PRIMAL Vengeance

Chapter 7



Kaljak Village, Abyei District



Technically the village of Kaljak was located in South Sudan. In reality it resided in the contested Abyei District, an area claimed by both Sudan and the newly formed South Sudan. During a UN referendum in 2011 the population had voted overwhelmingly in favor of splitting from Sudan. However democracy meant little to the powerful men in Khartoum. They simply wanted the oil.

The town, if it could be called that, was a handful of single storey, mud-and-thatch-roofed dwellings constructed around an open marketplace. Normally filled with traders and their goods, it lay almost empty, abandoned in the face of war.

To one side of the dusty square stood a medical clinic constructed with international aid. It was the only medical post for forty miles. Manned by a team of Western volunteers, it was a basic, single storey building with a large water tank. Its modern-day wood and plastic sheet construction contrasted with the mud-brick huts clustered around it.

"You don't understand. They will come and they will kill everyone!" Garang was arguing with the missionaries who ran the clinic. The evangelists refused to abandon the village despite the dire warning that Garang and his men had brought.

The leader of the small group was a stern American woman. She reminded Garang of his junior high librarian. "God did not abandon us in our time of need. We will not abandon these people."

"God has nothing to do with this and the villagers are already leaving." The SFF leader was getting increasingly agitated by her stubbornness. "The Janjaweed will not care what god you pray to. You will die here."

The old woman jutted out her chin. "I would not expect you to understand. You are not a believer."

"For God's sake, woman, die here if you want. But don't force these women to die with you." The other members of the missionary team were a pair of idealistic American college students.

"God will not forsake us, young man. We will negotiate with these men."

Garang threw his arms in the air and stormed away. "These people are brainwashed. Jess, you talk to them." The doctor was overseeing Garang's men loading the village's elderly into a battered old pickup.

"I'll try." She walked over to the missionaries.

Garang had brought six armed men, a former military UNIMOG truck and a four-wheel drive to the village. It was all he could scrounge up on short notice. Jonjo's radio transmission revealed the Janjaweed at the oil refinery had reached them the day before. By the time they had picked up the teenage soldier the Janjaweed were already on their way to Kaljak.

The news had been shocking; the nomadic Arab tribes had never worked with the Chinese before. Their raids were usually focused out west around Darfur.

The SFF had moved fast but still they were running out of time. As they reached Kaljak, Janjaweed warriors had already raided a number of the nearby settlements. The streams of refugees brought stories of horror: entire families massacred, woman raped, markets pillaged, cattle butchered, homes burned. The Arab killers were leaving nothing in their wake. Their masters in Khartoum wanted the villagers forced off the lands so they could claim the territory. The Janjaweed were just happy to be slaughtering infidels.

Garang watched the villagers fleeing. Women, children and the elderly, hampered by the few things they could carry, walked as fast as they could. A couple of rusted vehicles also departed, crammed full of people and the last of the livestock. Most of the cattle had already been driven south by the able-bodied men. Everyone was heading deep into South Sudan, away from the violence and towards the UN refugee camps.

Garang slammed his fist down on the bonnet of his old Hilux four-wheel drive. If only he had more men and more weapons. He could make a stand against the Janjaweed, drive them from the oil fields and bring riches to the country. He shook his head in disbelief as a white UN Landcruiser overtook the stragglers, leaving them in its dust. No doubt the observers would report the incident, then in a week or so a patrol of poorly equipped Nigerians would come out to survey what was left of the village. He spat in the dust as he watched the four-wheel drive disappear down the dirt track.

The radio attached to his belt squelched twice. It would be Jonjo reporting in. The young warrior was watching the approaches to the village.

"Garang, Garang!"

"Jonjo, report."

"The Janjaweed are closing in. We have ten minutes at the most."

The SFF leader looked back to where he had left Jess negotiating with the missionaries. She had given up and was now photographing with her camera; more evidence of the atrocities, as she called it. His men had finished loading the weak and wounded into the UNIMOG truck and were now focused on stopping desperate refugees from climbing onto the vehicle.

"OK, pull back, Jonjo.

"Yes, Garang. I'm coming."

He dropped the radio back onto his belt, unslung his AK and yelled at the top of his lungs. "Mount up. We're leaving!"

Two of his men climbed into the back of the UNIMOG and lifted the tailgate. The driver turned the truck engine over as Jess climbed up into the cab. The other three men were in the Hilux.

Garang strode over to the missionaries who were standing out in front of the medical clinic. "Last chance, women. We are leaving."

The old lady stood firm. "We're staying."

"May God be with you then." Garang strode back to the truck. The driver was struggling to get it started.

In the distance a heavy machine gun thudded followed by the crackle of small arms. The gunfire panicked the remaining villagers and they started running into the bush, looking to hide. The elderly missionary bundled the younger women into the clinic and shut the door.

"Get that damn truck started!" ordered Garang as he jumped into the front seat of the Hilux.

More gunfire sounded in the distance, coming from local villagers trying to protect their homes. They would die in vain, ruthlessly gunned down by the raiders.

"The truck is broken," Jess yelled from the front seat. "It won't start."

Another volley of heavy machine-gun fire echoed through the marketplace.

Garang leapt from the Hilux, yelling at his driver, "Get in front of the truck and tow start it!"

The SFF man skidded the Hilux in front of the UNIMOG and jumped out hooking chains to the bull bar of the truck.

"Hurry the hell up!" screamed the SFF commander.

"Garang!" Jonjo yelled from the other side of the village. He was running, his AK47 held at the ready. "Why is the truck still here?"

"Because it's broken," snapped Garang.

Jonjo grabbed a worn PKM machine gun from the SFF pickup. Looping a belt of ammunition over his shoulder, he ran to the medical clinic. It was the tallest building in the village and a ladder led up the adjacent water tank. He scrambled up to get a better view.

The gunfire from the edge of the village had stopped but the rumbling of approaching vehicles could be heard. The local villagers had put up a poor showing. Jonjo lay at the roof's edge, adjusting the PKM, sighting the weapon on the Janjaweed convoy he could see in the distance.

"We've got inbound, four vehicles," Jonjo yelled.

"Slow them down!" Garang screamed from the Hilux.

Jonjo opened fire with a short burst from the PKM. The vehicles were still well out of effective range for the weapon and the rounds smacked into the dust, short of his intended target. The young soldier adjusted his point of aim, as Garang had taught him, and pumped out another volley.

Twelve hundred meters up the track the rounds slammed into the lead vehicle in the Janjaweed convoy. The driver reacted quickly, bouncing the truck off the road and into the bush. The other vehicles followed, bashing through the trees. The gunners in the weapon turrets unleashed their machine guns, blasting away at the village.

Jonjo ducked instinctively as bullets snapped through the air. The rooftop offered good fields of view but no protection. He let off another burst into the trees where the vehicles had driven. Inaccurate return fire peppered the village and the market place.

"Garang, we need to go now!"

"God damn it I know, Jonjo!"

The Hilux struggled to pull the UNIMOG, its worn engine screaming. Slowly the truck inched forward, gaining momentum. As it gathered speed the driver dropped the clutch, there was a lurch and a cough of smoke and the old diesel spluttered to life. Both vehicles halted, their engines running, and a SFF fighter unlatched the Hilux from the truck.

Back on the building Jonjo watched the location of the Janjaweed vehicles, partially concealed amongst the trees. His sharp eyes registered a flash and he caught a glimpse of a small black dot heading skyward.

"MORTARS!" the young soldier screamed as he leapt from the rooftop.

The bombs slammed into the marketplace, screams filling the air as flying shrapnel inflicted horrendous wounds on a family of refugees. A woman thrashed in the dirt, both of her legs blown off. Another round detonated on top of her finishing her misery, spraying her body across the dirt.

The UNIMOG truck roared as it leapt forward, black smoke pouring from its exhaust. The driver didn't need prompting. He swerved around the Hilux and took off down the track that ran south.

"GO, GO, GO!" screamed Garang as more rounds slammed into the village. The roof of the medical clinic exploded in a cloud of splinters and dust, the water tank collapsing, sending a wave out over the packed earth of the marketplace.

The SFF driver waited a second, watching his side mirror. Jonjo burst through the dust and smoke. Waiting hands hauled him over the tailgate and the driver gunned the engine. The four-wheel drive's tires spun in the dirt as they lurched forward escaping the maelstrom of violence.

The two heavily laden SFF vehicles sped clear of the village, refugees running with outstretched arms as they tried to catch them.

Jonjo's knuckles were white as he clutched the tailgate of the Hilux. Tears of rage streamed down his face as he watched another village burn.

In the front of the pickup Garang pounded his fists against the dashboard. Jeeps, heavy machine guns and now mortars. The Janjaweed had it all! He slammed his fist again. What did he have to fight back with? AKs, old men and boy soldiers!