I weep for my beautiful land

By Ngor Khot Garang

Not the tears of pity or despair because this is the land of abundant resourcefulness and people of inextinguishable hope.  A country where hope is the only best meal.  I cry for the crying South Sudan, my lovely country asking me to give her a second chance to live again. A second chance to a life time of peace and prosperity.   She is asking me to pray for her and asked me too to silence the gun that has made her dumb and deaf which she says is the reason why the whole world paid deaf ears to her plight.

Hear my country; she wants to know what is going on in the world. In the other world, people are happy and life is sweet and my South Sudan is sad, eating the bitter tears. She is known not for good, and often people run away from her but she is known through her cheeks stained with tears. Tears that never dry, even the animals, the pet, the stray dogs on the streets plus the wild animals whose habitat is burnt down know the optical illusion produced by tears.

Can’t you mourn with the mourning country, a country whose blessings is turned into a curse; a country whose hope is broken into a million pieces? See the bushes around filled with skulls and skeletons, see the once beautiful soil lined with decorated graves, visit the river Nile where life was once found, it is flowing with blood and corpses, fish are suffocating and dying from the human carcass.

Then turn your gaze to the struggling father and mother who sweat for food and no reward at the end of the day. What about the children who grow up too soon and die too early, see the desperate parents who had to marry off their 15 year old daughter to survive.  I cry for my crying land; can you hear the birds that used to sing the beautiful and joyful songs? They are not there, their nests are burnt down; the remaining few are facing extinction.

Can you hear them again, they are singing but you won’t listen to their songs. It is about sorrows and hopelessness. The sun never rest early as it used to be, everything is slow and the journey seem to be long. It is a journey that bites and pinches whoever is moving forward, when you want to move, you are crippled before you reach your targeted limit.

I cry for my land! The peace agreement seems too far and everyone is sad-faced. Rescue the ship-wrecking country, my beautiful land is falling into deep waters and nobody cares. Our ancestors, can’t you ask our creator why he is not quick to take action? We have asked, we have cried, and he has seen the most unthinkable act committed, a pregnant woman killed and her child plucked and every sort of violent. Why us and us always? I think you the ancestors must be crying for us too.  I wish you were here to see the country built on your back.

You promised us that it was going to be the best country in the world, now we promised the same should work with our children and our children will promise theirs too.  Help my beautiful land.


The writer is a high school student.  He can be reached via Email: ngorjacob7@gmail.com or mobile: 0925405723 


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