DUT JR.

POINTS OF CORRECTION...

I hope this message finds you in a good manner.. About educated and uneducated ladies..

This have been trending on social media____ I would like to bring it into your attention that both educated and uneducated ladies Carry a various roles and responsibilities basing on how they have been brought up from environment of their childhoods.

Modernly, most of the people adapts to the system where they could takes their daughters to school.

This is very crucial and beneficial stage of their lives.

I would like to hash my brothers to leave our educated ladies alone. Do not compare them with uneducated ones.

Educated ladies are strong enough to contradict what's men can do better. They are our shelter, don't provoke them in away they can be undermined.

Other points of correction is that all ladies living in city or town are not educated ones, some are not educated but, some are educated.

Most of the ladies living in town/cities now Plays a various roles in their respective attitudes, some are working, some ladies are running business, others are wh***ng most of them are street gals. Which will literally bring enormous differences.

But, we're not considering this. why?
Educated ladies bear superconcious mind where they establish their independent resources. Why are we not appreciating them?

In addition to that, both educated and uneducated women carry the same roles and responsibilities.

However, their works and attitudes will defines them later. You can be educated but, when you do not carry good habits, displine, hardwork, self esteem you're not educated person.

Be creative enough to chasing your main goals and aimbitions towards your nearest future.

Living trying to understand the situation of South Sudan government.

South Sudan government 👇
🫣🤭

There are moments in life when everything feels too heavy, too loud, too much—and in those moments, it’s okay to step back.

You are allowed to disappear for a while, not because you’re weak, but because you’re human. Healing doesn’t happen in the spotlight; it happens in quiet spaces where you can finally hear your own thoughts and feel your own heart again.

Growth isn’t always visible, and just because the world can’t see you doesn’t mean you’re not becoming something stronger, softer, and more whole.

Just like the moon, you are not meant to shine at full brightness every single night. There are phases where you will feel dim, hidden, or incomplete—but even then, you are still whole, still worthy, still enough.

Trust the rhythm of your own life. Your light will return, not because you forced it, but because you gave yourself the time and grace to heal and grow.

— DUT

MASSIVE, OVERWHELMING, GROUND-SHAKING CONGRATS to the South Sudan Captain CJ Maker
YOU LED THE TEAM TO VICTORY LIKE A MADMAN! Unbelievable performance, unstoppable squad goals, and straight-up DOMINANT! South Sudan's beaming with pride! Your leadership is THE. BEST.

Keep living that captain life and keep crushing it!

This win's for the books!

Whoever sells people for the sake of others ends up losing everyone in the end
Arop Deng Ngong 😃

This will be my last time inviting rään pagor to tea place.

Today, I had privileged early this morning to invited Arop Deng Ngong a favorite friend and Nisip from pagor to a certain near by tea place in Hai Thoura.........I ordered milk-tea (Shai- leben) and Cake as we continued to sipped our tea in luxurious kind of mode, so we discussed some other important issues concerning the ongoing South Sudan crisis and some students politics especially GYU, as we wait for the woman to prepare tea, he said no, I don't like taking tea with cake, give me some cash I know what is good for me, I gave him 10000 SSP in less than 1 minute he went and brought two fried fish with him in the black kabara.

I asked him, what for bro? So he replied yes! This is what we take tea with in my village, it prevent malaria and chronic diarrhea from easily attacking you, Majokrial said.

Everyone was surprised and started to look at us but as a Nisip and good friend to him I didn't allowed the spirit of shame that was telling me to escape from the situation.

To make the matter worst he smeared with the remaining oil of fish while in suits, saying that it's the best perfume ever!!

As I'm speaking to you this evening dear ladies and gentlemen, we cancelled our mission to freedom Hall and he headed back home because the oil of fish he smeared with is chasing people away from the street.

Other news were saying he was spotted this afternoon in nyaying playing ground playing against Citcok Ater Ajang!

Some of us came from humble families with sad stories.

We are not born with silver spoons.Yet, we are not hustling to impress or to be in any competition with anyone.

We just want to change the storyline, give our family a better life, build for the future and fight battles our parents never won.

Hope we get the future we always pray for.

Ask your lady without a DEGREE about what's happening in Iran and you'll see that underneath that weave is just a Rock."😭

Professor K the Lecturer should stop confusing his fans, who is who between aciën camera nhiër thöür köc puöth and the one at home now

The Night I Risked My Life Sleeping in a Lady’s House.

In 2012, I made the most reckless decision of my young, innocent, God-fearing life. I agreed to sleep in a lady’s house. Yes, me. A whole Ghetto President.

For months, she had been begging, persuading, and emotionally blackmailing me like a Nollywood villain. “Why don’t you ever sleep at my place? Don’t you love me? Don’t you trust me?” Blah blah blah. You know women with emotions, once they start, even CNN can’t interrupt them.

I kept dodging like a politician trying to avoid accountability. She would sleep at my place, no problem. But me? Entering her house? That was like volunteering for a horror movie audition.

Why? Because I knew the story of one poor guy who went to sleep in a lady’s house and never woke up. Her ex, who was still technically the landlord since he paid the rent showed up and beat the new boyfriend like a rented drum. The man died. Finished. Game over.

So when this hanty kept pressing me, I said, “God, if I perish, I perish.” I recited every Biblical verse I knew, Psalms, Proverbs, even the ones I normally skip. I was ready to fight demons, ex-boyfriends, and rent collectors.

Finally, I agreed. But let me tell you, I did not remove my clothes. No sir. I slept fully dressed like a soldier on standby. Boots, jeans, belt, everything intact. Because if the ex came storming in, I wasn’t about to run naked into the street shouting “Jesus is Lord.”

Now, sleep was impossible. My body was lying down, but my spirit was 80% awake, scanning the environment like a CCTV camera. Every creak of the door sounded like Judgment Day.

Then it happened. In my half-sleep, I felt huge hands on my neck. My ancestors screamed, “This is it!
The ex has arrived!” I jumped up like a man escaping hellfire.

But guess what? It was her arm. She was cuddling me. CUDDLING. Do you know the trauma of mistaking affection for assassination?

She jumped up too, panicking, asking what happened. I told her The Night I Risked My Life Sleeping in a Lady’s House.

In 2012, I made the most reckless decision of my young, innocent, God-fearing life. I agreed to sleep in a lady’s house. Yes, me. A whole Ghetto President.

For months, she had been begging, persuading, and emotionally blackmailing me like a Nollywood villain. “Why don’t you ever sleep at my place? Don’t you love me? Don’t you trust me?” Blah blah blah. You know women with emotions, once they start, even CNN can’t interrupt them.

I kept dodging like a politician trying to avoid accountability. She would sleep at my place, no problem. But me? Entering her house? That was like volunteering for a horror movie audition.

Why? Because I knew the story of one poor guy who went to sleep in a lady’s house and never woke up. Her ex, who was still technically the landlord since he paid the rent showed up and beat the new boyfriend like a rented drum. The man died. Finished. Game over.

So when this hanty kept pressing me, I said, “God, if I perish, I perish.” I recited every Biblical verse I knew, Psalms, Proverbs, even the ones I normally skip. I was ready to fight demons, ex-boyfriends, and rent collectors.

Finally, I agreed. But let me tell you, I did not remove my clothes. No sir. I slept fully dressed like a soldier on standby. Boots, jeans, belt, everything intact. Because if the ex came storming in, I wasn’t about to run naked into the street shouting “Jesus is Lord.”

Now, sleep was impossible. My body was lying down, but my spirit was 80% awake, scanning the environment like a CCTV camera. Every creak of the door sounded like Judgment Day.

Then it happened. In my half-sleep, I felt huge hands on my neck. My ancestors screamed, “This is it!
The ex has arrived!” I jumped up like a man escaping hellfire.

But guess what? It was her arm. She was cuddling me. CUDDLING. Do you know the trauma of mistaking affection for assassination?

She jumped up too, panicking, asking what happened. I told her it was just a dream. But inside, I was thinking: “Madam, your love nearly sent me to the mortuary.”

I did not sleep again till morning. I prayed, packed myself, and went straight to my house.

To this day, I salute those brave men who sleep comfortably in a lady’s house. You, people, are heroes. Me? Never again.

✍️