Changjwok Jr.

"...I pray to God that no South Sudanese kid will again be fooled and sweet-talked into another war of positions and ranks in future and...’’
~ Family Tears Apart.

Revisiting the Lomin Warning: South Sudan's Ongoing Challenge of Elections Without a Constitution and Census.

Last October, I sounded the alarm about the dangers of holding elections in South Sudan using outdated data from the 2010 population census and 2008 constituencies. Unfortunately, not much has changed since then, and the country is still facing the same challenges. As a concerned citizen, I can't help but feel like we're stuck in a loop, reliving the same challenges over and over again.

We're standing at a crossroads, and the future of our country is hanging in the balance. We're being asked to hold elections without a permanent constitution or a credible population census. It's a recipe for disaster, and the stakes couldn't be higher. I remember the pain and suffering of our past conflicts, and I don't want to see us go back to those dark days.

I think about the mothers who lost their children in the conflict, the families who were displaced, and the young people who were denied an education. We can't afford to fail them. We owe it to ourselves, our children, and the future of our country to get this right.

Without a constitution, we're essentially flying blind. We're leaving room for power struggles and disputes that could boil over into violence. A constitution is more than just a document – it's a promise to our people, a commitment to protect their rights and ensure accountable governance.

The lack of a population census is equally concerning. How can we ensure fair representation and accurate voter registration without knowing who we are and where we live? It's like trying to build a house without a foundation – it simply won't stand.

Our history is marked by conflict and resilience. Let's not risk undoing the progress we've made so far. Premature elections without these essential prerequisites could reignite tensions, deepen divisions, and push us back into the abyss.

The Way Forward: A Path to Stability and Progress

So, what's the way forward? First, we need to prioritize the drafting and adoption of a permanent constitution that reflects our aspirations and values. This process should be inclusive, transparent, and participatory, involving all stakeholders, including civil society, opposition parties, and marginalized groups.

Second, we need to expedite the conduct of a credible population census, which will provide the necessary data for fair representation, voter registration, and equitable resource allocation.

Finally, we need to engage in a national dialogue to address the root causes of conflict, promote reconciliation, and build trust.

Let's work together to build a brighter future for South Sudan. We can do this! We owe it to ourselves, our children, and the future of our country to get this right.

“The Children of our "liberators" have taken over. They don't wear red clothes, for this is only preserved for SPLM's followers.” 🙆🏿🙆🏿

~Mabior Riiny Lual

Africa’s Literary Revolutionary Passes at 87

The continent has lost one of its boldest intellectuals. Kenyan author and decolonial theorist Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, a towering figure in African literature, passed away on the morning of Wednesday, May 28, 2025, at the age of 87.

Widely regarded as Africa’s literary field marshal, Ngũgĩ’s contributions transcended borders. His work not only reshaped Kenyan thought but influenced generations of African writers, thinkers, and cultural workers across the continent and beyond.

Ngũgĩ will be remembered as an uncompromising voice who challenged colonial legacies and called for the liberation of African minds.

He rejected the colonial gaze, abandoned English in favor of his native Gĩkũyũ language, and authored groundbreaking works such as Decolonising the Mind, Petals of Blood, and Devil on the Cross the latter written on prison-issued toilet paper during his incarceration for a play critical of Kenya’s ruling class.

“He was not just a Kenyan writer. He belonged to Africa. He was ours,” a South Sudanese academic remarked in Juba on Wednesday, reflecting the continental grief.

Ngũgĩ’s passing echoes profoundly in South Sudan, where his spirit is seen in kinship with the late Ugandan poet Okot p’Bitek, author of Song of Lawino, and Taban Lo Liyong, South Sudan’s own literary icon.

Together, they challenged the academic establishment in the 1960s, transforming the University of Nairobi into a battleground for African thought, demanding literature be taught through African eyes and voices.

He also stood in dialogue with Africa’s literary pantheon Chinua Achebe, Cyprian Ekwensi, and Al Tayyib Salih each chronicling the psychological scars and structural injustices left by empire. Yet, while many adapted, Ngũgĩ radicalized. Where others compromised, he remained defiantly critical of neo-colonialism, political betrayal, and the erasure of African identity.

Even in exile, Ngũgĩ never abandoned the continent in his work. Kenya, and Africa at large, lived and breathed through his pages.

Looking at the Legacy Beyond Literature

Ngũgĩ’s death raises a timely question for young African writers and thinkers: who will carry forward the mission of decolonizing the African mind? Who will challenge the modern plagues of tribalism, elite corruption, and the commodification of culture?

His passing is not only a loss, but a call to action.

“Ngũgĩ is dead. But his courage is not. His books are not. His spirit is not,” said a South Sudanese writer in Yambio. “Let us read him not as a memory, but as a manual.”

As tributes pour in from across Africa, scholars and students are urged not only to mourn but to engage. To read him. To quote him. To follow his vision. And, above all, to write harder without fear.

Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o has taken his final bow, but his pen remains raised in the hands of a continent he helped awaken.

~Went