Sudanese Jongole lives in Nairobi in Kenya some 900km from his hometown Juba in South Sudan. After decades of civil war in his home country, peace now seems a real possibility and Jongole thinks of moving back.

JONGOLE Angaya Ogile is a tall, thin man. Born in the town of Juba – now the capital of the newly independent state of South Sudan — Jongole is 38 years old.

The son of a Sudanese government military officer (long since retired) and a Christian himself, Jongole speaks and writes Arabic.

Coming from Sudan, a country that has experienced decades of civil war and now, most recently secession (South Sudan is world’s newest nation, having declared its independence on July 9, 2011), Jongole’s life has been tough.

His eyes betray the danger and uncertainty he has experienced.

Silently scanning the cafe we’re sitting in, he seems to be watching out for sudden movements. It’s as if a life on the road, in refugee camps, dodging police, border patrols, armed troops and rebels can never be truly shaken off.

We’re in Nairobi, some 900km south of Juba and a major hub for his countrymen.

I’m interviewing Jongole to try to learn what it’s like growing up in a world where armed conflict is the norm and peace now seems to be a real possibility.

At the same time and unbeknownst to many in Kuala Lumpur, Sudan has also been a major destination for Malaysian investment.

According to Jongole things started “falling apart” – to quote the title of the African Nobel laureate Chinua Achebe’s most famous novel – back in 1989 when his family’s hometown of Torit, some 120km from Juba, fell to the southern Sudanese rebels, the SPLA.

As the irregulars approached the town, his entire family fled across the nearby border to Uganda and then Kenya before returning to Khartoum.

I ask him why his family, who were Christians, didn’t stay on? Weren’t the SPLA liberators?

“Back then, no one knew what to expect. We didn’t know who’s who. We were all afraid and my family was with the military.”

Settling into life in Khartoum, Jongole went to Gadrif, a technical school, adding wistfully: “I always wanted to be an electrical engineer.”

However, the early 1990s were a particularly difficult time for Sudan as the country reeled from a combination of civil war, a faltering economy and runaway inflation.

For Jongole as a teenager, the defining event was the Government’s decision to introduce conscription, something he wasn’t willing to undergo, especially since troops were expected to fight in either the South or Darfur.

So, in 1995 and at the age of 16, he left home and made his way overland to Ethiopia.

“My father encouraged me to leave though my mother was afraid. Ethiopia didn’t work out. The language Amharic is very different and it wasn’t a free country. I decided to go to Kenya instead.

“I had friends and family in Nairobi. I registered at a refugee camp but I couldn’t face staying, so I left almost immediately.”

The next 15 or so years were to be a time of almost continuous uncertainty and movement as Jongole shuttled between Kenya, Uganda and Sudan – sometimes escorting oil tankers destined for the SPLA fighters and latterly with small amounts of gold (50g, 200g, sometimes 300g) which he would sell in Nairobi for a small profit.

As he explains: “There are lots of little gold mines in the south of Sudan and I became a trader bringing small amounts across the border.”

When asked about the civil war in the South, Jongole shakes his head dismissively: “It was constant fighting. Towns would be lost to the rebels and then taken back. I lost a lot of family members. It was all politics.”

What about now? Is he hopeful now that South Sudan is independent? Will he be moving back to Juba or even Torit?

Jongole smiles. It’s a half-smile. I notice that there isn’t an ounce of extra flesh on his face. The skin is as taught as a drum.

“Right now I’m working on moving back to Torit. I feel it’s safe now, safe enough to bring up a family. Even my family is moving south from Khartoum.

“Besides, for those of us who’ve spent time in Nairobi and seen how life can be coordinated and managed, we want to see what we can do in South Sudan.”

And there’s no doubt that with a population of 8.26million, spread over some 644,329km, as well as substantial oil reserves, there is potential.

“The towns are dependent on expensive diesel generators. We need electricity and power. I’m looking to import more efficient power generators from South Korea. We’re hoping to start landing the 3MW plants in Mombasa by January 2013.

“People are returning home from the refugee camps.”

I ask him about recent border tensions between the two Sudans.

“It’s not what people want. It’s all power-play. No one wants the war to continue.”

Given that Malaysia, through Petronas, has had a major long-term presence in Sudan, I ask him what he thinks of us? “You, Malaysians came in as pure investors. You were just businessmen. You weren’t like the Chinese. They meddled in our politics.”

As we say goodbye, I wonder whether Jongole’s hopes for peace and a normal, more settled existence with a family and a business, something we’ve taken for granted for decades, are achievable?

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