E-mail a friendEmmanuel Jal
airdate March 30, 2009
Emmanuel Jal started singing to help ease the pain of being on the front lines of combat in war-torn Sudan and has gone from child soldier in his native country to rap star. With its messages of peace and reconciliation, "WARchild" is his third album and international solo debut, as well as the title of both a much anticipated autobiography and an acclaimed documentary. Jal is the first hip-hop artist to address U.N. delegates and is a spokesman for several humanitarian campaigns. He's also founder of Gua Africa charity.
Hip-hop star shares how the Lost Boys of Sudan had the same birthday. (2:02)
Full interview. (13:51)
Emmanuel Jal
Tavis: At the age of seven, Emmanuel Jal was separated from his family in Sudan, given an AK-47 and told he would have to learn to kill without reason in order to defend his country.
But like many of the other Lost Boys of Sudan, Emmanuel was able to survive his brutal childhood and has gone on to become one of Africa's best-known hip-hop stars. A new memoir about his life is called "War Child: A Child Soldier's Story." A new documentary about his ordeal is also out now - it's called "War Child." Here now, a scene from "War Child."
[Clip]
Tavis: Emmanuel, nice to have you on the program.
Emmanuel Jal: Thank you, sir. Thank you.
Tavis: You don't know how old you are, exactly, because you don't know exactly what year you were born, yes?
Jal: Yeah, I don't know when I was actually born, but I've put a day to be, like, 1st of January, 1980 - just a figure to work with.
Tavis: Why is it that you don't know?
Jal: When war happened, there was no documents. We lost everything that we had, so there was no records. Even my mom, who knows when I was born, the birthday certificates - there's no records of when I was born.
Tavis: So you claimed January 1, 1980.
Jal: Yes. That's how all Lost Boys say.
Tavis: The same birthday?
Jal: Yeah.
Tavis: And you claim that date why, now?
Jal: Just have a figure that is clean to begin with - 1st of January.
Tavis: So you celebrate your birthday on January 1.
Jal: Sometime; I forget. I've never celebrated, but I'm hoping to celebrate it someday.
Tavis: So you just forget. (Laughter) It's a fascinating story. That's why I want to start our conversation there, because it speaks to what was happening in your country that so much was going on that kids, who were obviously still young as you are, don't even know their exact date of birth because the records, as you said, and everything else were destroyed in this process.
What are your earliest childhood memories? Take me back to the earliest memories you have of your childhood.
Jal: My childhood is really disturbing and haunting, but sometime I had no choice. I have to talk about it because people need to hear it. I'll say I've lost my childhood because I was born in the time when my country was at war and even when I'm about to get to enjoy what life is we lost our village, my mom died, and we are constantly running from one place to another.
And then later on we're told we're going to Ethiopian school, so schools became a military training place. And I got used to seeing people dying every now and then. So my childhood has been awful (unintelligible).
Tavis: What are your recollections about when they came to you, basically put a gun in your hand, and tell you that you're going to be taught to be a child soldier? What do you recall about that?
Jal: You see, for people (unintelligible) understand how things happen in south Sudan. Everything that we own, we lost it, so now here I'm being told, "You're going to be trained to be a child - you're going to be trained to be a soldier." And the first thing that came to my head was my village burning, was my mother screaming.
One thing that made me really, really bitter was the one encounter when my mother was beaten close to me and I tried to go and protect my mom, and I was small and I was beaten and I blacked out. So there was a feeling in my heart that I can only call maybe bitterness or pain, and that's what motivated me to be trained and forget that I'm even a child.
And also because we realize it's a war that we are fighting on our own, there was no support. And adults are going and people are dying, so everybody was willing to be trained.
Tavis: As a child, what did you think - how did you process what you were fighting for? What were you fighting for?
Jal: I didn't know what we were fighting for. I had my own reasons. I wanted to revenge. But I didn't know, and the thing that I've seen, I hated Muslims and I hated Arabs and I wanted to kill as many as possible. That's what I've seen because I've seen my village destroyed and that's the image that was built. And I'm (unintelligible) these other people. And so that's what I was going to fight for.
And only later on that I was told, in the book where I meet some (unintelligible) that's not the reason (unintelligible). So a lot of us don't know why we're fighting.
Tavis: But you end up in this military school, basically, being taught how to fight. Take me through how you escape from those conditions over a period of time.
Jal: Well, the escape was one morning one of my friends just woke me up, and I thought it was just a normal way of which we are going to take maybe ammunition to the front line or take food. But actually, it was an escape. This part of the journey is one of the lowest part in my life that up to now became a source of strength for me.
Because I've seen people dying every time, but this is the part where we ran out of food, so people started eating snails, vultures, and everything. So cannibalism began, and one of the toughest moments was when I was tempted to eat my friends. My friend died and I was planning to eat him the next morning. So I look at him and said, "Look, I have nothing to eat, but tomorrow morning, I'll eat you."
And so between that, I had to pray, as my mother used to do, and a bird came and I started - that's the bird that stopped me from eating a friend of mine. And I ended up in a place called (unintelligible) where I happened to meet a British aid worker called (unintelligible) McCune, and she smuggled me into Kenya.
Tavis: You were smuggled by yourself, or you were smuggled in with others?
Jal: She smuggled only me. I don't know why it happened that she has to be picking me only. I have a couple of friends that died. There's one that we put bombs around him so that we trap the dead body to use if hyenas come, so we'd eat the hyenas, but that one failed and that's why I wanted to eat - because there was a guy who was with us, a magician who started eating dead bodies.
And that's where - because the feeling was you're sitting next to somebody, you're so hungry, your senses change and you become like an animal. You sit next to somebody, they smell like food. You don't even want to roast them - you want to eat them alive. That's how my senses were. So I thought I was alone, but I had to battle the fear.
Tavis: Tell me about your new life that you start where you were smuggled to.
Jal: I went to school, the life was different - a culture shock. It was a different kind of life. The lady who rescued me died, so everything of mine collapsed down. And this is where music made a meaning to me, because I used to go to a church and then it's like a free concert.
Amazing choir sing and you become happy, you go home. And so I normally go every Sunday for that, and when a pastor come to preach I go home. But after a while, I just said, "Let me listen."
Tavis: (Laughs) You just went for the music, huh?
Jal: (Laughs) Yes, sir.
Tavis: And then eventually you started saying for the word.
Jal: I started staying for the word. I said, "Oh, this man is encouraging me." And then that's how everything flowed and I started doing music. And I was doing it for fun. I was doing it because there's a feeling it gives me - it keeps me happy.
And when I began writing music, the thoughts, the nightmares, the everything that I had was going. I could only call the feeling now, I would say maybe it's - I would call it a therapy. In my life, I didn't have a therapy. I didn't go and see a therapist to tell my story.
Tavis: So writing, for you, became therapy - the writing, the music?
Jal: The therapy that I didn't write my story. I used to (unintelligible). Nobody knows my story, because I used to sing the normal songs that they sing, and I'd write my own songs and sing and yes, we have (unintelligible) dancing.
So the feeling that I got from that music was what kept me happy, and so I kept on going there. And I didn't know I was developing a career, because I started performing, raising funds for street children and Lost Boys of Sudan with the - when I do a small - and then all of a sudden my music became popular in Kenya, and then I got attention abroad and I started touring, and now I'm feeding myself with my music.
Tavis: When did you decide and what helped you to decide that the time was right to finally tell your story? Because by your earlier point, when you first started writing you didn't want to tell your story in your lyrical content, but you finally decided you wanted to tell your story, what made you decide that the time was right to tell your story?
Jal: Sometime, you see, it's the way people look at you. When I first step in Kenya, somebody know oh, he's the next child soldier. Everybody look down upon you, or the way they misjudge, oh, they've killed, they're like this, they are rude.
And also, I didn't accept my identity. I hated being Black, I hated my color, and I hated - I wanted to hide in the system. But in the time when I happened to see everything is going when I say look, if I tell my story it's just writing history, just about what happened, and people are going to learn.
And if I'm not going to change the world, but at least I'll touch somebody's life to be able to make a difference in a child's life because I'm here today because of one person who risked her life to bring me here, so she smuggled me. And so when I started doing that, I saw the impact on people - what it does and how people want to help and how it opens people's hearts. And so that's why I kept on doing it.
Tavis: You ever think about why you? Why you got out, why you made it when so many of your friends and your family obviously did not?
Jal: That's where the guilt is, because all my journey I'm with a group of people, people die, I survive. And I always ask myself, why did I survive? Everywhere I go and something happens, I survive. And now, I'm here when I'm eating in a nice place, actually, it's always stressed me. And that's why I'm busy, I'm telling the story, maybe that's the reason.
I have a song called "War Child" in my album - an album called "War Child -" where I say, "I believe I've survived for a reason, to tell my story, to touch lives." And even one of the things that I'm doing now, because when you're in this situation there's a lot of guilt, and for you to clean away guilt is by doing some good. When you do some good you feel - you cleanse those bad things that you have done.
So for me at the moment, today's day number 113 in which I eat one meal a day because I promised kids in south Sudan until I raise the money to build a school, I'm not going to eat my breakfast and my lunch and no snacks. And so I feel good that I'm doing it because I'm in a place where I'm choosing not to eat because I want to do something.
So it makes me feel better, in a way, but the reason I'm telling the story is because I want people to know. My country has been at war and people are ignoring us. So passing my voice out is going to help open people's heart and people's mind to be able to do something.
Tavis: You're on day 113 right now, as we talk, of your hunger strike?
Jal: Yeah.
Tavis: How's your fundraising going along?
Jal: The fundraising - it's beginning to gain momentum. First we have raised $84,000 and we are - our target is $300,000. But the word is I'd rather get $1 million from one million people than a one-off donation from one person, because getting - or getting 10,000 people to help me build that school, it means 10,000 people know about my story and knows about my cause and believe in my struggle.
Tavis: You're doing some righteous work, and I'm glad to have you on the program.
Jal: Sure, thank you for opening the door.
Tavis: No, please, I'm glad to. And I've got a check for you when we get off the air here.
Jal: Oh. (Laughs)
Tavis: For your school. I can make a contribution to your school myself. His name is Emmanuel Jal. His memoir is called "War Child: A Child Soldier's Story." The documentary, the movie is called "War Child," and he is on day 113 right now of a hunger strike, raising money for a school in Sudan. Emmanuel, nice to have you on the program.
Jal: Thank you, sir. Thank you.
Tavis: All right.
Back to March 30, 2009