Sudan: An Interview with Sudanese Hip-Hop Star Emmanuel Jal

Emmanuel Jal is perhaps the unlikeliest of the world's hip-hop stars. A former child soldier in Sudan's brutal civil war, his life is a tale of both unspeakable tragedy and incredible triumph. Certainly no one in music has overcome longer odds on his way to success.

Jal is now the subject of C. Karim Chrobog's award-winning documentary War Child, which makes its debut in select theaters this month. War Child chronicles the odyssey of Jal's existence, from his conscription into the military at age seven to his present-day existence as a musician, advocate, philanthropist, and de facto ambassador for the Sudanese people.

I recently had the pleasure of talking with Jal about his homeland, his music, and the film that was born of his remarkable story.

Going back to your childhood and your time as a soldier: You were made to do many things that would be unimaginable for most adults, let alone a young boy. Is it possible to make sense of those experiences? And how have you been able to transcend them?

EMMANUEL JAL: If I think about my childhood, and I think about everything, it's depressing. There's nothing amazing about it. I lost it. I didn't get to play with other kids. My childhood was broken by war. My village was burned down. Anything that happens in your past, you need to live with it. You can't look back; it's just depressing. When you have lost something and you lose hope, that's when you become suicidal. I was suicidal in Kenya, especially when Emma died.

Emma McCune was a British aid worker, and she adopted you. What kind of impact did she have on your life?

Emma made a big difference. We met after I had survived the hundreds of miles I traveled. I spoke a lot of English so she smuggled me into Kenya in a funny way: I had no documents or anything, but I was wearing her clothes and shoes and pretended to be her little brother. That's where everything began. She put me in a good school. Unfortunately, she died before I had the chance to say thank you. The song "Emma" is written for her.

She was killed in a car accident that many people view with suspicion.

It was never clear how she died. No investigation was done, nothing was done. It was a shock for everybody. I don't know the answer. It brings up old wounds to investigate, so they just left it. Emma is buried where we want to build the school. I will call it Emma Academy.

What happened to you after Emma's death?

My life became crushed. I lost hope. There was no one to pay my school fees. I had to figure it out for myself. Music was all I had to throw my pain into.

War Child includes plenty of archival footage, including National Geographic clips from the 1980s in which you are featured. It's striking to see you as a young boy, speaking on behalf of the other child soldiers. How did you wind up on camera?

We had just finished playing. The filmmakers just came and started filming us. Years later, I was in London and friends of mine were watching archival footage of a little kid named Jal talking about his dreams and hopes. They called me and said he looked like me. I told the documentary guys that I had footage of me as a child and they couldn't believe it.

Emmanuel Jal

What is it like to watch that footage now?

It humbles me. It pushes me back. It strengthens me. It gives me pain, but it's pain that inspires me. It gives me strength to see where I was then and where I am now.

Tell me about how you came to make music.

In Kenya, I used to go to church because I was suffering a lot. We got free concerts there, and I used to go watch. They gave me a good feeling. I went home happy. I even listened to Puff Daddy singing a religious song! I learned a lot by watching videos. My first album was gospel, called Gua. It is available on iTunes.

What do you hope to accomplish with your music?

My music is for me, and also to pass information to the people. In Africa music was used for telling stories. I'm just telling stories, making history. We never had books to write history, so we just learned the music and that's how we stored information. For me, I sing out of pain, but that's where my therapy is. I've never told anyone my story in therapy. Just music. Actually the music has played a big part, because that's where I found acceptance. I dance on the stage, I have fun, I feel like a kid again. I forget that I am 28 years old.

You often speak to other child soldiers and refugees. What do you tell them?

I just tell them, you may be where you are now, but it doesn't mean you'll always be like that. Don't let your dreams leave you. Praying will open doors for you. Being a refugee is like being in a big prison where diseases spread, there's less food, no education, you can't find your family. Police beat you if you leave the camp. It's not home.

The roots of the Sudanese conflict are so complex, and frankly, they are unknown
to many of us.

We have in Northern Sudan the people who were converted into Islam, while the people from the South kept their culture. The North is funded by Arab countries. We in the South were taught to hate the Muslims.

What is happening there today? What is the state of relations between Arab Sudanese and African Sudanese?

There is a big, big, big tension. The Arab Sudanese don't know their history. They think they're Arabs, but they're Sudanese. It's like the system in America: the lighter-skinned you are, the easier it is to get a job. The Arabs in Sudan take pride in being "Arabs" because Arabs are lighter. But they're only Arabs on the inside. When I was a kid, it confused me. I kept looking for people with lighter skin than me, but I realized that Arab Sudanese were dark like me.

Who are your musical heroes?

I have a lot of respect for Public Enemy. Tupac has been a big influence in Africa. And I think he was misunderstood, but I understood his pain. Naz. I like old school rappers. Wyclef. The old school dudes. Good hip-hop. A long time ago, you could go to a hip-hop club and hear music and leave happy. Nowadays, you're lucky if you leave clean.

You are now working to build a school in your home village of Leer in Sudan. Tell us a little bit about that. How is the project going?

The project came when [director] Karim [Chrobog] wanted to shoot the documentary. At the time, a lot of people were telling me they'd make me famous and rich. Karim came and said, "Speak for your people. In the end we'll help you build a school." I wanted to build a school for my people. The reason there's war in my country is that people don't communicate. They aren't educated. In the South and the North there's a big barrier, but education can break it. They are blocking us from going to school. They don't want us to learn. All the intelligent people---the doctors, the lawyers, and so on---they killed them. When you're clever and point out the bad things, they kill you. This is true on both sides of the conflict. People don't know the power of the dollar. One dollar makes all the difference. We want to teach people how to make their own lives, not to make lives for them. I believe in education. If the only thing I could do now was build a school, I'd be very happy. I won't sleep until the last brick has been laid in that school.

What can people do to help?

If people want to donate to the school, the link is www.emmaacademyproject.com. The best thing you can give is education. If we build a school, that's 2,000 kids who can grow up and be something. It's what my people are hungry for.

Thank you for your time.

You're welcome. Thank you.