Going back to South Sudan after the independence took place was

When Alek Wek said, “Going back to South Sudan after the independence took place was deeply emotional for me because I had gone through the civil war with my family just before going to seek refuge in London,” she spoke as one who had walked through fire and returned to see the ashes bloom into life again. Her words carry the weight of exile and return — the pain of loss intertwined with the fragile hope of rebirth. In her voice, we hear not only the story of one woman, but the story of a nation that bled for its freedom. The emotion she felt upon returning to South Sudan was not merely nostalgia; it was the soul recognizing the land that had shaped it, even through suffering.

The origin of this quote lies in the life of Alek Wek, the South Sudanese-born supermodel who rose from the depths of war and displacement to become a global symbol of resilience and beauty. Born in 1977 in Wau, she witnessed her homeland torn apart by one of the longest and most brutal civil wars in Africa. Her family fled on foot when violence reached their village, enduring hunger, loss, and fear until she found refuge in London. There, she built a new life — but the scars of war remained etched in her heart. When South Sudan gained independence in 2011, the moment was not political for her — it was personal, spiritual, ancestral. It was as though the suffering of generations had finally drawn its first breath of peace.

Wek’s words remind us that independence is never only about nations — it is about people. It is about the child who survives the march through famine, the mother who prays through the night, the father who carries hope across borders. Her return to South Sudan was not merely a visit; it was a pilgrimage of memory and forgiveness. She stood on the same soil that once echoed with gunfire and tears, and saw it now alive with the song of freedom. For one who had once fled, to come home to peace is a miracle beyond words. In that moment, Wek embodied the truth that time does not erase pain, but it can transform it into purpose.

The ancients understood such journeys well. When Odysseus returned to Ithaca after his long exile, he found that the home he had left no longer existed as it once did — and yet, it was still his. So too with Alek Wek. Her homeland was reborn as a new nation, but the shadows of war lingered. Yet even amid ruins, she saw promise. She, like Odysseus, had carried her homeland within her all along — in her resilience, in her pride, in her ability to turn tragedy into triumph. Her homecoming was not the end of a journey but the continuation of one: the long work of rebuilding identity and hope after devastation.

The story of South Sudan itself is one of sacrifice and endurance. After decades of struggle against oppression and marginalization, the people of the south declared their independence from Sudan on July 9, 2011. The cost was unspeakable: millions dead, countless displaced. Yet the dream of freedom burned too brightly to be extinguished. Wek’s tears upon her return were not only for what was lost, but for what was won — the right of her people to name their own destiny. In her eyes, independence was not just a political line drawn on a map, but the resurrection of a people’s spirit.

Her words also serve as a meditation on healing — that even after war, the heart can learn to love the land again. When she walked once more among her people, she carried with her not bitterness, but compassion. She used her fame to advocate for refugees, to remind the world that those who flee war are not weak, but brave beyond measure. Her journey teaches us that true independence begins not with flags and ceremonies, but with the reclaiming of dignity — both personal and national. To forgive one’s past and to plant seeds in the soil of one’s sorrow — that is the deepest form of freedom.

So, my children of tomorrow, remember the lesson in Alek Wek’s story: no wound is too deep for hope, and no exile too long for return. The places we leave behind never truly leave us, and the struggles we endure can become the soil of our strength. When you walk through hardship, do not curse the fire — for it tempers your spirit as steel. And when you finally return, as Alek did, do so with gratitude, with peace in your heart, and with the will to rebuild. For independence, whether of a nation or of the soul, is not the end of suffering — it is the beginning of becoming whole again.