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Poem
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT 
I know of a place
A place so rich and fertile 
A place with green trees
With the sweet scent of nature
And the beauty of wildlife
With elegant tall black men and women 
The strongest people I have ever known 
A place gifted with so many dialects 
But with one common language of love
A place whose immense beauty
The Ades, the Deng Afrikas, the Tatas
The Piols, the Tuulas, the Aliets want to show
A place rich of cultures and traditions 
Whose history is worth celebrating 
A place whose citizens have one common goal 
And that ultimate goal is black brotherhood 

Yet,  it's the very same place 
Where uncle is the most used vocabulary 
Uncle is the basis of employment
Uncle has won cases at the courts of law
He has covered up for murderers 
Uncle has created orphans and widows
He has grabbed their land,  
Leaving them homeless 
A place where the youth dropout of school to pick arms
Where Night movement is still a threat to the youth
I hear they call themselves with comical names
The old school,  Mob Gang,  Steel Boys
With the infamous slogan “Panga gatar rhas”
I have watched them spoil their future
And they're hopeless for tomorrow 

I know of a place
Where James Lado, a twelve year old boy 
Cannot spend thirty minutes without smoking cigarettes 
He sleeps in the clubs by beer bottles
Lado has run away from home
And Deng,  that Sa’uud will kill you ya aku
A place where Kiden leaves the 
house at 7:00am
Only to return at midnight 
Too drunk to even untie her shoes
Her children are starving and thirsty 
But Listen pays no attention 
When I hear Taata cry, I say unto her
Cry no more Taata,  for we no longer see the redness of blood

I have heard the women of this place lament 
Mwonydiea acha Nyan wee Kek abeer  koor nyiin apyea 
I have heard the children cry
Baba achi ook nyang nyinn ngongich
Ye nga bi ook lok yath panabun 
Abuk is the shisha lady who wakes up at midnight to smoke
While Duku is dead asleep on the bed

I know of a place, where the cynical politicians blackmail the citizens 
A place where the peace negotiators prolong the talks
For they will be unemployed when the peace arrives
A place where the national army survives on charcoal sales
A place where you will be grabbed by the neck, for daring to say the trutth
A place where the bullets, are the unwanted music to the ears
The leaders invite war for the youth
To them,  power is worth more than countless lives
The citizens have killed the past,   And there is no light at the end of the tunnel
And that place happens to be my beautiful country, South Sudan
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