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Interview: Emmanuel Jal, musician, former boy soldier


I was about eight years old when I was being trained for the SPLA, the Sudan People’s Liberation Army. I was excited to go, angry — but the actual real training, it was really hard. People died. My mum died in the time of war when I was in the village. My dad sent me with thousands of other kids to school in Ethiopia. He was not aware of what was happening to me.

I shot a documentary film recently, Warchild. I just won an award in New York for it, which was voted for by the audience, which was very inspiring. But the worst thing was that I found my family has been destroyed — most of them died, my aunties, my uncles. I went to meet my father; he is alive.

My small sister got raped in the war, and my big sister was married at 13. She was like a sex slave. It was really bad when I saw them and couldn’t help them — going back with empty hands. I’m trying to get them out.

We did an escape from where I was in Juba, I and a couple of hundred other kids, when the SPLA split from tribal loyalties. It was really hard. People died of starvation, thirst, suicide. One of the deepest points of my life was then, when I was tempted to eat dead bodies. We survived on vultures, rats, and things. Then we bumped into a refugee place where I met Emma McCune, a British aid worker who took me to Kenya. She later died in a car accident. I was left in a different world, and I started to get my life together.

My talent started in Kenya. I was a committed youth in the church there, and began writing gospel and rap. I had a single which became a hit, and that got me international attention. That’s how Bob Geldof asked me to perform at Live Aid.

I have a new album, also called Warchild. It’s good music that you can give your children to listen to. And there’s my first album which I ever did, Gua, which is on i-tunes. That’s pure gospel music. And I hope to be performing at the Greenbelt Festival.

What I realise is: I’m responsible for my own happiness. I don’t rely on anyone to make me happy. I have friends; I’m very busy. Sometimes I go to church, where there are a lot of young people, and I get blessed. I spend most of my time when I am busy being with people; so I enjoy having time alone. Most of my life I’ve been affected by war. Most of the people I loved have died. I find it hard to put too much energy into friends.

I’m like a normal refugee: not settled in one place. Home is where I’m comfortable — where I’m loved.

Music itself is innocent; sound is innocent. God created music for us to worship him, and to enjoy. You have to ask, what are the words dedicated to?

The reason why rock conquered the world is because of the beat — it charms young people. Rap has been used to preach the gospel and change governments in Africa. Young people make the beat and say what they don’t like about the government, and the message seems to pass quickly.

I listen to everything because now I’m educating myself: rock, reggae, blues, country. I like the way the country singers are so genial.

Most of my writing happens like this: the tune comes first, and the lyrics come later. Mostly it is inspired by horrific events, but I transform the energy into something positive. I’m a Christian and inspired by faith. I keep my faith to myself and get on with my work, but if people see how I live, they may look at my actions and decide for themselves.

Being a Christian is the easiest thing: Jesus died for you. The worst part is when you try to be religious. That is when you mess things up.

When I am growing old, I’d love to have a family, if God blesses me with one. A black woman, a white woman, a Japanese woman — I wouldn’t care. God makes us all different colours. If he didn’t, it would be boring.

I have a UK-registered charity called Gua Africa. I have lost my childhood, but if I can give back something — help two or three children — it’s amazing. We are currently trying to build a school and an orphanage in Kenya. We try to help survivors of war, and put them into school, college, or university if they have potential.

Emma McCune rescued over 150 children, though she was just a middle-class English lady. I think she was very brave. I didn’t have the chance to say thank you to her; so I did it through a song on my album. And a Kenyan lady in my church, Mrs Mumo, who opened my mind to the world, and to the two Martin Luthers.

If you listen to my album you will be shocked: there’s a message there, and it’s a true story I am writing about. But there’s a song “The Shadow of Death”, which uses the Bible, “Though I walk through the shadow of death. . .”, that’s more encouraging.

I like the verse: “To all who receive him and believe in his name, he gave the right to become God’s children.” I think that’s John 1.12.

I get angry sometimes. It depends on what’s happening, but I tend to control it. I’m constantly all right. I rarely get upset.

Everything is maximised when I go to church and hear the choir, or when I perform and the audience is amazing. If I am in the world, people want to rob my joy and steal my happiness. But I am responsible for my own happiness. Let me see what I can contribute into their life. If they say something to make me happy, that’s nice.

If I get a chance, I do buy fairtrade, but when I went to the bottom of it, I found it’s very mixed up. You can buy something and find some kid in China has made it for two cents. Let me buy whatever. I hope it’s as fairtrade as much as possible.

I’m trying to adapt to take holidays. I’m learning that here. I think it helps. I’m going to try and go on holiday.

I used to go on retreat in Kenya, in 2003 to 2004. We would go somewhere quiet with a bunch of young people. That’s how we encouraged each other to read the scriptures, and motivated ourselves to keep going.

I pray: “God give me strength, God give me wisdom. What do I say? What do I tell them?” When you’re a musician, you’re a leader. In a way, you’re a preacher. I don’t know about being a pastor. It has to come from your heart — it has to be a calling — to be a pastor. It’s a big responsibility.

How many years would I be locked in this church? If I was locked in a church with God, all I would need is a Bible, a piano, a couple of guitars. When you’ve got music and instruments, you’d not go crazy. When you sing, you’d not go crazy. When you got out, perhaps you’d be a supernatural person.

Emmanuel Jal was talking to Terence Handley MacMath. His album Warchild is released by Sonic 360. His book, Warchild: A boy soldier’s story, will be published next year.



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