Limbo Over Area’s Status Heightens Suffering in South Sudan

TEREKEKA, South Sudan — In the shade of a fishing supply store by the river’s edge, a group of young men has little to do but chat, drink glasses of sugary milk and wait for trucks that rarely arrive.

Alfred Lado, 29, and his friends used to earn cash by unloading goods transported from Juba, the capital of South Sudan^[1], about 50 miles to the south. But after civil war broke out^[2] in December 2013, trade was disrupted, and the trucks grew scarce.

“There are no jobs, no good food and nothing to work on,” Mr. Lado said.

The brutal war cost tens of thousands of lives and displaced more than two million people. But in April, Riek Machar, South Sudan’s rebel leader and former vice president, returned to Juba^[3] to become deputy to his wartime rival, President Salva Kiir, as part of a transitional government.

That fragile peace could bring the traders back to Terekeka. But first, the formerly warring parties must agree on what Terekeka is: a county or a state.

The parties agreed to a peace deal^[4] in August, but Mr. Kiir threw a wrench into its implementation in October when he announced the formation^[5] of 28 states instead of the 10 that had existed before. The capital’s state, Central Equatoria, for example, was divided into Yei, Jubek and Terekeka.

The rebels cried foul, arguing that Mr. Kiir had divvied up the land in ways that favored members of the Dinka ethnic group, of which he is a member.

Yet the president moved quickly to make his decree a reality. Governors and ministers were appointed in December to manage each of the new states, even though South Sudan’s roster of officials and civil servants was already bloated. Because of a sharp decline in oil revenue in recent years, most government workers have not been paid in months.

The president’s decree has left Terekeka in limbo. Members of what used to be known as the county government still roam the dusty roads in a roaring convoy of four-by-fours, while civilians struggle to survive on small plots of land, unsure of which officials will represent their interests.

Terekeka, which covers about 4,000 square miles, is also home to the Mundari ethnic group, whose members are known for their reliance on the Ankole-Watusi, a species of large cows with long, curved horns.

Farmers, who live in small mud huts without electricity, complain that their harvests of sorghum, ground nuts and beans have been meager after disappointing rains. And as inflation jumps, the prices of basic goods are rising too fast for families to keep up. Poverty, food insecurity and child mortality are rampant all across this chronically undeveloped country.

Mr. Lado would like Terekeka to remain a state, but hesitates to endorse the idea fully.

“It isn’t recognized yet by the international community,” he said. “We don’t know whether the president’s decision is going to be reversed.”

Since 2011, when South Sudan became the world’s youngest country^[6], Terekeka has seen its share of conflicts over resources, often pitting the Mundari against the Dinka and other ethnic groups.

The capital, Terekeka town, is a three-hour drive from Juba along a deeply rutted dirt road. It sits just west of where the White Nile River unravels into a web of interlocking tributaries, and is the midway point between the capital and the conflict-scarred town of Bor.

The town’s main drag is not much longer than a football field. Mundari and Dinka people mingle here, but many of the small shops are run by foreigners, including Ugandans and Ethiopians. Local eateries serve mostly bread and beans, though they sometimes run out of both.

The only substantial buildings belong to the government, sporting South Sudanese flags that hang motionless in the stifling heat.

They include the cement block primary schools on the edge of town, where a dedicated team of teachers is struggling to adapt the curriculum from Arabic into English. They say they have no idea when their backlog of unpaid salaries will be addressed.

The new governor, Juma Ali Malou, has an air-conditioned office in Juba and stays in a lodge when he visits Terekeka. He says the area has potential for oil exploration and agricultural development. He also envisions turning the riverside town into a tourist attraction, even though it has barely any infrastructure, no paved roads and no electricity except from privately owned generators.

The governor’s deputy and information minister both resigned in May, accusing Mr. Ali of nepotism and misuse of funds.

During South Sudan’s civil war, Terekeka experienced clashes for only a few days. It was spared the scale of atrocities that befell Juba, where the conflict ^[7]began^[8], and Bor, where territorial battles led to massacres of civilians^[9].

But in recent months, the announcement of statehood has caused problems here. On May 7, a flag-raising ceremony in Mongalla, a county that borders Terekeka but now falls within the boundaries of Jubek, was interrupted by armed assailants over a territorial dispute. Four people died.

Supporters of Mr. Kiir’s decree remain adamant. James Mori, 37, a farmer and civil servant, argued that a localized government system could make officials more accountable. “If the government is big at the top and small at the bottom, that’s not good,” he said.

For the moment, the United Nations does not formally recognize the 28 states, said Ellen Margrethe Loj, the head of the United Nations mission in South Sudan.

“It’s very clear that there are challenges around the country in relation to how the borders have been drawn in the 28-states proposal, and that has led to ethnic tensions,” she added, singling out the areas around Malakal in the north.

It will be up to the transitional government to reach an agreement on these borders. A 15-member committee was formed this month to decide on the division of states by the beginning of July.

But confusion still reigns. Supporters of the president say the committee exists only to redraw the 28 states’ borders, while opponents say a return to the 10-state system is on the table.

Terekeka’s residents hope that whoever is left in charge of their area will bring development soon.

“People at the grass-roots level are very happy about the creation of this state,” Mr. Mori said. “But the top politicians don’t care about the people here. They are complicating everything.”

References

1. ^{^} More articles about South Sudan. (topics.nytimes.com)
2. ^{^} Times article. (www.nytimes.com)
3. ^{^} Times article. (www.nytimes.com)
4. ^{^} Times article. (www.nytimes.com)
5. ^{^} Associated Press brief. (www.nytimes.com)
6. ^{^} Times article. (www.nytimes.com)
7. ^{^} Times article. (www.nytimes.com)
8. ^{^} Times article. (www.nytimes.com)
9. ^{^} Times article. (www.nytimes.com)