Intellectuals Are Prophets of Their Causes: Deng Kuaj in His Ascendancy
Mohamed Badawi
I hesitated a lot before writing this article, as I never had the chance to meet the late Deng Kuaj Ayiuel. Yet, over more than seven years, we maintained contact via email and WhatsApp. During this time, we collaborated through Rafiki Publishing House on two publications: the first was a collection of essays on literature and politics concerning South Sudan, and the second was the sixth installment of the Wujuh series, titled Tales from the Everyday Streets.
In 2021, Deng reached out to share the news that the Wujuh series had been added to the Library of Congress. Despite Deng’s early involvement with the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement (SPLM) as one of its covert operatives during Sudans pre-separation era, his identity as an intellectual and journalist overshadowed his political affiliations. With remarkable skill, he navigated the delicate balance between the intellectual and the political, embodying the role of a committed intellectual.
This was evident in his writings, which deeply explored the connections between Sudanese people. He delved into the shared social histories, citizenship, and geographic coexistence of Sudan before the split, asserting that these ties are inseparable. They are a collective memory that belongs to those who lived through that era, even if they have become historical. Deng challenged the claims of some political leaders—those who lacked democratic legitimacy and came to power through dictatorship—who sought to exploit notions of sovereignty to dismiss Sudanese affairs. Using the tools of an organic intellectual, Deng dismantled such claims, highlighting that the causes of separation were the result of the Islamist regime’s policies, not the will of the Sudanese people.
Following South Sudan’s independence, Islamists in Khartoum launched a systematic assault on Christian schools, associations, and newspapers owned in part by those of Southern origins. In response, Rafiki Publishing House emerged as an elegant countermeasure. The name “Rafiki,” derived from Swahili, means “friend,” symbolizing an enlightening initiative that preceded even public electricity and water lines in South Sudan’s capital, Juba.
As a professional journalist, Deng’s writing in publications like Ajras al-Hurriya was intelligent and sharp. He brought this distinctive flavor to social media, particularly Facebook, where his posts were both captivating and anthropological in nature when addressing Sudanese matters. Deng mastered the art of extracting the social history often manipulated for political purposes. He was a parliamentarian close to his constituents.
Deng Kuaj was also a unique artist—a director, photographer, painter, and brilliant designer. A few months ago, he shared photos of his wedding to his second partner, Nadia Majak, presenting it as a visual narrative of Dinka traditions. It was a cinematic portrayal that invited reflection on the customs and rituals of Dinka weddings, breaking stereotypes that reduce the dowry to a mere count of cattle.
During the tribulations of the Sudanese war, when sports teams were forced to play some matches in Juba, Deng Kuaj and young South Sudanese men and women became the substitute audience for the absent crowds of Khartoum’s stadiums. Dengs smile in Juba’s stadium, even as his country’s team faced defeat, symbolized the spirit of sportsmanship. This smile stood in contrast to the political injustice many faced after independence, including the revocation of Deng’s Sudanese nationality and passport by Khartoum’s authorities. Despite this, Deng’s awareness was deep and unshaken—he knew that such actions could not erase shared values or memories.
The loss of Deng Kuaj is a profound grief that touched many Sudanese across boundaries. Even the SPLM could not claim him entirely, for Deng’s love for Sudanese people transcended affiliations. I confidently state that if asked for his nationality, he would write: Deng Kuaj: Sudanese.
Those who knew him closely have written about him, and these writings—despite the international borders that separate Sudanese people—offer reassurance that shared sentiments and values endure. This collective love for Deng Kuaj is like clay molded from the eternal Nile River silt. I urge those who wrote in his memory to compile these reflections into a volume published by Rafiki Publishing House, for we desperately need to document the legacy of Deng Kuaj and Rafiki, preserving them in the immortal annals of history.
Condolences to his family, comrades, friends, and the people of Sudan who knew him.
