1986-07-14 visit to the West bank

Luis and I had decided to pay a visit to Kajo-Keji and Yei. Luis is a soft-spoken colleague with
often a dreamy look about him. To say the least, he is somewhat laid back. I am not sure he has
any expectations of our journey apart, perhaps, from escaping the confines of Juba. I myself
hope to get an idea of the general situation and to get to know somewhat better our parishes in
the area and their potential for development work. The road will be rough and full of potholes; it
requires concentrated driving to avoid them and to save the shock absorbers. There will not be
much chance to admire the landscape that about 75 years earlier was described by no less than
Winston Churchill as “presenting splendid and alluring panoramas”.
Formerly there was a direct road straight South from Juba to Kajo-Keji, more or less parallel to
the Nile that on this stretch sports several spectacular rapids. But this road deteriorated so much
that it is being reclaimed by the jungle. So nowadays it is better to take the Southwest road to Yei
and about 30 miles before Yei to double back in a Southeast direction. The former short road was
about 120 km, the longer one takes 270 km.
Traveling needs a travel permit from an organ that is called State Security. Once when I wanted
to go to Lirya, 40 miles East of Juba, the Northern officer I had to deal with asked for my reason
to travel. My answer, that I wanted to visit development projects of the church, elicited the blunt
reaction that there was no church there and, eyeing the expiry date of my visa, he recommended I
would do better to start packing. This time Luis conveniently recognizes somebody of his tribe
and in between exchanging the news the permit is rather quickly written in flowing Arabic with
an impressive stamp on top. These permits are intended to protect the State from snooping
foreigners but have no connection with the security on the road of said foreigners. It is up to the
soldiers or police officers who man the road blocks, to close their road if they have reason to
believe there is something amiss further afield.
Around 10 a.m. this Friday morning July 4 we had overcome the obstacles in town and had
arrived at the first road block at the outskirts. This block transpired to be occupied by both army
and police. So our State Security permit had to be studied twice and the details of our journey
were recorded in both the army and police book. The soldier and police officer sat next to each
other which enabled them to record our data practically simultaneously. But still, the patience
with which Luis sat out the procedure was no doubt a help to improve his life expectancy, more
than I did mine.
Eight miles out of Juba we passed Kojur. One month earlier the place had been crowded: men
resting in UNHCR tents or under the few trees and women standing in line around a water
tanker. They had been Ugandans in transit back home after they had fled from the SPLA
terrorising them in their refugee camps on the East Bank . But now the place was once again
empty. Thirty km further on we reached the village of Kakoada. The SPLA had passed here three
weeks ago and rumor in Juba had it that they had burnt the whole village. In reality only a few
huts in the centre had been destroyed. Unfortunately one of these belonged to Euro Action
Accord. This British NGO had hit on the idea to help people make long lasting grass roofs by
importing a short-time consultant-cum-expert of British thatched roofs. The claim was that
superior British technology guaranteed a grass roof that would last at least 30 years – the life of
the demonstration roof he had just built had been more like 30 days. “Serves Accord well”, I
thought grimly. Still further we saw a new very crowded camp of displaced. They were from the
Wundurba area about 30 km to the North where the same group of SPLA that had hampered
Accord in its good works had passed through. These people had run to the ‘safety’ of the main
road and clearly hoped to return home soon.
At around 3 p.m. we arrived at the junction Yei – Kajo-Keji. The policeman at the road block
was already quite drunk and initially refused to let us through. However once he discovered we
had some kind of connection with the church he mollified. So we were off again into a very
sparsely populated area.
It was past 7 p.m. when we reached the road block at the entrance of Kajo-Keji. Here again there
was drunkenness, shouting and cocking of guns which abruptly stopped when they discovered
that we were going to the mission. Now they even advised us to leave the army alone until the
next morning as that might be a more propitious time to hand over our travel permit.
Though the Italian missionaries had not been aware of our coming they gave us a warm
welcome. From Mario’s stories we discovered that Kajo-Keji had not been as quiet as people in
Juba thought. An obscure Ugandan tribe has made it a custom to regularly cross the border to
steel cattle. And according to Ezio an SPLA group recently crossed the Nile from the East bank.
It proceeded a few days ago to rob Mundikolo, the refugee camp 10 km away from Kajo-Keji
towards Yei and then they proceeded to rob the Anglican pastor living still nearer to the town. In
fact Ezio appears a bit disappointed about this implied religious discrimination by the SPLA and
is almost hoping to meet them soon.
Another piece of interesting information we hear is that 760 refugees arrived yesterday in town
in 13 lorries. They are the last contingent of those who fled the East bank and were settled in
Kojur for a few weeks. They were supposed to have been repatriated to Uganda today. However,
before their leaving UNHCR had given them a food ration for 30 days so that today they had
been too drunk to be handled. They are also reputed to be the most difficult group, doubting
whether it is a good thing to go back to their own country. UNHCR has now planned the
repatriation for tomorrow.
When the next morning we go to the army to report our presence we see there a small Suzuki
pick-up ready to go after the cattle thieves. It speeds off with four armed soldiers in the back. It
is already riddled with bullet holes; hopefully this battle-hardened condition may act as a
deterrent in case the robbers, hidden in the tall grass of the season, see it approaching.
Just before we leave for Yei on Sunday morning a catechist arrives at the mission with the
message that last night the SPLA visited Konsuk, a refugee camp 30 km towards Yei; they
looted, shot one man and abducted two girls. When we go to the army for our permit there is no
visible excitement here; perhaps military intelligence is today lagging behind the church
information network. However, the 13 lorries have returned from Uganda and so there is quite a
bit of hearty paper work going on with all these travel permits. Luis and I are not unduly worried
about meeting the SPLA on the road; we feel that as church personnel we are kind of above all
parties and respected by all. At the exit of Kajo-Keji I take time to drive up a steep rocky hill; on
top there is said to be a stone building that dates from the colonial time. And indeed: a nice little
building though roof, windows and doors have disappeared long ago. Above the door opening
there is even a saying in Latin engraved in the lintel. I forget to jot it down; shall I ever see it
again to redress my carelessness?
On the road we meet many people from Konsuk going to Kajo-Keji. They carry their belongings
in bundles and cartons on the head, sometimes also a mattress. But their greatest wealth, the crop
in the fields, is left behind. At around 4 p.m. we have without mishap done the 120 km to Yei.
The road was so bad that a girl who came with us from Kali refugee camp vomited in the car.
She is a student in Lutaya senior secondary self-help school and had gone home to collect some
food. Yei is quiet and if the number of bicycles on sale in the shops is a good indicator it could
well be the richest town in the South.
When we reach the parish center there is no lodging problem at all: parish priest Dada runs a
guesthouse and it is clearly his most important development project: with gusto he mentions the
various improvements he wants to install if he finds a donor. My friend Joke who works for the
UN in Juba told me that one time, when spending the night here, persistent knocking and female
whispering woke her up. When she answered that she was a woman herself she got the cocky
question ‘does it matter?’.
That Sunday evening the BBC reported that the UN had started two air bridges to Juba, one from
Khartoum and the other from Entebbe, to bring in food. Relief food used to be trucked all the
way from Mombasa to Juba but for weeks now these lorries have been stopped in Uganda and
now, predictably, hunger has set in in Juba. The BBC did not mention now that air bridges too
have their problems. Last week, when we were leaving Juba, the EC had stopped its part of the
bridge because Sudan Airways refused to guarantee that there would be no army supplies in its
relief planes – and of course the EC wanted its relief operation to be neutral.
Here in Yei I now heard the theory that the misbehaviour of the SPLA towards the Ugandan
refugees was instigated by the Ugandan government: it can only help the international standing
of Museveni – in power since less than half a year – if the refugees return home and besides any
armed opposition that might brew in the refugee camps can be much better controlled once such
elements are back in their home land. In return John Garang of the SPLA can only benefit from a
friendly neighbouring government
On Wednesday we went back to Juba. The road had suffered more from the combined effects of
rains and lorries and it took us six hours. The next day the parish priest of Rejaf on the East bank
came to our office looking for help. Last night the SPLA came to one of his villages, Sindiru
Popo, and tortured and raped to such a degree that people were fleeing now to Rejaf. Samuel
says that 270 have arrived already and still counting. On the East bank where there are no
Ugandan refugees left the situation seems to go from anarchy to terror for the local people.

Churchill, W. (2015) My African Journey, CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform. ISBN

978-1515035985, p.60