On the last day of July, South Sudanese soldiers shot dead two unarmed women, Anyibi Baba and Ateil Rio. The killings were the latest in a pattern of grave violations against civilians by Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA) soldiers fighting a Murle rebel group in Jonglei state.
An old rite is long overdue in Paul Yugusak Tombe’s home village, in Central Equatoria State, south Sudan.
There was no moon the night the armed men from the Murle tribe attacked the fishing village: it took place in complete darkness. Nyakong Both grabbed her two youngest boys and fled across the nearby river, as the men from the Murle tribe burnt down huts.
In the war-devastated South Sudan, a region with a population of over eight million people, Yeneneh Mulugeta is the only permanent ophthalmologist.
Motorcycle Juba style: sit as far back on the seat of the bike as possible. Hold handlebars only loosely when riding but rev frequently whenever stationary.
"The liberation struggle is over. Why are we still killing ourselves?" South Sudan's President Salva Kiir asked a meeting of chiefs, exasperation clear in his usually even-toned voice.
Two Sudanese communities that face each other across one of Africa’s most contentious borders sat together recently in the shade of three large red tents to discuss a future tied to a recent past of bloodshed.
A recent presentation at parliament by the South's Finance Minister gave a few cursory details of how the South's army managed to spend 99.6 percent of its budget by June. At the end of the public session, the South's Parliamentary Affairs Minister Martin Elia told journalists not to write about the presentation for security reasons.
A lion attempted to devour Dinka chief Makom Majong Makom once. It was during the long years of Sudan's north-south conflict that also saw a militia attack nearly destroy his rural South Sudanese community.
When Sabrina Dario Lokolong, the Speaker of South Sudan's Eastern Equatoria State Assembly, enters or leaves Parliament, all the other members of parliament must stand up.
A vast pregnancy has swollen the tiny woman walking South Sudan's shining new maternity ward clutching two pieces of paper stapled together. She looks no more than 16, wide-eyed with recent pain.
Nyandeng Akot rushed out of the rude shelter of thatch and plastic sheeting pinned against the side of a tree with sticks. Grabbing a passing aid worker's arm, she said she has nothing except the four children that she grabbed when she began running from renewed fighting in Sudan's Abyei area a month ago.