JUBA – “Children do not belong in war. Children belong in schools. Children belong in homes. Children belong in safe communities.”
Listening to the powerful words of youth activist Allan Kudumoch, it’s hard to imagine the 21-year-old having ever felt powerless. But behind his strong expression, lays vast, unspeakable experiences:
“I know this because I was forcibly taken away from my own home when I was just eight years old. That was the day my childhood ended.”
Following the death of his father when he was only seven, he found safety in his elderly grandmother’s home in Likuangole. Until armed forces came and took him away.
“In the bush, together with other children, we went through experiences no child should ever know. We went for days without food. We carried guns taller than ourselves. We walked long distances looking for water and food for soldiers. We cooked for them. We sang and paraded at night instead of sleeping. We were denied school, denied care, denied love, and denied the right to be children,” he recalls, still shivering from the hardship he was forced to endure.
Nights were the hardest – cold and filled with fear.
“I would wake up with a salty white layer on my face from tears that had dried overnight. I remember wishing that things could be different but feeling completely hopeless. I saw children die. I saw soldiers die. I believed I would never have a normal life again.”
Until one day came with an opportunity for freedom. Some of the more senior people at the training center where he was held had been tasked with obtaining supplies from Pibor town. Although he was not part of the original group tasked, he used contacts he had built over the years to ensure his participation.
In Pibor town, he distanced himself from the group and identified a hiding spot in nearby bushes that, despite their best efforts, prevented the other members from finding him.
Still, reporting what happened to him and asking for help was another risk he needed to consider carefully, after years of not trusting anyone.
“One morning, I decided to choose courage over fear. That decision changed my life. I received psychosocial support. I felt safe. I felt cared for. For the first time in many years, I felt like a child again. And most importantly, I could dream again.”
His dream was simple: go back to school. Thanks to the support of international organizations and local partners like GREDO, the ambitious student is now living this dream and pursuing a degree in Social Work at the University of Juba.
“Education gave me back the power that war had taken from me. I stand here today because someone chose to act. My goal is to dedicate my life to giving the same chance to other children,” explains the motivated activist.
Until now, he never understood the fight he was trained to participate in. What he does understand better than most is the power of a purpose that is bigger than oneself.
“Never ever lose hope for your dreams. Because life can completely change from one to another minute and your dream might be the only thing that saves you.”
By Jaella Brockmann
