One thing I hate from my graduation and will continue hating it for the rest of my life is that, my father does not understand that I have graduated.
My father is battling with senescence as his memory remains deranged. Father, I’m graduating tomorrow, any word for your resilient son?
He could not reply me with a relevant word. Damn! Where are old people revived? I want to reincarnate my father. This resilient poor man had created a history.
Orphaned at age 3, my father survived at the mercy of God. When he saw that poverty was overwhelming him, he left home barehanded and headed to Khartoum, Sudan, where he got employed as a manual worker for many years. My father did not remain in Khartoum like most of his colleagues did, he returned home with a herd of cows and married my mother in honour of his dead uncle, Arol Dhieu.
Then he went out again and spent time in places, such as Thiët, Mayen-Abun, Mayen-Rual, Waar-Awar, Yambio, Wau, and so on. He returned home with another herd of cattle and married his own wife. Then he settled in Tinagau village to raise us. I must admit he raised us well. People who were orphaned at younger age would mention my father, Michael Mawut Thuom, as an exemplary and promise to struggle to succeed in life. I pray that my father continues to live so that I pay him back.
Every time I travel to have a long stay away, my father does not tell me many words. He tells me a word or two. Then he concludes that one word is enough for a wise man. Malek, my son, I know your tongue is short, keep it up. Let people call to appreciate me for having raised you up in a right way, instead of calling me to report the problems you have caused. My response has always been, “I have heard you, father”.
It took me seven years to complete my studies in the School of Medicine, University of Juba; required six years and one year wasted during the COVID-19 Pandemic. Students from other colleges who were admitted in the same year with me graduated, got jobs, bought plots of land and cars, opened businesses and are having fat bank accounts. But here I am, just a two-month old graduate, jobless, plotless, carless, business-minded, but penniless, with a very hungry bank account. But it does not discourage me from hoping for a better tomorrow.
Whatever the obstacle, the struggle continues. I want a name bigger than my father’s. Of course, a name worth mentioning. Just like my father, I’m a solitary buffalo. I’m not a fan of entering someone’s pocket to speed up my struggle. No matter how long it may take me to succeed, I am confident it will happen like a blink of an eye.
Thank you for reading “Sowing The Seed Of Truth”.