Khamis Cosmas
(OPINION / Khamis Cosmas Lokudu) – Outsiders rarely see it, but South Sudan holds a quiet kind of power. Beneath its wide skies lies soil so fertile that, if properly used, it could feed not only its own people but millions more across Africa. With more than thirty million hectares of arable land, reliable seasonal rains and the White Nile cutting through its heart, this is no small inheritance. By every natural measure, this young nation should be a breadbasket for East Africa.
Instead, it has become the opposite a painful exception. A place of deep hunger in the middle of land that is ready, almost eager, to produce. The earth does not reject seeds. The rains have not failed. This tragedy is not environmental. It is entirely man-made. War and local conflicts have turned fertile fields into empty, dangerous ground.
For more than a decade, the rhythm of farming the sounds of digging, sowing and weeding has been drowned out by gunfire. No farmer will risk their life to tend a field. Across the country, violent cattle raids, endless cycles of revenge and clashes between armed groups have driven millions from their homes. Families who once harvested their own sorghum now stand in long lines at United Nations camps, waiting for food aid.
The link between conflict and hunger is direct. When violence erupts in key agricultural regions such as Equatoria, Jonglei, or Unity State, people flee. The planting season is missed. And when one season is lost, an entire year of food disappears. When this happens repeatedly, once-productive regions become dependent on relief. South Sudanese communities have shown remarkable resilience, but many have been pushed away from the most basic act of survival: growing their own food.
To every leader who has signed a peace agreement only to return to conflict: hear this clearly. The world is growing weary. It makes little sense to keep importing food into a country whose land is capable of feeding itself. The World Food Programme was never meant to sustain a nation indefinitely.
The people of South Sudan do not dream of foreign grain. They dream of their own land of walking to their fields with a hoe, of harvesting groundnuts and okra, of selling produce in local markets. They want to provide for themselves and reclaim their dignity. But dignity cannot take root without security.
The real work is not in signing agreements in distant capitals. It lies in patient, practical action within communities. Disarm young men and replace rifles with farming tools. Bring together herders and farmers before planting season to resolve land disputes. Repair roads so that harvests can reach markets.
The world has sent enough wheat and cooking oil. What South Sudan lacks is not aid, but the political will to end the violence. Every day peace is delayed, another field goes unplanted. Every bullet fired today is a harvest lost tomorrow.
Let people lay down their guns and pick up their hoes. They were never meant to depend on aid. They were meant to farm, to produce, to thrive. But that future depends on leadership on choosing peace over power.
The land is ready. The question is whether its leaders are.
The writer is a South Sudanese journalist.
He can be reached at: khamislokudu@gmail.com
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