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Living, Jungle, Juba (2026)

14/07/2026

YESTERDAY MORNING, I ALMOST DIED BECAUSE OF NYASH.

No, not my own.

My friends'.

Yesterday morning, I was inside a car with two highly educated gentlemen.

One is a Geologist currently pursuing a PhD in one of the finest universities in the United Kingdom.

The other is a Civil Engineering PhD candidate in one of the top universities in the United States.

As for me...

I was the only medical doctor in the car.

Three educated men.

Three future nation builders.

Three people expected to change South Sudan.

What could possibly go wrong?

Everything.

The geologist was driving.

Within five minutes...

He almost knocked down two boda boda riders.

TWICE.

I shouted:

"My brother! Focus on the road!"

The man didn't even answer me.

Instead, he pointed toward the roadside and calmly said:

"Doctor... look carefully."

I looked.

He said:

"Stratford International University is truly blessed."

As a doctor, I examined the situation clinically.

I saw healthy students walking peacefully to class.

Blood pressure normal.

Respiratory rate normal.

No medical emergency.

Case closed.

But the Civil Engineer beside me?

Kaiiiii...

The man grabbed his head with both hands like someone who had just discovered crude oil.

Then he shouted:

"Jesus Christ!!"

"LOOK AT THAT NYASH!!"

"LOOK AT THAT HIP!!"

"My brother, Stratford is producing future wives in industrial quantity!"

The geologist immediately reduced the speed from 60 km/h to 20 km/h.

Not because of traffic.

Not because of potholes.

But because scientific observation had begun.

The man started driving in slow motion.

Turning his neck left.

Turning his neck right.

At one point, I wasn't sure whether he was driving the car...

Or conducting field research.

Then he made the most dangerous statement I have ever heard.

He said:

"If I hit somebody on this road, honestly speaking...

I should not be held fully responsible."

I screamed:

"WHY???"

He replied with confidence:

"Doctor, such premium Nyash and hips should not be displayed so close to the road."

I almost opened the door and jumped out.

Imagine surviving medical school...

Only to die because two PhD candidates forgot the difference between a road and a fashion runway.

I tried to advise them.

"Gentlemen...

Please...

Face the road."

The engineer looked at me with disappointment.

Then said:

"Doctor...

Mind your business."

"We are simply appreciating God's excellent engineering."

The geologist added:

"And as a geologist, I am only studying natural formations."

Natural formations???

At that moment I realized education alone cannot save a man.

The journey from Stratford to Hai Referendum felt longer than driving from Juba to Cairo.

Every five meters...

"Ehiiii!"

"My God!"

"See shape!"

"Who molded this one?"

I was busy praying Psalm 91.

They were busy conducting visual research.

By the grace of God...

We arrived safely.

No accidents.

No broken bones.

Only my blood pressure increased.

So dear Stratford International University ladies...

Please continue focusing on your education and your bright future.

And to my fellow men...

The road is for driving.

Not for carrying out a national census of Nyash.

Because insurance companies don't accept this excuse:

"Officer, the hips distracted me."

Drive first.

Admire later.

And if your neck is turning faster than your steering wheel...

Please park the car.

✍🏾 Mariano,
Ghetto President ✊🏾

13/07/2026

I am Dinka.

You are Nuer.

Now, for just one moment...

Remove those labels.

Remove tribal politics.

Remove prejudice.

Remove jealousy.

And look at me carefully.

Why do you hate me?

Have I ever taken food from your table?

Have I ever stopped your child from going to school?

Have I ever prevented you from getting a job?

Most likely...

You and I don't even know each other well enough to be enemies.

The truth is, you and I are living almost the same life.

I am a Dinka trying to survive.

You are a Nuer trying to survive.

I wake up every morning hoping life will improve.

You wake up with the very same hope.

I worry about paying bills.

You worry about paying bills.

I worry about food.

You worry about food.

I worry about the future of my family.

You worry about yours too.

We are both struggling.

We are both dreaming.

We are both trying to build a better tomorrow.

So why are we fighting each other?

Have you ever stopped and asked yourself that question?

While poor Dinka are fighting poor Nuer...

And poor Nuer are fighting poor Dinka...

Who is really benefiting?

Look around.

Many powerful and wealthy people—whether Dinka, Nuer, or from any other community—are not sleeping under a rekuba.

Their children are in good schools.

Some are studying abroad.

They have access to quality healthcare.

They eat well.

They travel.

Meanwhile...

You and I are struggling to find decent jobs.

Struggling to afford proper meals.

Struggling to access quality healthcare.

Struggling to educate our children.

Sometimes we don't even know where tomorrow's income will come from.

Yet somehow...

We are convinced that the person suffering beside us is our enemy.

That should make us think.

When ordinary people are divided by tribe, it becomes easier for those with power to keep them divided.

A divided people rarely speak with one voice about unemployment, education, healthcare, corruption, security, or development.

Instead, they spend their energy fighting each other.

South Sudan deserves better than that.

We were not born to be tools in someone else's conflict.

We were born to build families.

To educate our children.

To farm.

To heal.

To teach.

To create businesses.

To develop our nation together.

The day an ordinary Dinka sees an ordinary Nuer as a brother instead of an enemy...

And the day an ordinary Nuer sees an ordinary Dinka the same way...

That is the day South Sudan will take a giant step toward lasting peace.

Our greatest battle should not be against each other.

It should be against poverty, ignorance, disease, unemployment, and everything that keeps our people behind.

Let's stop inheriting hatred.

Let's start building understanding.

Because at the end of the day...

Before I am Dinka...

Before you are Nuer...

We are both human beings.

We are both South Sudanese.

And we all deserve a peaceful future.

✍🏾 Mariano,
Ghetto President ✊🏾

13/07/2026

Yesterday, I had a conversation with someone that almost made me question my own financial intelligence.

He confidently said:

«"Anyone earning a salary who cannot save at least 20,000 SSP every month is simply extravagant."»

I paused.

Then I asked him,

"So, how much do you earn?"

He replied,

"150,000 SSP."

I nodded.

"How much do you save every month?"

He smiled proudly.

"70,000 SSP."

Honestly, I was impressed.

Saving nearly half your salary in this economy is no small achievement.

Curious, I asked,

"How do you manage to save that much?"

He replied:

- 10,000 SSP for data.
- 50,000 SSP for miscellaneous expenses.
- 20,000 SSP for his girlfriend.

I looked at him and asked,

"What about food? Rent? Electricity? Water? Transport? Fuel? Internet? Medical bills?"

The man laughed.

Then he dropped the real bombshell.

"I live with my elder brother."

"His wife cooks for me every day and even packs lunch."

"I go to work in my brother's car."

"If he's unavailable, the driver picks me."

"I don't pay rent."

"I don't pay electricity."

"I don't pay water."

"My siblings abroad regularly send me clothes and sometimes money."

At that moment...

Everything became clear.

I looked at him and said,

"My brother, with all due respect...

You shouldn't be saving 70,000 SSP.

You should be saving 140,000 SSP!"

That 50,000 SSP you casually call "miscellaneous" is someone's entire monthly salary.

From that same money, another person is paying rent.

Buying food.

Paying school fees.

Supporting parents.

Sending money to younger siblings.

Buying fuel.

Paying electricity.

Handling emergencies.

And somehow still trying to survive.

Yet people like that are called "extravagant."

Life is different for everyone.

Some people are standing on the fifth floor and telling those on the ground that climbing is easy.

What they forget is that someone carried them upstairs.

There's nothing wrong with receiving help.

In fact, if you're blessed to have supportive family, mentors, or connections, be grateful.

But don't confuse privilege with superiority.

Don't mistake support for self-made success.

Encourage people.

Inspire people.

Share your journey honestly.

But don't make hardworking people feel like failures simply because your responsibilities are not the same as theirs.

Sometimes, the person you call "bad at saving" isn't wasting money...

They're carrying responsibilities you've never had to carry.

Stay humble.

Because everyone is fighting a battle you may never see.

✍🏾 Mariano,
Ghetto President

02/07/2026

I have officially retired from night visits. Effective immediately.

Last night, I accidentally completed what the military, police academy, Olympic committee, wildlife department, and mental hospital have been trying to create for years...

The Ultimate Survival Test.

Everything was peaceful.

The moon was shining.

The stars were smiling.

Love was sweet.

Then...

"WHO IS THAT?!"

Her brother's voice changed my entire blood group.

From that moment, my ancestors stopped watching and started praying.

A peaceful visit instantly became an action movie directed by destiny itself.

I didn't even know who punched who.

I only remember jumping over the fence with the grace of a frightened goat.

Unfortunately...

Out of all the compounds in South Sudan...

I landed inside a soldier's compound.

The soldier grabbed his gun so fast, I started confessing sins I hadn't even committed.

The man and his bodyguard chased me like I had stolen the country's GDP.

By the grace of God and the speed of unpaid rent, I escaped.

I hadn't even celebrated my freedom when one village dog looked at me and said,

"My brother... today you are not leaving."

That dog chased me for so long I started respecting my former Physical Education teacher.

After escaping the dog, I looked up and saw...

A military patrol.

At this point, I didn't even wait to hear what they wanted.

My legs submitted an emergency resignation from common sense.

I vanished.

While thanking God for another miracle...

A mad man appeared from nowhere.

He looked me in the eyes with confidence and started chasing me like I had eaten his breakfast, lunch, dinner, and tomorrow's food.

Ladies and gentlemen...

The Olympics owe me an apology.

Just when I finally stopped to breathe...

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Five gunshots.

Behind me.

Did I turn around?

Turn around and see what?

My funeral?

I continued running.

If those bullets weren't looking for me, I wasn't going to introduce myself.

I reached home at exactly 7:00 AM.

No shoes.

No energy.

No dignity.

Only oxygen and unanswered questions.

This morning my body is asking,
"Brother... exactly what were we trying to achieve?"

I've reached one conclusion...

Love is beautiful... but sometimes it comes with DLCs: brothers, soldiers, dogs, patrols, mad men, and mysterious gunshots.

From today onwards...

If she says,

"Everyone is asleep."

I will respectfully reply,

"May they continue sleeping. Good night."

DISCLAIMER: Before anyone calls the police or starts organizing a search party, relax. This is a humorous storytelling post inspired by an unforgettable night. Laugh, tag that friend who would never survive this mission, and remember, some adventures are better left in stories!
This version is paced for Facebook, with short paragraphs, escalating twists, and a humorous ending that encourages readers to react, comment, and tag friends.

✍️ Mariano,
Ghetto President 🥷

01/07/2026

Dear MTN South Sudan,

I come in peace.

As a South Sudanese, an unemployed doctor, a writer whose novels are still sleeping in my laptop because publishing requires money I don't have, and a storyteller whose Facebook content cannot even be monetized because monetization isn't available in our country...

Life is already beating me from every direction.

To make matters worse, I am a Manchester United fan. Imagine carrying that emotional burden for more than a decade without a Premier League or Champions League trophy. Every season begins with hope and ends with therapy.

As if that wasn't enough, I also support a local club in the Juba Premier League. They are so committed to consistency that they consistently lose.

I don't even have a powerful uncle in government to let me taste a single drop of the oil money.

Now, dear MTN Boss...

How exactly do you expect me to survive this traffic adjustment?

I currently have a story series running, but I don't have enough data to upload the next episode. I'm also writing a novel, yet I don't have enough internet to research, edit, and back up my work.

I make you a promise.

The day this novel is published and becomes a bestseller, I'll personally buy plenty of MTN data bundles. I'll even present you with a free signed copy of the novel as a token of appreciation.

For now, kindly consider lending me 20GB. I promise I'll refund you, with interest if the book becomes an international bestseller.

Sometimes I even trek from Gudele 1 to the University of Juba just to use free Wi-Fi. The painful part is arriving there only to discover the Wi-Fi isn't working... then I trek all the way back home, carrying nothing but disappointment and tired legs.

Dear MTN Boss, have mercy on your loyal customer.

Yours faithfully,

A struggling author, a struggling football fan, and now... a struggling data customer.

01/07/2026

❣️Teenager's Love💜

Episode Two: The Beginning of My Academic Downfall 😂

⚠️ DON'T COPY ⚠️

NB: This is a fictional story. All characters, names, places, and events are fictional.

The following morning, I woke up before the rooster.

Not because I had become more prayerful...

But because somebody called Blessing had occupied permanent residence in my brain.

Even my morning prayer was no longer normal.

Instead of saying,

"Lord, guide me today..."

My heart wanted to say,

"Lord... please let me meet Blessing again."

I immediately rebuked myself.

"Get behind me, Satan!"

But somehow, Satan replied,

"I'm not the one thinking about her."

That entire day, I was physically present...

But mentally absent.

At school, the teacher was busy explaining mathematics.

Me?

I was busy calculating the probability of meeting Blessing again.

The teacher asked,

"Mariano, what's the value of X?"

Without thinking, I almost answered,

"Blessing."

The whole class burst into laughter.

Even the teacher looked at me with disappointment.

At break time, my friends noticed something was wrong.

One of them asked,

"Why are you smiling alone like someone who has discovered free money?"

I replied,

"My brother... life is beautiful."

He looked at me carefully.

Then he said,

"You've fallen."

I denied it immediately.

"Me? Never! I'm a child of God."

Deep inside, however...

I was already writing our future children's names.

That evening, I deliberately delayed going to the market.

Not because we had run out of salt.

Not because Mother had sent me.

But because I was hoping that destiny would pass by again.

I stood beside the road pretending to admire the sunset.

Meanwhile, my eyes were conducting a security patrol.

Every girl wearing a blue dress made my heart skip.

Every footsteps sounded like hope.

Then...

From a distance...

I saw someone walking toward me.

My heartbeat started behaving like a generator running out of fuel.

The closer she came...

The clearer her face became.

It was her.

Blessing.

She looked at me...

Smiled...

And said,

"So... were you also sent to the market today?"

I wanted to say,

"Yes."

But my mouth suddenly went on strike.

No words.

No sound.

Only eye contact.

For almost thirty seconds.

She laughed and said,

"Why are you looking at me like you've seen an angel?"

I finally gathered enough courage to reply,

"I was just confirming that yesterday wasn't a dream."

She laughed so hard that even people passing by turned to look at us.

Little did I know...

Someone else had also been watching the entire conversation from a distance.

And that person was about to change everything...

To Be Continued...

✍️ Mariano
Ghetto President ✊🏻

01/07/2026

.

❣️Teenager's Love💜

⚠️ DON'T COPY ⚠️

NB: This is a fictional story. All characters, names, places, and events are products of imagination.

Episode One: The Day My Salvation Was Tested

It was back in 2014.

At that time, I was a devoted child of God.

A peaceful young man.

An innocent gentleman.

A brother who believed romance was for people who had already graduated from holiness.

Then one ordinary evening...

The devil looked at my file, smiled, and whispered,

"Deploy Operation Blessing."

I had no idea my spiritual journey was about to face its greatest examination.

As usual, I was walking to the market, minding my own business and rehearsing gospel songs in my head.

Then...

I saw her.

Her name was Blessing.

Brethren...

Words failed me.

If beauty had a national anthem, she would sing it.

If elegance were a person, she would apply for copyright.

She wasn't just beautiful...

She was the type of girl that made sons of Adam suddenly forget where they were going.

I froze.

Like an electricity pole.

Even blinking became optional.

As she walked toward me, my heart started beating like a generator with no governor.

Suddenly, all the gospel songs disappeared from my playlist.

Without warning, my brain switched from worship to love songs.

I tried to bring back "Amazing Grace."

My mind replied,

"Connection lost."

I attempted another hymn.

My heart responded,

"Error 404: Jesus temporarily unavailable."

At that moment, I couldn't tell whether the Holy Spirit was testing me...
..or the devil had upgraded to 5G.

Before common sense could return, I politely stopped her.

To this day, I still don't know where that confidence came from.

Maybe it was divine courage.

Maybe it was youthful confusion.

We introduced ourselves.

Then she said,

"My name is Blessing."

Immediately I became confused.

How can someone named Blessing look like the beginning of my future problems?

We talked for a few minutes.

Then she smiled and said,

"I have to go. My mother is waiting for me. I still have to cook and do the house chores."

I almost fainted.

I looked at her and asked,

"Wait... you mean someone as beautiful as you washes dishes?"

She nodded.

I continued...

"Does your family actually know you're this beautiful?"

She laughed.

She blushed.

And for the first time in my life...

I understood why some people write poems.

Little did I know...

That conversation was the first page of a story that would later teach me lessons no textbook ever could.

To Be Continued...

If this post gets enough love, I'll release Episode Two.

✍️ Mariano
Ghetto President ✊🏻

29/06/2026

Dear South Sudanese Youth, Tramadol Is Not Giving You Power, It Is Quietly Destroying You.

One of the greatest tragedies in South Sudan today is not only unemployment, poverty, or insecurity. It is the growing addiction to Tramadol among our young men and women.

Walk through our streets, markets, boda stages, construction sites, bars, and even some learning institutions. You will hear people proudly saying:

"Brother, Tramadol gives me energy."

"It makes me stronger."

"It helps me work all day."

"It makes me perform better in bed."

Those statements are not signs of strength.

They are signs of a public health emergency.

As a medical professional, let me make this very clear:

Tramadol was never manufactured to increase your manhood, boost your confidence, make you fearless, or help you become a work machine.

It is a prescription opioid painkiller designed to relieve moderate to severe pain in patients after surgery, injuries, cancer, or other painful medical conditions.

When doctors prescribe it, they carefully consider the correct dose, duration, and the patient's condition.

But what is happening today?

Many of our young people are swallowing Tramadol like chewing gum.

Some take it before going to work.

Some before football.

Some before drinking alcohol.

Some before fighting.

Some before s*x.

Others cannot even begin their day without it.

Sadly, they think they are becoming stronger, while medically they are becoming weaker every single day.

The Science They Don't Tell You

Tramadol works directly on your brain and nervous system.

Initially, it may make you feel energetic, relaxed, confident, or even euphoric.

But that feeling is temporary.

Your brain gradually becomes dependent on the drug.

Soon, one tablet is no longer enough.

You increase the dose.

Then your body starts demanding it every day.

That is called drug dependence, and eventually it becomes addiction.

What Tramadol Abuse Can Do to You

Long-term abuse may lead to:

❌ Addiction

❌ Seizures

❌ Memory loss

❌ Depression

❌ Anxiety

❌ Poor concentration

❌ Hallucinations

❌ Slow breathing

❌ Liver and kidney damage

❌ Loss of s*xual desire

❌ Erectile dysfunction

❌ Infertility

❌ Coma

❌ Death from overdose

Ironically, many people abuse Tramadol believing it improves s*xual performance, yet prolonged misuse may eventually contribute to s*xual dysfunction.

The medicine they believe is making them "stronger" may ultimately leave them physically, mentally, and s*xually weaker.

This Is Bigger Than One Individual

Drug addiction does not destroy only the person taking it.

It destroys families.

It destroys marriages.

It destroys careers.

It destroys communities.

It destroys the future of a nation.

A country cannot build hospitals, universities, businesses, or industries with a generation addicted to painkillers.

To My Fellow Pharmacists

You are not just medicine sellers.

You are healthcare professionals.

Do not turn pharmacies into supermarkets for addictive medicines.

Educate patients.

Refuse irresponsible dispensing.

Protect lives before profits.

To the Government and Regulatory Authorities

Strengthen medicine regulations.

Inspect pharmacies regularly.

Stop illegal drug trafficking.

Invest in mental health and addiction treatment services.

Launch nationwide awareness campaigns before this silent epidemic becomes uncontrollable.

To Security Agencies

Your responsibility is not only guns and criminals.

Illegal medicine trafficking is also a threat to national security.

Cut off the illegal supply chains that continue poisoning our communities.

To Every Parent

Know what your children are taking.

Talk to them.

Guide them.

Support them.

Prevention is always better than rehabilitation.

And Finally, To Every Young South Sudanese

Real strength does not come from swallowing tablets.

Real strength comes from discipline.

From education.

From hard work.

From good health.

From purpose.

From faith.

No medicine can replace character.

Let us stop glorifying drug abuse.

Let us stop normalizing addiction.

Let us save a generation before it is too late.

Because if we remain silent today, tomorrow we shall be mourning a generation that was not killed by war, but by the misuse of a medicine that was originally created to relieve pain.

If you truly care about the future of South Sudan, don't scroll past this message. Share it. Someone out there may be one conversation away from choosing life over addiction.

✍️ Dr. Living.

29/06/2026

How to Live a Simple and Meaningful Life in Juba as a Young Man from this chaotic Era.

In recent years, I have learned that peace is one of the greatest achievements in life.
Not every battle deserves your attention, and not every conflict deserves your voice.

If you genuinely want to grow, protect your reputation, and build a meaningful future, consider these principles:

• Stay away from professional sycophancy. Never become someone's weapon simply because they have influence or money.

• Never allow yourself to be recruited to hate people you have no personal conflict with. Borrowed enemies eventually become your own burden.

• Avoid people who survive entirely on gossip. A person who constantly talks about others will eventually talk about you.

• Stay away from those who make social media wars their daily occupation. Real progress is built through work, not Facebook battles.

• Do not inherit elders' personal conflicts. Many disputes existed long before you were born and may continue long after you. Respect everyone, but don't volunteer to fight battles that are not yours.

• Be careful around people who secretly record conversations and circulate them for personal gain. Trust is difficult to rebuild once broken.

• Avoid people who divide communities into camps while secretly following whoever has money or influence. Principles should never be for sale.

• Never betray your community for temporary benefits. Money, or small favors disappear quickly, but your name and reputation remain for life.

• When two habitual troublemakers are fighting each other, don't become the referee. Distance is sometimes the wisest decision.

• Think carefully before commenting on controversial posts. Words taken out of context can create unnecessary enemies.

• Be cautious of individuals who appear at every meeting, gathering, or ceremony only to collect information, spread rumors, or position themselves for personal advantage. Not everyone who smiles at you is your friend.

• Don't confuse proximity to powerful people with genuine influence. Some people boast about connections they do not truly have and may sacrifice others to protect their own interests.

Above all, invest your energy in education, business, family, faith, genuine friendships, and community development. Build your future instead of building unnecessary enemies.

Peace is not weakness. Silence is not fear. Sometimes, walking away from unnecessary drama is the strongest decision a man can make.

A respected name is built over many years, but it can be destroyed in a single careless moment.

✍️ Mariano,
Ghetto President 🥷

28/06/2026

To the Witch Who Served Me Food in My Dream Last Night...

My dear witch,

First of all...

Shame on you!

If you're going to invite innocent people into their dreams to eat, at least respect your guests.

The soup you served me had absolutely no salt, no pepper, no flavor... nothing!

Even my dream taste buds were disappointed.

I was expecting heavenly seasoning.

Instead, you served me what tasted like boiled regret.

Who trained you?

Which spiritual catering school did you graduate from?

You kidnapped me into your restaurant without my consent...

Then had the audacity to serve food that couldn't even score 1 star on Google Reviews.

⭐☆☆☆? No!

🚫☆☆☆☆

If that's the standard of cooking in your kingdom, then I completely understand why your customers keep escaping through prayers.

Please, I beg you...

Go and learn how to cook before inviting people again.

Watch a few cooking tutorials.

Consult grandmothers.

Borrow recipes.

Do something!

Because if you continue cooking like this...

Even fellow witches will start bringing packed lunch from home.

And one more thing...

The next time you want me in your spiritual restaurant...

Kindly send the menu first.

I don't eat disappointment.

✍️ Mariano,
Ghetto President ✊🏻

Living

14/07/2026

13/07/2026

13/07/2026

02/07/2026

01/07/2026

01/07/2026

01/07/2026

29/06/2026

29/06/2026

28/06/2026

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