It’s hard to find good news when you research South Sudan online. Even articles covering the recent treaty, which ended the bloody civil war in the world’s youngest country are tinged with skepticism about the prospects for long-term peace. But I wasn’t going to let that stop me from joining my photographer friend Trupal on his trip to this country to visit the Mundari, something we both have wanted to do for a few years. Uninvolved in the conflicts that have been tearing their young nation apart, this tribe leads a peaceful life in Terekeka county, 75 km North of Juba, South Sudan’s capital.

Were we crazy to do it? My friends thought so. My family thought we were going to Uganda, half true, since that was where we applied for South Sudan visas. Finding travel insurance for South Sudan was quite a quest, and I ended up buying a Kidnap & Ransom policy in addition to standard medical coverage. None of that was a deterrent. Barring a recurrence of military action, I was determined to make this trip. 

And one November afternoon we headed out for Terekeka and Mundari land, after landing in Juba the day before. Other than the occasional military or police checkpoint, where permits had to be presented, reviewed and stamped, there was nothing to indicate that the country was emerging from years of bloody civil war. Without exception, everyone we met on the way was friendly and welcoming. By early afternoon we arrived in a Mundari village, and the chief promptly took us to the cattle camp and introduced us to his people. 

The Mundari are strikingly beautiful, women and men both. Extremely tall like most Sudanese, they are also lean and muscular thanks to a life full of hard work, and a diet of milk, yoghurt, some grain, and the occasional fish and meat. Their faces bear three parallel scars on each side of their foreheads almost forming a V above the bridge of their nose, the scarification tradition reputedly introduced by British colonizers as a way of differentiating the tribes.  But it’s their smiles that make give their beauty a unique edge. Nobody smiles like the Mundari. Their smiles are so unguarded, that all their open, generous, hospitable personality stands out, and as a visitor you instantly feel welcome and at ease.  As I learned from some post-trip reading, the Mundari despise greed, selfishness and unkindness. They believe being mean can cause illness, so they treat those being mean or greedy with a mixture of mockery and pity. 

Friendly and peaceful by nature, the Mundari are nevertheless armed, like most tribes in South Sudan, where war has been waged for decades – first for independence, later amongst each other, so guns are ubiquitous and easy to obtain. This tribe has no interest in warfare, the guns are meant to protect their herds from cattle rustling, a serious threat. And there is a lot to protect. 

Valued in hundreds of dollars, the huge bovines raised by this tribe can grow as high as 8 feet. It’s only natural they play the multiple roles of food source, currency, asset, and status symbol for the Mundari who raise them in herds of hundreds. Uniquely to this culture, cows are also beloved friends. All Mundari grow up taking care of cattle right from early childhood and the men have a favorite cow or to be exact - favorite bull, that they care for until marriage, when it forms part of the bride price paid to their future wife’s parents. Until they part, the men pamper their favorite bulls more than they will their future children. They clean them, massage them with dung ash twice a day, decorate their (preferably asymmetrical and crooked) horns with tassels to chase off insects, sing for them and sing their praises. On our last morning at cattle camp one young man was walking around with his bull, signing about it in the hopes that a girl he liked and her parents, were listening and paying attention.  You could say the promise of giving up one’s favorite cow was not dissimilar to the offering of a beautiful engagement ring, only much more precious.

The Mundari start working the cattle camps from childhood, especially the men. They wake with the camp at sunrise and help gather up the dung from the night before and put it in heaps for burning. Cow dung is burned continuously at camp. The smoke keeps away mosquitos, but unfortunately not flies, and the powdered ash makes good sunscreen. After brushing their teeth with wooden sticks, the men may wash themselves with water brought from the Nile, or with cow urine straight from the animal. Cow urine is believed to have antiseptic properties and the ammonia in it colors hair a bright orange. The boys may have a drink of milk straight from an udder. They might also be responsible for getting the calves and smaller animals fed and can have a cow feed some of the lambs and baby goats around the camp. If they see that a calf is not getting enough milk from its mother, they will encourage lactation by blowing air up the cow’s vagina. 

As the day begins one of the men beats a drum, which starts the herd on their way out to pasture a few hundred yards away and the cattle camp empties. The men remain at camp, socializing, playing dominoes, holding impromptu wrestling matches and smoking the occasional hookah, until the evening drums signal the return of the cows from the grazing fields. When the time comes, men and boys start beating their drums in a pattern that draws the cattle back to the safety of camp. To prepare for the return of the cattle, they will clean up the camp site and replenish the burning dung heaps. As the cows come back, the boys start working on the evening feeding and young men – tending to their favorites. At sunset the camp is a wonder to behold as the cows mill about, returning to their spot for the night, and the evening light reflects on their horns and refracts on the dust and smoke of the burning dung heaps. As the day winds up, the men come back to their stations’ woven cots and settle in for a night under the stars next to their herd for protection.

 It’s not just men with at the cattle camp, as some young ladies are here to help with cooking, milking and cleaning, but most of the women stay back at the village, some distance away, where they take care of the youngest children, tend to the house and the maize and sorghum fields. 

In the three days we spent here, we grew increasingly enamored of the Mundari and their gentle ways, but It would be wrong to portray their lives as some basic, primitive paradise. South Sudan is one of the world’s poorest countries, and access to healthcare, education and other essentials is problematic, even with the dangers of civil war, hopefully, in the past. Castle rustling is violent, and claims lives on both sides. Many blame the significant payments men must make to their brides’ families to marry for causing the cattle rustling to begin with. And, of course, the tradition of bride payments itself is controversial. Opponents consider it a way of treating young girls like a commodity for poor families to sell and rich men to buy, rather than an equal domestic partner. Advocates of the tradition argue that being able to save for a significant bride payment is a sign of the groom’s maturity, prudence and budgeting skills, all important for someone about to start a family, as well as a sign of respect for the future wife and her family.

Whatever our opinions may be of these traditions, it is not for us to decide whether they should continue. From what I have seen of the Mundari, I trust they and their countrymen will come up with wise solutions to the challenges that they face, provided that their leaders don’t fail them again. And I plan to keep coming back to witness their progress.  

Photos: Trupal Pandya 

Text: Yakov Pavlov