“Peace cannot be imposed; it must be built from within the everyday lives of people.“
Oliver P. Richmond, A Post-Liberal Peace (2011)

It was a gloomy day in Yei River County, South Sudan, nestled between the borders of the Democratic Republic of Congo and Uganda. Yei, often called the ‘Small London’ of South Sudan, is famous for its lush greenery and fertile soil, with a climate influenced by nearby rainforests and cooler air from Uganda. Despite its picturesque environment, Yei bears the scars of war and conflict.

On this soft, rainy day, I was scheduled to meet a respected community elder. A young girl greeted me with a shy smile as I approached his home. She quickly darted back inside, loudly calling out to her father. I settled onto a half-broken plastic chair under a mango tree in front of his mud-painted, tin-roofed house. Though larger than a typical ‘tukul,’ the house’s shape was reminiscent of one.

David, the elder, soon emerged. He was a tall man, over six and a half feet, draped in an old, hole-ridden brown jacket. His presence commanded respect; he was well-built and in his later years. His face, marked by experience, lit up with a youthful smile. “Hello, my friend,” he greeted warmly, pulling up another chair. “How are you? Tea or coffee?” His perfect white teeth contrasted with the weariness in his eyes. “Coffee is always a good idea,” I replied, returning his cheerful smile.

Our conversation turned serious as we discussed the recent intercommunal conflicts affecting Yei. These conflicts, usually seasonal, had taken an unexpected turn when cattle from the Mundari community migrated into Yei during an unusual time. The Mundari, known for their agricultural and pastoral lifestyle, were armed to protect their herds from rustlers. However, they were caught off-guard by a sudden attack from a local warring party, leading to a tragic escalation. “They’ve even taken two women from our village,” David whispered, hinting at the gravity of the situation.

David was adamant that military intervention would worsen the conflict due to tribal and political biases. He suggested instead that dialogue with the elders of the cattle keepers might help find a resolution. My organization supports grassroots peacebuilding initiatives, and we were ready to back David and the community elders in their efforts.

Over the next few weeks, with some financial and technical support from my organization, David and the elders successfully mediated between the communities. Remarkably, they reached a resolution that halted the conflict in Mugo county within three weeks.

My relationship with David began years earlier during a mediation and peacebuilding training for community leaders. He was an eager participant, and our conversations extended beyond the training sessions, often over coffee on Sundays. These discussions enriched my understanding of the local culture and the intricate dynamics of community conflicts.

This journey of relationship building, essential to effective peacebuilding, culminated in a significant achievement. The conflicting parties agreed to meet publicly, forgive the incidents, and perform reconciliation rituals in the presence of community leaders, military officials, and local clergy. This act of public reconciliation not only mended broken ties but also set a powerful example for other communities. Reflecting on our accomplishments, David and I met again under the same mango tree, celebrating our modest yet impactful achievements with laughter. This experience underscored a vital lesson: building relationships and trust within communities is crucial for peacebuilders. It’s about recognizing the unique contributions of various individuals, regardless of gender, color, or age, and dedicating oneself to the cause of peace—an endeavor that truly defines my passion and commitment.

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