Race Relations in South Sudan, Africa No. 1

So…

The other day, I saw a middle aged white woman in the hotel office and heard that she did not have an Australian nor British accent and was interested to know who she was. But, I was not able to say hello as she seemed to move fast and had disappeared by the time I had run to throw away some trash and come back to the office. I saw here again two days later in the hotel restaurant with a group of South Sudanese men and it looked as if she was conducting some sort of training so, I did not interrupt. She was definitely from America and it’s always good to connect with fellow Americans when living outside of the country; so I thought.

Anyway, I walked “home” from wherever I was coming from and met her at the security gate just the other day. I spoke to her and introduced myself. She said hello and at the same time began a conversation in Dinka (showing off and not knowing that I understood every word) with some of the guys at the gate; one of which was the Mayor of Bor. Earlier that day, he’d given me a ride to the market and over the past 4 months, we’ve learned a lot about one another. Like he knows that I have three children and one grandchild and I know that he has two wives and a newborn. Every time he greets me, it’s in a booming voice, “Mon Malou! How are you? How are the children?” So, needless to say, once the woman began to speak to him, I stood by to listen to the conversation because I wanted to know if they were acquainted. They were not.

This woman greeted him in Dinka and he responded with a short but appropriate greeting. She then asked him in English, “So where are you from? Surely you’re not from Juba.” The Mayor responded, “No…I’m from here…from Juba.” She pressed, “No…you sure you’re not from Rumbek or Bar al Ghazal?” The Mayor stuck with, “I’m from Juba.” She finally relented and then began to pay attention to me as I laughed out loud at the entire exchange. She wanted to know what was so funny but, I only smiled and said nothing. I’ve definitely mastered the art of silence! If the Mayor wasn’t saying anything, I wasn’t either.

When all the men had walked away, she invited me to sit down with her by the pool. It was then I learned her name, Carol (and she totally resembles Carol from TWD!). Being the AfriCAN woman I’ve become, I asked her if she wanted anything to drink (water, beer, wine, soda). She said beer so, I went and got one. When I returned, we began a very interesting and annoying conversation. Annoying because instead of learning all the rudimentary things about me (where I’m from, how many children I have, ect.) she dove in head first with questioning me belonging in South Sudan. I combated her questions with questions instead.

It turned out that Carol was from Canada and held a PhD in sociology. She’s lived in Sudan (before the split) for seven years and off and on in South Sudan for another seven years. Our conversation annoyed me from the outset because I realized immediately that I was dealing with someone who suffered from white privilege and was clueless and disinterested in my thoughts and opinions as a Black woman.

“So, what are you doing in South Sudan?” she asked. When I told her that I was living here as a regular civilian and not working for an NGO, she balked. “Nobody simply lives here.” she stated with an irritated edge to her voice. I let her know that I AM SOMEBODY who is simply living in Juba, South Sudan.

She then began asking more questions the way only white people do….(Y’all can stop reading now because I will be painting with a broad brush from here on and it may offend you and I don’t want to lose any of my white friends in the process. J):

"So where are you from in the States?
What type of work do you do?
Who’s your husband?
What area is he from?
Is he Dinka?
Is his last name Thiik or Kuol?
Why are you really in South Sudan?
Have you gotten Malaria yet?"

I was expecting questions like: 1. Where did you attend school? 2. What’s your field of study? 3. How has your family reacted to your moving so far away? Instead, she went all in on a more personal and political level and I just wanted to have a simple conversation in English. I was annoyed but did not let her see or hear it. Instead of answering all her Curious George-like questions, I asked her why she was in Juba. She then eagerly launched into a response like only a white privileged female PhD holder would….

“Well…when I was in my 20s, I lived in Khartoum for seven years. I’m a sociologist and I’ve enjoyed studying about Sudan and now South Sudan. After completing my BA, I went on to receive my PhD and traveled back and forth over the years. (blah, blah, blah)

You know Juba is nice when it’s nice but, understand that there is war and when it’s bad, it’s really bad. What will you do if things get bad? You shouldn’t walk by yourself.” (the shit scared white women say when living among black folk)

It was that comment that nearly caused me to spit like the country girls do here. I’ve been so sick and tired of the misuse of the term war to describe what’s currently going on in South Sudan. So I told her, “We have shootings and killings every day in cities in the US and we don’t call it war. I grew up in a city that was the murder capital per-capita and I’ve not heard gunfire but once since I’ve been here. The mass shootings by white men is not called war where I’m from and when Black and Brown folk shoot up people we call it gang-banging and thuggery. There are horrible events that take place in Europe and Asia but, we don’t call it war. Why must we continue to call the violence in South Sudan war. There are no bombs going off, no warplanes flying in the air, no daily casualties of said war (in Juba that is…I can’t speak on the bush areas). Why describe it as war?”

To this she said, “My friend, there are x-million refugees living in Uganda, and x-million in Kenya as a result of what you refuse to call a war. And you cannot compare what’s going on in the US to South Sudan.”

At which point I rebutted, “Yes, I can. The refugees have been in said countries for a couple of years and refuse to go back because they’re being feed, sheltered and educated without having to work.”

Then this sociologist went on to tell me about my husband’s tribe, “You know, it’s the Dinka who created all this. Juba was once full of Equitorians and the Dinka from where your husband is from are the ones who started all this.”

My response, “Like when the British and French went to America and moved Native Americans off their land? Or when the British went to Australia and caused unimaginable harm to the Aborigines?”

I wanted her to know that she was not dealing with an ignorant Negro but an educated one!

“Yes, the Dinka have played a role in the causation of problems  witnessed today and they are also mainly responsible for the liberation of the South Sudanese from their Arab oppressors. It’s why Australians and Americans can’t and won’t accept blame for all the past woes they caused the natives…they were also heroes in other people’s eyes because they fought back and gained independence and freedom “for all”. And just like in the US, when the British rebelled against their King, in their quest for liberty, they trampled on the rights of the people already free.” I let her know that I did not agree with how things have turned out and at the same time, I understood how things got the way they are currently.

Irked by my analogy, she continued to press me on a few other topics like my abhorrence to the term war, what I planned to do should violence break out in Juba again, and how I was going to continue to live in Juba if I didn’t work for an international NGO.  Instead of answering her questions, I questioned her (something that I usually don’t do). Both of us a bit agitated, we finally reached a stalemate and decided to jump in the pool for an evening swim.

After I’d completed a few laps she said, “You’re a pretty good swimmer.” It was all I could do to just keep quiet because in my mind I said, “Heffa! You wouldn’t have said that to a white woman. How are you a sociologist with a PhD and still so uneducated?” But the ancestors were with me and I just took a few more laps and remained silent.

So two days ago, I was footing (walking) towards the main road and Carol passed by in her vehicle. I waved and she did not wave back. “No biggy…maybe she didn’t see me.” was the only thought that crossed my mind. But, I saw her today inside the hotel restaurant and as I entered, I greeted her. She simply waved and said nothing else to me. At this point, it was clear that she was not at all interested in Saree Mading and that I need not try any further to befriend her: Carol’s loss.

What’s sad is that I’m in South Sudan, Africa experiencing such blatant race-based behaviors. I mean how naive I must be to think that I was going to have a nice friendly conversation with an American (even though she’s from Canada) and be able to make a few cultural connections.

Unfortunately, the cultural connections made were the ones that I thought I’d left behind when I moved here: white women feeling superior, white women thinking they know more about African culture than me because they’ve studied it, white women ignoring the brilliance I bring because they’re actually intimidated. I’ve not thought this much about race and had no idea that I’d be thinking this much about race since moving here.

Black people!!!! Africans love us. They look up to us. They treasure the friendships we create. Africans do not hate us. They are sometimes disappointed with us because education is free in the US and they must pay and yet we have so many of our youth who aren’t educated to the level of expectation they’ve set for us. They are frustrated that you don’t come and open businesses, buy property, and vacation with them. They are puzzled by the fact that you believe that they don’t like you. It’s so complicated and all I can say is get your passport together and come visit! It’s easier for us to come to them than it is for them to come to us. Please show the Carols of the world that we are just as interested in the 50+ nations we call Africa and are able to be accepted in ways that she will never be once we visit. Please make it your goal to visit an African nation before the end of 2018 and if you need a suggestion on where to start:

1. Ghana (West Africa)
2. Uganda (East Africa)
3. South Africa (South Africa)

Left out North Africa on purpose because I believe that Sub-Saharan Africa should be your first stop! Just come and visit!!