Isaac Buay

Happy SPLA Day!
A day that carries memories of sacrifice, resilience, struggle, and the long journey toward self-determination.

For many, it is deeply personal. A reminder of those who gave everything for the dream of a nation. 🇸🇸

Moments from Chuil, Jonglei State, South Sudan.

What I witnessed there was displacement, uncertainty, tension, exhaustion, but also remarkable resilience.

Families arriving with almost nothing. Communities adapting to repeated cycles of violence and displacement. And despite everything, people still finding ways to continue.

At times, even a palm tree becomes shelter. Not ideal, but enough for people to rest beneath after long journeys. And somehow, in the middle of exhaustion and uncertainty, there were still moments of laughter and smiles.

Access remains difficult in many areas, with movement often depending on boats through swamps and flooded terrain.

As a visual storyteller, being a witness means carrying stories that are not yours and trying to tell them with honesty and care.

Chuil stayed with me.

Yesterday, on Good Friday, thousands of Catholic faithful filled the streets of Juba in a powerful joint procession.
Through the reenactment of the Way of the Cross, worshippers walked in reflection of the suffering and sacrifice of Jesus Christ, a moment carried in silence, prayer, and shared faith.

But beyond remembrance, the procession became something more. A collective voice. A quiet but urgent call for peace in a country that continues to endure hardship.

Hot in Juba

Last year around this time, I was in Zurmi, Zamfara State, about 546km north of Abuja, Nigeria.
Zurmi is largely agricultural. Nearly half of the population depends on farming. But years of insecurity and armed banditry have disrupted livelihoods and forced many families from their land.

I spent time in a boarding school that had become a shelter for Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs). Today, the school is still functioning but differently. It has been converted into a day school due to ongoing insecurity. One part of the compound is alive with students immersed in lessons. Another part, the dormitories house families who fled armed attacks. Classrooms and displacement exist side by side.

Many of the displaced families were farmers. They spoke of cultivating beans, millet, vegetables. When attacks happened, the bandits took the valuable harvest. What was often left behind was corn. Now corn is survival. One meal, prepared in different forms. Eaten repeatedly. Spiced with whatever natural ingredients are available. Molded into cubes, dried in the sun, preserved for later, or sold for small income.

Food reduced to repetition. Space divided between education and emergency and communities adjusting to a “temporary” reality that has lasted far too long.

These images are from Zurmi, where resilience and disruption share the same walls.