Nimule, on the border with Uganda. My family had relocated from the northern city of Malakal, the capital of Upper Nile state.
My father was at the forefront of the civil war with the North Sudanese – unlike his brother, who went to the United States to study engineering.
My father, a freedom fighter, moved to Nimule and my elder siblings and I were born there. The younger ones were born in East Africa later on.
Because of my father’s patriotism, all of us were proud to be known as South Sudanese. He fought hard for the freedom of our country and almost lost his life countless times. Because of the war, he was rarely home during my childhood.
It was difficult for us and, of course, for him as well. This went on until 9 July 2011, when South Sudan finally became an independent country. We all celebrated the birth of this new country.
Later that year my father came back home alongside other soldiers, but he was in low spirits. Asked about it, he said: “Acin ki piec e’ tong, achin miet de’ piou eyuok thieng – there’s nothing good about war, and there’s no happiness in it.”
In other words, violence should not be the only way to attain that which you seek. He believed that there was always a more peaceful approach to resolving conflict. With that in mind we grew up with the mentality of resolving our differences peacefully.
It was difficult for others to accept this resolve. They called it cowardice; I called it civilisation.
In 2013, a year after my family moved to Uganda to further our education, civil war broke out in South Sudan, starting in the north and making its bloody way southward.
We grew up with the mentality of resolving our differences peacefully. It was difficult for others to accept.
My relatives who stayed in Malakal were affected greatly by the war, which caused hundreds of thousands of deaths and widespread destruction of property. Many people fled their homes in search of sanctuary. All of this represented another setback to our political and social development as a country.
Being South Sudanese in a Ugandan school was difficult. We were bullied for our dark skin and height. Children and adults called us names and made fun of our skin tone. We could have fought them and scared them off but we had learned otherwise. My dad had taught us that violence is never the answer.
The bullying was sometimes so unbearable that it made me despise my skin tone. I grew ashamed of my dark skin and origin as a South Sudanese. I often looked around at other South Sudanese who had changed their lifestyle to adapt to the foreign culture, and they bleached their dark skin to fit in.
I could not judge them: it was a desperate attempt to escape discrimination and stigmatisation, and for some it proved effective. No one talked and whispered behind their backs as they passed by. I envied them that.
Life grew harder yet, over time, and so did my insecurities – but as I thought about it, I realised that changing how I look would only make me lose my identity as a South Sudanese.
Just because it was easier did not make it right. I could try to be someone else, but then who would try or want to be me? I always asked myself this question – because as simple as it seemed, it demanded a difficult answer.
I had only one answer: No one would want to be me because I would have no identity. If I lose myself then I lose the South Sudanese in me, and if I fail as a South Sudanese then I fail the millions of people that lost their lives for my country.
As I thought about it, I realised that changing how I look would only make me lose my identity as a South Sudanese. Just because it was easier did not make it right.
And with time I realised that the problem was not with others. It was within us. We tend to forget that this was the country we fought for, and that our forefathers fought for.
Currently when information about our country is sought on the internet, nothing positive shows up. Just negative information about the civil wars and corruption, which is why people from around the world look down on us and discriminate against us. Their negativity is based on the bad image about us.
To change that image we must address and fix the major problems affecting us as citizens.
We must reimagine our country, but to do that we must first appreciate the beauty of being who we are – because only when we truly know and understand who we are can we come together in unity and rebuild this precious country.
It was indeed difficult to grow up and live as a young South Sudanese, facing discrimination and stigmatisation. But just because it can be difficult does not make it a crime to be seen as one.
I study hard each day to get enough knowledge to rebuild my country, but I never forget to pause and appreciate the beauty of being a citizen of this one.
And I always try to put it out there for people going through the same problems: be proud of yourself and of your identity as a South Sudanese, because it is a luxury we are getting after so many lives were sacrificed.
I am proud and every other South Sudanese should be just as proud of who we are as citizens of this great country.