* Any views expressed in this opinion piece are those of the author and not of Thomson Reuters Foundation.
By Dave Husy
Plan International Australia Programs Director Dave Husy was in Juba, South Sudan, for Saturday’s independence ceremony.
It’s a beautiful morning as we congregate outside our lodgings for the trip across town to the Independence Day parade. Anticipating a scorcher, we all have water, food, and sunscreen to excess. The temperature is above 30 degrees Celsius before 9am, and our suits and ties are already looking damp.
Approaching the parade ground, harried and tired policemen direct us this way and that, but the line snakes inexorably to the entrance to John Garang’s mausoleum – the venue for the parade. It’s an appropriate entry point to remind everyone of the struggle to reach this day, and of fallen heroes who kept it alive.
We’re lucky; being early earns us our choice of seat - front and centre, and with a view over the crowd. Later guests are directed to their places, VIPs in the shade and lesser luminaries in the sun. Needless to say in this crowd we’re in the sun. No matter, this is a day where the weather is a background detail.
The delegations are increasing in size and the sitting area gets more congested. In desperation South Sudanese officials are requested by the speaker to vacate their seats for foreign dignitaries. African hospitality dictates that room is made for guests, and all get their seats. Standing next to the South Sudanese officials makes me feel very, very short for the first time in my life.
The country delegations begin arriving. Most are modest affairs with a couple of representatives alighting from their single vehicles, and some even arriving on the shuttle bus. As the arrivals increase it’s clear the heavyweights are coming later. The US delegation is large, but relatively modest. Ethiopia’s Meles Zenawi arrives, followed by Kenya’s Mwai Kibaki and Uganda’s Yoweri Museveni - cheered enthusiastically by the crowd.
However, it is the South Africans who win the prize for the most impressive entrance as a sizable motorcade of huge, black, window-tinted four-wheel-drive vehicles roars through, shepherded by four military vehicles bristling with watchful South African soldiers and weaponry. Out steps Jacob Zuma and a high-level entourage. It’s a classic over-the-top show that bemuses most of the crowd, but would not be unfamiliar down south.
Thousands of flags, banners, and colorful dresses create a living multi-colored tapestry. In front, the crowd is well behaved but further back it’s seething and surging as groups of Dinka men bounce and dance to Sudanese hip-hop, pogo-ing with increasing intensity as the day wears on. The noise level rises as Sudan’s Omar al-Bashir arrives, complete with senior members of his government. Finally, the crowd roars a welcome to Salva Kiir, the first President of the Republic of South Sudan.
Inevitably we’re behind schedule as the military procession begins with a march past, followed by a long parade of organisations, associations and faith groups. They’ve practised for weeks for this day. The speaker indicates that “we don’t have time” and a decision is made to cut it short. The civil society parade is u-turned before it reaches the stand.
It’s an historic moment as the constitution is read and four copies signed, the flag raised, and President Kiir affirmed. The congratulatory speeches are not too long, but tedious as we wait for the main attractions: el-Bashir and Kiir.
The Sudanese President’s speech is direct and positive, full of congratulations, good neighborliness, and co-operation.
As expected Kiir’s speech is comprehensive, reflective, and conciliatory: salutes to fallen comrades, acknowledgement of the price of struggle, the need to forgive but not forget, and the enormity of the challenges ahead. He calls on his compatriots to dedicate themselves to servicing citizens, and rebuilding society. He finishes by referencing the suffering of those in Abyei, South Kordofan, and Darfur. He assures them he will work to achieve lasting peace. But the strength of his statement: “We bleed when you bleed, and we will not forget you”, will surely draw hours of analysis.
A canon fires 21 times and suddenly it’s over. The party moves to a temporarily constructed, large air-conditioned hall where we’re served by a group of Ethiopian waiters flown in especially for this occasion. Some of the continent’s eminent statespersons are present. Former South African president Thabo Mbeki is prominent, looking serene and pleased. We fraternize with dignitaries, and take the opportunity to shake hands and exchange a few words with the heavyweights. Within an hour the party’s over for the guests and we dribble out, but for the town’s inhabitants the celebration is just gearing up.
