Junub Sudan, oyee!
After more than a decade, this remains the unifying mantra for the entire population of South Sudan. A country, a flag, and a land not just being rebuilt, but instead built from scratch. A crossing point and melting pot of people, a bridge between Sahel and the Middle East, Muslims, and Christians. Many worlds collide in South Sudan, where among tribalism and the longest African civil war, a basketball team is on a journey to represent its people.
Words by Andrea Casati
The world's youngest country has a long, tumultuous story made of contested identities and prevarications. Azania, Juwama, Kush, Nile Republic, and New Sudan. After gaining its independence in 2011, this nation had had the opportunity to emerge under different names. That year, dreaming became possible; representation was rejuvenated as a distinctive badge of honor, and basketball turned into the sport of hope for people born to aim for the skies.
If belief, culture, economy, education, language, and religion are all key pillars of identity, basketball in South Sudan is an ultimate element of union. Stories of men and women who came together to represent their nation, on and off the court, are now a microcosm of a country which is not under construction anymore but progressing along its long-awaited path to excellence.
From Juba to Manila, with Paris on the horizon and many intermediate steps between empty arenas and outdoor courts, a hurting refugee diaspora and jubilant crowds of compatriots. Sons of Junub (the South) recruited across the world and one servant leader who gave them a sense of purpose by cultivating a vision for many years to come.
I never knew what basketball could do for a country until I was part of this – Royal Ivey
September 2, 2023
Manila, The Philippines
The dusty Manila weather welcomes the Bright Stars, South Sudan’s basketball national team, at the Araneta Coliseum, the legendary arena that has been the stage of their first two memorable World Cup wins. China and the Philippines, interludes of two losses that gave signals of what could be but it’s not, yet. If the debut against Puerto Rico left bittersweet emotions for an overtime that was first fought through and then let go, the 32-point deficit inflicted by Serbia was a harsh reminder that basketball aristocracy is preserved and can only be joined after timely ceremonies dictated by experience. Today history awaits. It is not win or go home, it is win and go to Paris. To the basketball eldorado. The metaphorical representation of what mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, dealt with for eleven years. Displayed in a 40-minute exhibition: the single most important act of South Sudanese patriotism to date.
The African derby against Angola feels like a scrimmage. 101-78. Carlik Jones, born and raised in Cincinnati, Ohio, but of South Sudanese descent, with 26 points, 15 assists and 7 rebounds is the lethal commander of a peaceful revolution. A sport revolution. A revolution that not only brings the team coached by Royal Ivey, another American born, to an unexpected Olympic qualification but puts a whole country on the map.
It was my first time in South Sudan. My reaction was: “Wow we really have a country here, we have people who are trying to make things happen. We actually have a home. And I loved it.” - Kuany Kuany
March 3, 2009
Melbourne, Australia
The history of South Sudan, both before and after independence in 2011, has been characterized by cycles of displacement and return. 2.4 million refugees. A constant flow that makes it the largest refugee crisis in Africa and the fifth largest in the world. 65 percent of them are under the age of 18. It’s easily understood that the life parallelism between the Bright Stars teammates started long before their destiny opened its doors to basketball.
“The majority of the players on the national team were born or grew up in a refugee camp. Our parents got there mostly due to the Second Sudanese Civil War (1983-2005). After that broke out, everybody started to spread to any direction thought to be the safest: Ethiopia, Egypt, Uganda and Kenya.” Kuany Kuany is more than a captain. He came from ‘nowhere’, ended up being everywhere. His journey is relatable to many, his charm infuses kindness and his humble spirit on the court translates into lessons to kids off the court. Looking back, he doesn’t know how he, among many others, made it. Kuany’s words are solemn but they do not even remotely sound lamenting or begging for pity. “Kakuma is where I’m from and it literally means ‘nowhere’. There’s nothing there, just a little piece of land where dry heat takes over the day. When you grow in such a place, you always have a sense of feeling, belonging, an identity that sticks with you. You have to come out with toughness, in basketball and in life.” Whoever gets a chance to taste a better future, tends to cope by hiding inside uncomfortable chapters from the past, but Kuany keeps holding his refugee status with pride: “Kakuma was just a great place, even though uninhabitable. It will always remain in my heart.”
There’s a sense of togetherness, not just on the court but among South Sudanese people, who are constantly looking for ways to help each other. Displaced around the world, the vibrant youth expresses itself through sport. “I look at this story as a quintessential African story” tells us Elmo Kebour, a privileged observer of the team’s journey from the inside looking out in the last two years. “I don’t want to take anything away from what South Sudan had to endure and what it means to gain independence, but other African countries are also tormented by problems like tribalism.” Behind the lens, Elmo is directing and capturing a documentary that has a starting point but not yet a destination, that has the potential to become a multi-awarded narrative but whose flow can’t be accelerated or forced. “I was born in Ethiopia and raised in New York, but I now find myself saying ‘we’ rather than ‘them’. Even if I am part of the South Sudan delegation, I want to tell the story accurately and I’m trying as much as possible not to influence it in any way.”
A story shaped and written by many minds educated on an island continent far away from what ancient Arab traders used to refer to as ‘Land of the Blacks’. Deng Acouth, Sunday Dech, Majok Deng and Junior Madut are only few of the players that recently found asylum in Australia. “Moving to Australia has been a really big cultural shock. Obviously, I've never been around that many Caucasian people before” captain Kuany laughs, minimizing the sacrifices he had to deal with to welcome basketball in his life while embracing a disciplined mindset that will later grant him a degree in Law and Finance in Hawaii. “Yeah my journey across the world has been peculiar but it would have never been the same without that routine I had growing up close to Melbourne at 14: practice started at 6:30 am and it was almost two hours away from home. I vividly remember packing everything and the sequence of buses and trains I had to take. As the oldest sibling with a single mother in a foreign country, sport wasn’t really the priority. But I’m grateful for those early mornings and for what Australia has provided to me.” Today, over 15.000 people identify themselves as South Sudanese in Australia. Most came between 2001 and 2006, ahead of the new state’s formation. Despite episodes of discrimination and struggles that not even generations of integrated families could heal, this diaspora has often shown the virtue of solidarity. “Some younger people take it for granted, they don’t really know where we came from and why. Like many others, I’m proud to be South Sudanese Australian. When we played the exhibition game against Australia in Melbourne before the World Cup, we all sang both national anthems because we wouldn't be here if it wasn't for their government and community.”
The participation in the nation’s building process by citizens with a dual citizenship is frequently questioned when more educated people are seen as less committed to the political, economic and social stability of their country of origin. The Araneta’s stands in Manila are filled with fans from London, Brisbane and Toronto. The team is represented on and off the court by people who had the courage to come back or even visit their country for the first time. To expose themselves, to contribute to that stability in a more aspirational way, holding the basketball as a weapon. “The players simply play. It’s too much weight for someone to carry, a lot of them haven’t been back for years. After one of the qualifying rounds played in Tunisia, we took a flight to Juba and, before seeing the huge triumphant crowd waiting, some of them had no idea about the effect they had on the country.” Elmo has a sensible comprehension of the culture that he has seen shaping in a short time. Judging from the genuine team spirit, the positive leitmotiv of every game won or lost and the unity built between players and fans, it’s clear that there’s no pressure or added responsibility to fix the country by playing basketball.
Eva Lopa is the mastermind behind the Bright Stars’ communication that fuelled an increasing interest and curiosity by international media. She has no doubts when it comes to representation and this group of people: “The national team is most definitely the first large global movement that made being identified as South Sudanese positive. Before the independence, many South Sudanese identified themselves with other nationalities because those are the countries that they seeked refuge in. So they were just British, Kenyans, Ugandans, Americans or Australians. After independence, they became South Sudanese British or South Sudanese Americans or South Sudanese Kenyans. And that created an identity crisis. Imagine this team full of players coming from everywhere, holding different nationalities…and they just became South Sudanese. They have created the most optimistic narrative we've ever seen in South Sudan. That made anyone who identifies as South Sudanese-anything want to be a South Sudanese or want to be referred to as a South Sudanese.” When basketball becomes the message and its interpreters on the court its unifying factors, a surprising pride sparks and changes how the story gets narrated. “Representation matters. There’s an unspoken understanding that the reason these players are recognized is that many start to understand what they and their families had to escape from, what struggle they had to fight to become South Sudanese. More people now accept that you don’t have to be a resident of Juba to represent South Sudan. There’s a large appreciation for those who, despite being American, Australian, English, still identify as South Sudanese first. That decision speaks volume.” Elmo remarks.
A father in the army, relatives displaced, some cousins and friends killed. It’s not uncommon to discover similar stories delving into the personal journeys of these ambitious players. With the necessary proportions, February 2023, a few months before reaching the highest point of South Sudanese sport history, marked a moment in time when the injustices transferred to the court too. Right before the game against Senegal, decisive to clinch a spot in the 2023 FIBA World Cup, local authorities prevented any fan from entering the arena. It was the last African Qualifiers round. It was held in Al Ittihad Stadium of Alexandria, Egypt. It goes without saying that tens of thousands of South Sudanese refugees live in the transcontinental country, being involuntary protagonists of a very sensitive geopolitical ground. That day hundreds were flying to Egypt in their joyous hordes, impatiently ready to witness what the past precluded them. "This is a great story and we've been robbed today from celebrating with our fans who came all the way out here. That's the biggest disappointment that I have. We make history and our fans are not allowed on the day of making it” said on that day a man who, earlier in his life, spent six years in exile in the same place where he was now overloaded by emotions. He knew that, despite the anger of the moment, his vision was finally coming together and nothing or no one would hold his people back the next time.
This MVP award means a lot. It’s going to open doors for younger kids who don’t get the same opportunities – Anunwa “Nuni” Omot
May 27, 2023
Kigali, Rwanda
In challenging situations that transcend sport, people either shy away or see an opportunity. It’s again Eva painting the picture for us of arguably one of the most courageous players of the continent: “Nuni has a special relationship with the people of South Sudan. He’s always been the guy that they trusted to deliver. We get so many comments on social media about him. Whatever happens, just give Nuni the ball. People even ask us how to watch his games during the season while he plays for clubs.” Seeing those dreadlocks on the court is a moment of relief and joy for the fans and Nuni Omot, another product of a Kenyan refugee camp, brought his versatility back to where tension historically lies for South Sudanese. When the BAL (Basketball Africa League) opportunity presented itself, he had no doubt on where to play: Al Ahly, Cairo, Egypt. “I see the BAL as an African summer league. I’m from Africa. I’m 100% South Sudanese, and going to Egypt served a greater purpose than money or playing time. I went there to change the narrative for my people who support me unconditionally.”
If becoming the first African MVP of the best African league influences perspectives beyond the national borders, a less celebrated but more ambitious goal is to lead the change internally. “I was asked to play for South Sudan in 2021. I had never played with a national team before and I didn't know what I was getting myself into. However, from the jump there was something different that stuck out from any team that I've been on. We bonded around a vision that was bigger than basketball.” A vision that didn’t require Nuni just to perform but to become a beacon for other players. An advocate for the campaign that saw South Sudan basketball coming together and turning into a threat for more accomplished African programs like Senegal, Nigeria, and Angola. “When people talk about African basketball, they don't ever mention skills. Imagine that stereotype applied to us three years ago, no one thought we could even shoot the ball.” Fast forward to today, South Sudan has been the third best 3pts shooting team at the World Cup behind stereotypical shooting countries like Latvia and Lithuania, simply because “every guy on that team works extremely hard, and we check up on each other making sure everybody's alright and getting better.”
Messages from all over the world makes Nuni proud of a journey that cannot be taken for granted. That world he has seen, playing in every continent before being part of what he refers to as “the best sport story I’ve ever seen in my life.” Not only because he was part of it but because he knows what went into it and the man who molded the dream, calling him a couple of years after the first building blocks were united.
I am going to put South Sudan on the map for something positive – Luol Deng
November 24, 2019
Juba, South Sudan
Walking down the streets of Juba, the capital situated in the middle of the Central Equatoria State, one might immediately recognize the ancestral importance of the White Nile in dictating daily life rhythms. The river which flows from Lake Victoria crossing seven countries isn’t destined to remain the most iconic landmark of a city established around a hundred years ago. Lately, a myriad of basketball playgrounds are materializing thanks to the laborious and attentive support of the SSBF, the South Sudan Basketball Federation. Courts tinted with black, blue and green palettes that are shared by kids in love with the game and with what the game could bring to them. Mornings and evenings, under the suffocating 35 degrees and during the incessant rainy season. Outdoor basketball beats the time of Juba’s youth like White Nile did for their grandparents. The major exponent of this renowned campaign centered on rims and balls, asphalt and lines, is a leader everyone refers to as “Mr President”: Luol Deng.
Son of Aldo Deng, former Sudan’s Ministry of Education and Transportation, Luol Deng has never wished to associate his title to a political role. If the most important accolades of an NBA first round pick, with 15 years in the league and a successful career that spanned from South London to Duke, from the Bulls to the Lakers, aren’t immediately associated with the statistics and the records, the awards and the All-Star nominees that Luol had, it means something special lies underneath. Starting from camps held in the UK and Africa when his career was in full speed, for over 20 years Luol fostered a sense of national unity representing South Sudan across the world, with a particular care for the so-called ‘Lost Boys’ of his nation. “I’m a product of an opportunity” he likes to remind everyone, himself included. “I see life that way and to me giving an opportunity is more than just showing up.” Refurbishing courts represents just the building block of a vision, because the Luol Deng Foundation is a benchmark project that animates a movement exceeding basketball. “Luol and his foundation have been here for many years'' Kuany Kuany, Luol’s most trusted comrade-in-peace speaks from Juba where he has nurtured his own mission: “My foundation wants to help kids pursuing their dreams, whether that's going to high school, college or playing sport. Before moving to Australia I didn’t know those directions existed. Although I’m still playing, I want to contribute with my time and money like he did.” Long before attracting talented South Sudanese refugees in search of a national team that could centralize their desire of representation, Luol Deng was elected SSBF president in 2019. A title that embodies a deeper meaning than the royal honor of being Officer of the Order of the British Empire (OBE) and that took Luol years of preparation for: “Nobody was there to take the position and I knew the potential of what we can do in basketball. No one believed we could even compete in AfroBasket, let alone participating in the World Cup or qualifying for the Olympics.” His humble yet ambitious, concrete yet imaginative words stimulate a theory that swiftly turns from mesmerizing to logical when illustrated by one of the savviest minds the game has ever seen: “I believe that South Sudan can dominate in basketball just like Kenya and Ethiopia do in running and Jamaica in sprinting.”
There’s only so much that political leadership can inspire, especially for a country that has a history of tribal conflict. But the basketball president is seen as neutral and tries to effect change in an authentic way. Elmo Kebour met the person he now calls ‘friend’ when they both were in the States, far from the conflicts and the tasks awaiting for them: “Traveling to South Sudan with Luol is different from the average experience. When he touches the ground in Juba, I notice a kind of joy I cannot put into words, it’s a moving experience. The pride and inspiration he instills in South Sudanese people is second to nothing.” But a young nation, federation and team can only go that far with the enthusiasm of their people, the vision of their leader and the chemistry of their hungry players. The South Sudanese movement also requires the essential contribution of people grown in neighboring countries who saw in basketball something larger than life. “For us it’s more or less a call or a purpose that we willingly want to carry out. Basketball gave me education and seeing the results we are getting makes me love what I do” states Orom A. Mackmot, SSBF Vice-President who was part of the steering committee that organized the elections and was later convinced to stay onboard. “Here everyone fights for the same cause and vision, the one that Mr. Deng dreamed of and praised. We can’t ask for more.” However, the achievements on the court multiplied and this federation pushed for more: “Our AfroBasket journey started around 2020 in Kenya where we lost in the final. Then we went to Cameroon for another wild card tournament and we lost to Cape Verde. It was devastating and we started losing hope, but then we got a call from FIBA that Algeria pulled out and we took their place. From that time on we never looked back…”
Dr. Arou Ramadan is another relevant figure collaborating with the President. An international relations graduate at Nairobi’s United States International University, he moved to Uganda for his professional basketball career before returning to Kenya to earn a PhD. He’s SSBF Deputy Secretary General and he has seen firsthand how things quickly evolved for the federation. “The first time I realized we were onto something big, it’s when we first played in Nairobi’s Nyayo Gymnasium in 2019: there were so many South Sudanese fans that the gym was trembling. A FIBA executive had to call the Kenyan federation and tell them to postpone the game because it was a disaster in the making. The gym could have collapsed anytime.” That day Luol and his team gained the necessary confidence that putting South Sudan on the map and changing its narrative was possible, that their fan base was not as small as they thought, that a country was rallying behind them with hope and positive expectations. “South Sudanese all around the world love each other. Because of our history of diaspora that lasted for decades, we always look for a unifying factor.”
More than four years went by since a dream was shaped. It would be pretentious to expect for a team’s increasing impact to expand beyond sports borders, but in such a young country, where events are often country-first, the sense of patriotism turns anything into a pretext to catch up with the rest of the world. Since those World Cup days, basketball has become an amplifier of longing and ambition across the ten states of a republic often labeled, like many African countries, with the word ‘potential’. Overwhelming and devastating, the potential of South Sudan is long overdue but it deserves to be looked after with patience, as captain Kuany outlines cleverly: “South Sudan is like a young child who is trying to find himself, to understand, to learn. There’re still many tensions within our country that divide us.” Simultaneously, the potential urges to be unleashed: “South Sudan is like a ticking bomb ready to explode onto the international scene. Basketball has just been an example of that. I see so many hidden talents, Luol Dengs in other sectors who are waiting for the right opportunity to show what they’re capable of.”
“The most common and harmful addiction in the world is to be drawn to comfort” is one of Mr. President’s sociological mottos. It can be applied to an individual or to a nation striving for challenges. A concept encapsulated in the effort propelled by Luol Deng to launch a South Sudanese women’s basketball league, but in need of bigger commitments from people in power. More funds and sustainable plans for a dual-gender future growth are crucial to reach new heights, but at a more fundamental level the nation’s first indoor basketball arena, shoes, balls and coaches remain vital to keep the movement alive and to serve a generation that will hopefully be raised in what many nostalgically see as a distant motherland. The future is now. If Wenyen Gabriel is the only player in the World Cup’s roster who gravitates around the NBA, Khaman Madit Maluach is well equipped to follow the road originally traced by the legendary Manute Bol. In 2020, at 13, he approached basketball. Four years, the NBA Africa Academy experience, a couple of BAL seasons and one World Cup later, he’s the prototype of what the future has in store for South Sudan. “Soon it’s going to be crazy to pick twelve guys to represent the country. That's all I know.” Kuany Kuany is a man of his word. Junub Sudan, oyee! A hymn to the South Sudan that will be. A hymn to the new era of South Sudanese basketball.
Credits: Talel Nacer, Matteo Marchi (photography)
