The sun rose over the City of Djouba, South Sudan. As was his custom, Bilal Akol rose with it. Six feet three inches tall, lean and muscular, with skin of a rich mahogany hue, the young South Sudanese Muslim man rolled out his prayer rug, and began his prayer. He thanked the Most High for allowing him to wake up, and after finishing his prayer, he got ready to face the day.
All his life, Bilal had done the same thing. His father Mohammed Akol raised him to be a good Muslim, taking him to Jummah prayer at the local mosque every Friday. Although Islam had a controversial history among the South Sudanese people, many of whom saw it as the religion of their Arab oppressors, Bilal was most definitely a proud Muslim.
"We fought to free ourselves from the Sudanese Arabs, and now all we do is fight each other," said Bilal's good friend Bior, as the two of them began the long trek to the nearby well with big, heavy gourds slung over their shoulders. Life in the desert was far from easy. Still, it was better than the alternative, to live under the yoke of the Sudanese Arabs, who saw the South Sudanese as little more than cattle.
"Please, brother, not the political stuff, not this early in the morning," Bilal replied, and Bior rolled his eyes. The two best friends had known each other since their halcyon days at Rumbek, where they grew up. They were young enough to be part of the future of South Sudan, and old enough to remember how the Sudanese Arabs treated their parents, and their grandparents. Colorism and racism at their worst, Bilal thought bitterly.
Even now, the fact that Bilal was a Muslim and Bior followed the traditional African beliefs, a form of polytheism mixed with animism, kind of made people do a double take whenever they saw them together. South Sudan was not just the youngest nation in the world, it was also a religiously diverse nation. Christianity, Islam, and traditional African beliefs, all three were part of the makeup of the nation.
In the Republic of South Sudan, different ethnic and religious groups were once more at each others throats, now that they did not have to worry about oppression from the Sudanese Arabs. Bilal and Bior were too smart to fall for such bullshit, and that was one of the many reasons their friendship endured. As far as Bilal was concerned, South Sudanese from all walks of life should unite to keep their nation viable.
The City of Djouba lay in a mountainous, arid region of South Sudan, and there were many problems with the metropolis. Potable water was an issue, as was electricity, and there was quite a bit of lawlessness in this harsh environment. The local police force could barely handle patrolling the city streets, as they were underfunded, and undermanned. Once upon a time, Bilal hoped to become a police officer, like his grandfather, former national police captain Amir Akol. Sadly, it did not seem like it was meant to be.
Fate has never been kind to me, Bilal thought to himself as he and Bior walked a few kilometers outside the City of Djouba, where there was a dearth of water. An ancient well located further down in the valley had to be full of water, considering the rains from a few days ago. Bilal felt he ought to be in university, or at the police academy, not foraging for water in the wilderness outside Djouba like his ancestors probably did in the olden days. He was still lamenting when he saw something which caught his attention...
"Hey, Bior, my brother, look this way, do you see that over there?" Bilal asked, pointing to a lone figure in the distance, and the two men resolutely walked in that direction. Bior and Bilal raced toward the stumbling figure, and just as they got near, the figure fell. As they neared, they saw that it was a woman, one with fair skin and a disheveled appearance. Oh, and there was also the matter of her bloody face.
"Hmm, she looks Arab, probably from Egypt, although I do not think she could have crossed the desert on foot from the border, " Bior stated, as Bilal picked up the comely young woman in his arms. Bilal dropped his gourds prior to picking up the fallen woman, and Bior groaned as he grabbed them. The two young men hurried back to Djouba, and got their hapless find some water. Bilal gently splashed water over the young woman face, and she finally opened her eyes.
"Where am I?" said the young woman, and she looked at Bilal, a frantic look in her brown eyes. Bilal looked at the Arab-looking young woman and paused, for he recognized the distinct Egyptian accent. She was not one of those Sudanese Arabs, the traditional enemies of the South Sudanese people. Those devils who hated his kind simply because they were darker-skinned.
"My name is Bilal, and you are in Djouba, South Sudan," the young man said, and he helped the young Arab woman get to her feet. Bior and Bilal half-carried her to the nearest building, which happened to house the gendarmerie. As far as Bilal was concerned, the gendarmerie were useless, but the uniformed men took one look at who he had in his arms, and offered to help. Thankfully, a few of them had first-aid training, which helped...
"Shukran, thank you for saving my life, I am Nadia Ghaffar," the young woman said, speaking to Captain Garang from the Djouba military casern. Bilal and Bior stood nearby, along with a couple of young South Sudanese men in military garb. The Arab gal looked at Bilal as she spoke, and flashed him a meek smile. Bilal nodded, and kind of blushed. He was thankful for the young lady gratitude, but hanging out at the military station was not his idea of fun. He wanted to get the hell out of there, and Bior seemed to feel the same way...
"Salaam, sister, you are welcome, I wish you the best, my friend Bior and I will just let ourselves out," Bilal replied, and he walked away, as Captain Garang looked at him, a dubious look on her face. The two young men headed out of the military station. Bior flashed Bilal a wry grin and the young man cocked an eyebrow, wondering what his erstwhile best friend was getting at.
"Bilal, you dog, I saw the way that Arab lady, Nadia, looked at you," Bior said, laughing and Bilal rolled his eyes. The two of them went back to the well with their heavy gourds, and brought it back to their compound. There were easier things in life than walking several kilometers to get water from a well, but the two of them were broke as heck.
"Bior, you seem to like every woman you see, Hmm, perhaps you should join my Islamic religion, we allow up to four wives, you know," Bilal said, as he grabbed his buddy by the shoulder. Bior shook his head vehemently, and Bilal rolled his eyes. Bilal knew that Bior would never leave his traditional African religion, not even for all the women in the world. Makes it fun to tease him, Bilal thought with a wicked grin.
After cooking the meal that served as their breakfast and lunch combo, Bilal and Bior went about their day. Bilal went to Al Dawah, the local Islamic school, and taught from the holy book to young men from his faith. This he did for four hours, and it was the highlight of his day.
Afterwards, Bilal went to the marketplace, volunteering his services as a cart lad, earning banknotes totalling twenty five South Sudanese pounds for his efforts from an old lady named Mariam. He thanked her profusely, and then left her house after helping her unload her purchases. Bilal would have called Bior but he did not have any minutes left on his cell phone. Ah, the perks of being a broke brother in South Sudan...
Bilal made his way home, and waited for Bior to return. The two-bedroom flat that they rented on Mal Meninga Street, in a rather seedy side of metropolitan Djouba. Bior came home, with ten pounds from his work as a day laborer with the local waste management company. The two best friends spent the rest of the evening talking while sipping tea, then Bilal read his favorite holy book, then retired to his room and went to bed.
As Bilal lay on his bed, he thought about all the twists and turns his life had taken. His parents, Mohammed and Fatima Akol were in the City of Akobo, on the other side of South Sudan. They were dirt-poor, and of an advanced age. Every couple of weeks, Bilal sent them some money via western union. Bilal wanted to save some money to study at the University of Juba. Once there, Bilal would study Criminal Justice and maybe get into the national police force...
The next day, Friday, Bilal went to the local mosque, where his favorite Imam, Sheikh Omar Jambo, was scheduled to preach. The old preacher was once close friends with Mohammed Akol, father of Bilal. Bilal went to wash his hands and feet, at the cleansing basin, as was customary for all brothers and sisters prior to entering the prayer area. Before he could enter, however, he got a surprise...
"Salaam, brother, they told me I might find you here," came a feminine voice, startling the hell out of Bilal as he stood in front of the cleansing area. Bilal turned around, and found himself facing...her. It was the young Arab woman from the day before, Nadia something or other. Considering she looked half-dead the last time he saw her, Nadia looked pretty good. There were still a few bruises on her lovely face, that was about it...
"As Salaam Alaikum, sister," Bilal replied, a bit surprised to find Nadia standing before him. The young woman smiled at him in a beatific, kind of strange manner. This lady is beautiful but seems to be a bit troubled, I wonder where her family is, Bilal thought, nodding gently at Nadia. There was something altogether unsettling about her tracking him down to his favorite mosque...
"I wanted to come by and thank you, I am Nadia, what is your name?" Nadia asked, and Bilal inclined his head, then introduced himself. In the Islamic world, regardless of race or culture, the teachings of the Prophet, Heaven rest his soul, urged Muslim men to respect Muslim women, and to show kindness to their fellow Muslims and help them in times of distress.
