Judas Iscariot and the disciples

Judas Iscariot and the disciples

In this late season, there is a reason why I am breaking my silence, though not by violence, which has been meted out to me. so, I am annoyed!

The first reason is this long silence is being exploited by my detractors, probably conniving with my ‘detectors’. Those who would wish to first delete my e-mail address and install theirs in its stead; those who think the only space for vertical expansion is on the other one’s head, using their brains too insensitive to detect too endless spaces above their own selves. Those fiends-in-friends and negative relatives have been exploiting my woes since they realized somebody could come across their way up tomorrow. That one must be Mr. Me. He has to be assassinated physically or psychologically. There they go!

Secondly, there is this character they want to assassinate in me. The character of being such a dare devil, which they think is being a bare devil; especially by the time I joined the civil society, which they consider an evil society. That character of going for the truth, and foregoing one’s life for it, is ever telling me to tell it live while still alive. For example, in January when I tried to complain to a number of influential people that somebody was out to terrorize us, especially Karbino whose threat was threadbare, they said I was faking it. That is why I must always tell it as it is in the following paragraphs of my final confession, which I very well know is also my fatal concession in the war against evil in our system.

Of course, the method for fighting for this cause is rather coarse to the egos of the backsliding heroes of our liberation. This approach that conveys reproach is summed up in the preface of my poetry book like this. “Therefore, my critique as a critic through the spectacles of a journalist and a columnist, a preacher and a teacher, an artist and an artiste, an actor and a director, a blogger and a broker, has revealed to me one principle: to pamper the boiling ego of a politician, flatter him orally; to tamper with it, clatter him morally.Either – but the latter – is well catered for in this book. This is to let you watch out lest they wash you out by their rapid motions of their rabid emotions! It is also my belief that politicians are poly-teachers. They reach out as if to teach how…as you yearn, but if from them you do not learn, they from you do now earn. That is why I have stopped relying on their lying and promised Jon Pen de Ngong, my inner man, “Until it won’t work out, still I won’t walk out.” Lo, we go…!” (The Black Christs of Africa).

Giving Juba the last look as t Left Juba Airport on January 31, 2013

Giving Juba the last look as t Left Juba Airport on January 31, 2013

The last reason why I am going to ‘confess’ here is to profess that principle in me. That is also found in a sample of the youth of the South, most of whom are now being crucified like Jesus on the calvary of our old slavery, which is still the order of the day in Khartoum. The principle is tampering, rather than pampering, with the boiling ego of our leaders, who habitually are not actually readers but listeners of our ‘yahooism’ against their ‘heroism’. Because I and my fellas have chosen the approach of ‘tampering with the temperament of our government’, the other fellow youth who subscribe to pampering our avuncular generation in their leadership are now unleashed against us, the ‘yahoo-yahoo rabbles’. This is my deliberate corruption of how one of ‘Their Excellencies’ in Juba once compared with and referred to us as ‘Yau-Yau Rebels’, meaning our generation on social media that he called ‘so-called media’, and the civil society that he ridiculed ‘evil society’. That is our post-independence brand of leadership by eldership in Juba!

But I am not here to blame our elders, problem is we the youth. It is not we the youth as such but our ignorance blended with arrogance; a sort of self-proclaimed intelligence founded on negligence. Take this for its example. In 1993 at my age of 13 in the third year of our primary school (P.3), we were being told anybody with dissenting voices in the SPLM was an enemy. Yes, they are ‘marasseen’, as we sang songs against the traitors while facing our political ‘Mecca’ (Khartoum). Now in 2013, in the third year or 13th year of their advanced studies, some of my age mates are being told the critics (always negated and relegated to the media and civil society) are used by Khartoum, or more recently, Yau-Yau rebels. That is why I altogether declared (corrected) it above that the Facebook generation are not Yau-Yau rebels but ‘Yahoo-Yahoo rabbles’ (Yahoo being an internet company but with its original or dictionary meaning of an unruly person). The youth become unruly for a reason, and the reason is exemplary. It is the government. And it is a fact not to be disputed that when a youth is on the wrong side of the government that is already on the wrong side of its own law, anarchy must be abundant as the rule of law is abandoned by the self-democratized monarchy.

The author (Ngong) and his colleagues in Palotaka Minors' Camp during the war, long before politicians and tribalists partitioned us into 'my brother's skipper' (Photo by Dr. L. Ostrowski, ADE)

The author (Ngong) and his colleagues in Palotaka Minors’ Camp during the war, long before politicians and tribalists partitioned us into ‘my brother’s skipper’ (Photo by Dr. L. Ostrowski, ADE)

To point out the origin of this artificial gene in our youth of today, I must accuse politics. There is what I call ‘political gene’ pirating on an individual’s moral fibre. In short, the youth with politically modified inhibition (PMI) are set against those with genetically modified exhibition (GME) of our moral uprightness in our post-independence South Sudan. And I have to point a longer finger of blame to our old guard politicians. In their desperate scramble for numbers, they have partitioned the youth and recruited those amorally downright against those morally downright. To clarify this, in the present day Kiir’s administration, the most finally stable youth are actually the most professionally unstable ones. That is why my former schoolmate or platoon colleague would do all necessary to log out or even exterminate this media or civil society activist, who is a threat to their status quo. In fact, the precedent being set by the current president is the opposite of repatriation, say brain drain, of the South Sudanese intelligentsia, leaving the new nation vulnerable to political saboteurs and economic scavengers. I mean, to eliminate those supposed to illuminate the blind society is nothing short of running a nascent autonomy with a ‘zombie economy’.

I am saying this with a live evidence that I have lost five of my most competent comrades in a very short blink of our current history, less than the period we required to lose such young men between 1993 and 2003, the period where the ‘Red Army’ (revolutionary youth of the Sudan) rediscovered their potentials both in political (physical) and academic war fronts. In such a young country where two extreme bombs are detonated simultaneously, call them boom and doom, their evils do eat into the society and feed on the prudent ones as their raw materials. You can do this only if you are prepared for suicide: criticize publically a civil servant who has diverted tax payers’ road or scholarship funds into buying V8s, hummers or limos…just name any other of those very pretty hot autos and flash them around for the suffering ones to just see (I say ‘just’)! The victim here is the one who is tempted by that blatant display of our own property amidst our horrible poverty to condemn or correct that economic sin. That is why writers and rioters such as this are back to refugee life for the second time in their life: worse still, the postwar and post-independence life!

For ‘an eye for an eye’ or a tit for tat, as the Nigerian duo (P-Square) says, “If you do me, I do you”, this generation cannot pamper those who do not pamper them. A bad father reaps a bad child — too late in an adult body in a dull mind. That is why, unlike my friends-cum-fiends, the current beneficiaries of the status quo in the 11th State (Juba City) of South Sudan, I thought it wise to choose otherwise. And that, I know pretty well, explains my woes. The only crime I and my fellas have committed is the same crime everybody likes to submit to but dislikes to commit or commit to, or do it by reverse. It is the very crime Jesus Christ committed; telling the authorities (the Pharisees, the Sadducees, the Scribes) the truth. And telling it as it is: Nothing But The Truth! For me, I do it likewise but like this — maybe unwise: When I see my boss standing on a dirty ground, I click his boots to alert or warn and then please them, perhalps. Alas, some others lick those boots in order to win and appease the Big Man, hence making them classify me a bad man. That does not spare them my similar labeling, either. For what do you call a man who licks another man’s boots? Call it a bootlicker but mine is a ‘mad man’! Whatever method, bootlicking or boot-clicking, all lead to building the new nation, different methods, different results.

The late Karbino's boarding pass that remained in my hand at Juba international Airport as he mysteriously disappeared before we checked in to leave the country after surviving a series of threats in Juba.

The late Karbino’s boarding pass that remained in my hand at Juba international Airport as he mysteriously disappeared before we checked in to leave the country after surviving a series of threats in Juba.

The last but more immediate reason is the death of my fellow ‘boot-clickers’, probably fallen prey to bootlickers. The first one to mysteriously disappear just after our meeting in Juba last November(2012) is Modeses Wiyual Manytap. It is too early to call him ‘the late’. But it is too late not to call my dear colleague, The Late Kerubino Kollen Zullo. He died on the 30th anniversary of our liberation struggle in 2013, while ‘chasing after’ an elusive peace in Pibor County. But that, his death, is a lie. He disappeared on his way to Juba International Airport on January 31, 2013, leaving me stranded on the check-in counter with his boarding pass and other documents in my hand, and an empty seat by my side en route to Kenya. I escaped the right way, but my civil society group chairman (Kolen) did it the wrong way. No, he did not do it that way, he was done it the wrong way. Perhaps forced to travel to Pibor under duress and later reported singled out among the Murle peacemaking committee and shot dead by Yau-Yau rebels. Full story in the Part II of this exposition or on this link: http://thejongleijongleur.wordpress.com/2013/05/29/condemning-the-murder-and-calling-for-investigation-to-the-death-of-our-chairman-kerubino-kollen-zullo/.

In conclusion to this part, which is an inclusion or introduction to the next part, be ready to go through the whole journey of my series of serious life-threatening escapades in the next post or page. It kicks off with this:

Today, May 3, 2013, is a World Press Freedom Day. However, to me, it is a World Press Free-damn Day! Not because Michael Koma was arrested yesterday and Alfred Taban is going to be rearrested today. The Lent (Easter) season climaxed at the end of March but my Easter season climaxes at the end of April, 2013. Why? On April 26, 2006, I was drugged and dragged out of my hostel at Makerere University, Uganda, but released on April 29, 2006, actually on a Friday (Click this link for a full story published those days: . This makes me mark every last Friday of April (such as Friday 26 April 2013) my Good Friday. Followed by my White Sunday and then a Good Monday, April 29, 2013, the day I was given back my life by one of the kidnappers who protested being cheated by his accomplices and also not having been paid on time by my enemy (name withheld till tomorrow) in Mabira Forest that night. After the kidnapping in 2006 is the stabbing in 2007 that drove me out of the Uganda’s top university, hitherto. Then the day after the 29th, seven years later, is when a friend sneaked me out of my hideout in Juba to where I am today. I will not tell you where…! Please, do not ask me why. For more details about who perpetrated or perpetuated, including the ‘brothers’ who frustrated, my problems, read the final report leaked upto 70% and broken up into stages and periods as follows!

However, before you click this link to the next real confession, read the following poems (coming up shortly) from my other poetry title: AssAssiNation!
1- Kollen Has Fallen!
2- The Yahoo-Yahoo Rabbles.

NB: To see why my scarecrows should not crow at me every time there is death at my neighbourhood, click the following link to the story of how I survived the stabbing and kidnapping in Kampala in 2006 and 2007, respectively (Page 9 of the PDF)…JST0404_Issue9new