By Isaac Chol Aguer
In our beloved Republic of South Sudan — where prestige is measured by the number of neckties in your closet, not the number of books you’ve read — the legal profession has stopped being a profession.
It’s now a bizarre hybrid of motorcycle sales, dubious land deals, and signing contracts for vehicles that don’t even exist.
Once upon a time, a lawyer was the “protector of justice,” today, he’s just a glorified property broker. Nobody asks for your degree, no one checks your license.
All it takes is a neatly ironed pair of trousers, a cheap but overpowering cologne, and a seat at a local café in Juba for someone to greet you: “Good afternoon, Molana!”
Believe me — no one cares where you studied nor whether you even know the difference between criminal and civil law.
In this republic of appearances, outfits precede intellect, and presentation outweighs substance.
Allow me to remind you of one of Sudan’s most famous folktales: a man once entered a mourning house in humble clothes and was ignored.
He returned later in a spotless white “Jellabiya” and was received with warmth, invited to the best seat, and welcomed at the feast. The man then muttered his timeless line: “Eat, my sleeve, before my mouth,” for it was his clothes that earned respect — not his soul.
Lawyers in South Sudan are living their worst days. The state, through its deafening silence, has allowed the profession to the edge of collapse. No immunity, no protection, no law enforcement. A lawyer today lives under constant threat from petty thugs and powerful warlords alike. Many have fled to the world of real estate and petty brokering to make a living. Some chase down motorcycle deals, while others sit at tea stalls drafting land agreements for disputed plots, cheered by a group of vagabonds who call them “Molana, Zool Kabier.”
The gravest tragedy — which no one dares utter — is that there are impostors within the profession without any law degree. Fake certificates, purchased titles in dark alleys, and doctorates no one knows the source of.
That’s why, when the Bar Association recently announced a review of academic credentials for practicing lawyers, I saw entire armies of brokers trembling. I realized many would soon vanish from the scene. But the truth is: this review shouldn’t stop with lawyers.
It should extend to the civil services where higher positions might be occupied by individuals who don’t even hold a high school certificate.
We have people with forged certificates occupying critical positions, while genuine degree holders chase side hustles, gradually forgetting what they once studied… even questioning whether those university years were an investment or a waste.
Perhaps we made a mistake. Instead of chasing education, maybe we should’ve gathered a dozen young men from each neighborhood, formed lobbyists, given it a fearsome name, and pressured the government for positions and lofty titles like “General” or at least “Molana.”
But alas… we are a people who love hearing good titles, but never live up to them.
Eat, my sleeve, before my mouth…
The End for today!
“Coming tomorrow: When an Onion is Worth More Than a Degree.”
Alright, my friends — same page, same time tomorrow. Maybe something better to say.