South Sudan, the youngest country in the world, has fought and won many battles. This happened because South Sudanese are known for their resilience and grit. They have braved oppressive Arab rule, protracted civil wars, devastating famine, and awful betrayal.
Grounded on this solid foundation, we have the ability to now embark on confronting a war so silent that few have dared to name it, even when it is so deadly that it threatens the soul of our country. The new war front I am talking about is the crisis of mental health; it has inflicted a hidden wound that bleeds beneath the surface of our fragile peace and has drained the youth; the lifeblood of the nation is being drained, and the nation is about to collapse.
Speaking from the position of knowledge, mental health goes beyond just the absence of mental disorders or illnesses. According to the World Health Organization, it is defined as “a state of well-being in which an individual realizes their abilities, can cope with the normal stresses of life, works productively, and contributes to their community.” The state of well-being of this kind serves as the foundation for the strength of a nation. Regrettably, South Sudan is crumbling under this very foundation.
It goes without saying that the decades of violence have left us with more than just destroyed towns and displaced people. The years of enduring hardship brought about by war have left deep scars on our minds. These scars are repeatedly reopened by the adverse circumstances citizens find themselves in. The exacerbating factors are many: millions have fled their homes to displacement camps where they live under miserable circumstances; mothers have helplessly watched their children starve to death; fathers have buried their loved ones; and youth have been forced to fight in wars they did not cause and that they do not understand. Notably, women carry the trauma of sexual violence, and children bear memories that no child should ever have to carry. Despite knowing that all these events have occurred, we expect the mind to simply forget when the guns finally fall silent.
The mind does not forget that easily.
The impact of the situation that we have encountered is now seen in the despair that drives some of our youth to alcohol, drug abuse, and reckless violence. We observe on a daily basis a toxic culture spreading across social media, where insults, fake news, and character assassinations have become commonplace. The leaking of sex tapes and private nude photos, frequently used by youth to shame or blackmail individuals, is not purely a moral failing; it is a symptom of a deeper sickness that is afflicting a society that has lost its sense of empathy. Victims of this kind, already vulnerable, are left to deal with such degrading humiliation and emotional ruin, in most cases, without any support.
This is common; we witness it in the streets. The recent gang rape of a young girl in Shirkat, a suburb of Juba, recorded and shared on social media by the perpetrators themselves, is one disturbing symptom that has shocked the nation. The incident in question might have been preceded by others of its kind or worse; perhaps God was at work, opting to awaken the country to this troubling reality. Horrors of this kind are not always isolated crimes. They are indicators of unhealed trauma in a society where violence has become a common language and the dignity of individuals is no longer regarded as sacred.
The tragic cycle of revenge killings that continues to claim lives across communities — that we all have witnessed — could be another form. In our country, loss and pain are no longer mourned or sought to be healed; they are used as fuel for further bloodshed. We have associated pride with conflict, and even some elements of society have worked successfully to glorify violent retaliation. The identities that might have been forged around warriorhood do not signify strength; they are the bitter fruits of a nation whose wounds have never been properly healed. Despite this, we offer no real help.
South Sudan is on record with fewer than five trained psychiatrists and fewer than 30 medical psychologists, among whom are Dr. George Nazario, Dr. Richard Wani, and Dr. Atong Ayuel. These professionals are the ones responsible for caring for a population of over twelve million people. The mental health services, when available, are mainly limited to Juba.
It is peculiar that our national budgetary allocation prioritizes security and is always silent on the emotional well-being of our citizens. This neglect has significant consequences because a traumatized nation cannot build a future. A wounded mind cannot safeguard peace. Every single day of postponing the necessary undertaking of addressing mental health issues is a day of failing to avert the risk of increased violence, deeper divisions, and lost potential.
So, as a nation, what must we do?
We must, without shame, declare mental health as a national priority and take action by integrating it into peace processes, development plans, and budgeting. We need to train and deploy community mental health workers to reach even the most remote villages.
It is important to break the stigma surrounding mental illness by utilizing schools, churches, mosques, telecommunication, and radio stations to educate the public that mental illness is not a sign of weakness or witchcraft; it is a legitimate health issue that can be treated. Youth must be provided with hope through jobs, education, and a sense of purpose. Traditional leaders, women’s groups, and elders should also be supported in leading community healing efforts, as they have done for generations.
The government has a duty and must rise to this challenge by integrating mental health into national health and development plans, ensuring clear budgetary allocations. It must establish functional mental health units in hospitals across all states, train and deploy professionals, fund awareness campaigns, and enact laws to protect vulnerable populations. Above all, it must invest in young people by helping them to envision a future focused on nation-building rather than the destruction of the country.
South Sudanese have shown courage on the battlefield. They have always been victorious. Now, we must embrace and exhibit even greater courage—the courage to heal, to confront our pain, and to create a future where no one remains a prisoner of invisible wounds. Mental health issues have become a bane to our national progress.
Till then, yours truly, Mr. Teetotaler!
The writer, Dr. Sunday de John, holds MBA and Bachelor of Medicine and Bachelor of Surgery (MBChB) from the University of Nairobi, Faculty of Business and Management Sciences and Faculty of Medicine respectively. He can be reached via [email protected]
The views expressed in ‘opinion’ articles published by Radio Tamazuj are solely those of the writer. The veracity of any claims made is the responsibility of the author, not Radio Tamazuj.