They carry all they own from desert slums and stack it near big trucks. They’re packing to go home to southern Sudan, even those who have never been there but have heard stories of tribal chiefs and cattle herds roaming the grasslands.
Boys haul bed frames; women bundle blankets. Rare trinkets of a poor man’s wealth — a TV, a fan — shine in the dust. But most families claim much less: bags of grain, tin pots and memories that have kept a lost place alive.
“Our children were born in north Sudan, but their hearts are southern,” said Francis Jackson, a slender tribesman holding a folder crammed with the names of those preparing to leave. “The south is much better. We have no freedom here.”