I’m finishing up an album out for release next year called War Child and am doing a book about my story. I've got a documentary coming up called 'War Child' as well. There’s a lot going on at the moment.

The book is one of the most difficult tasks. It's heavier than the documentary. The doc is just asking me a few things, the book is reaching the cause, my life and my heart. It’s a big journey. I feel like I should give it to the people because people really want to hear it. Everywhere I go people still want to know the whole story.

I hope it will make an impact because I want to use it to represent the struggle of my people in Sudan - what they’ve gone through and what I’ve gone through. Also to give the chance, if it can, to make a voice for peace, because war is not the solution. Nobody wins in times of war; everyone loses.

In my village it was fun, even in the times of the war. There was a lot of drumming and singing. What I love about the children is even when villages were burned, the children still play. There’s a dissing game they used to play, kind of like hip-hop.

Somebody would hit a stick [to signal your turn] and somebody would say, “Your sister's breasts are so large that when she’s milking the cow she has to tie them around her neck.” It used to be a competition like that, and different kids from different villages would come. Whoever cracked the highest joke on their turn of the stick, their group wins.

But, to be honest, I hadn’t had a peaceful childhood. It was war. The village burned down and we saw people raped. My cousin was raped in front of me, and we saw helicopters slashing our villages. It was just awful. There was no time that I could say I enjoyed having a nice, decent town. And that’s why I was convinced to go to Ethiopia.

When we were taken to Ethiopia we actually went to schools, but most of the kids who came had witnessed hostility and their homes burned. Some of them had worse stories than me, and everybody was bitter. When we were asked if we were willing to be soldiers, everyone’s hand was up because everybody wanted to avenge their families.

I had bitterness in my life. I wanted to kill as many Arabs as possible, to be honest...as many Muslims as I could. When I was in Juba, I was never satisfied. I had friends who would tell me, “I killed sixteen men.” They used to grab me [to go with them] because I wanted to kill more and more. That was the desire.

A lot of young people there are violent, have guns and want to shoot. It’s the message they are being given. When they go out of a hostile situation, are not rehabilitated and have the bitterness, they still end up doing crime and tit-for-tat business.

Also what’s happening in Palestine...What they need to understand is that no one wins - no one wins war. Even in the Japan war that had been "won," a nuclear bomb was dropped. So, actually nobody won because there’s still the guilt in America. Everybody loses in a war because millions of monies are spent, and even if you win it, there’s the guilt because a lot of innocent people have died. And that’s one thing people tend to forget.

I always say peace is the only way out. If there’s any way people can compromise and see the importance of peace and try love, that would be good. The media is just messing up things; they aren’t giving the proper message to motivate people to do the right thing.

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I was lucky because there was one British aid worker who was brave enough to smuggle me. Her name is Emma McCune. While spending time with her, she kind of mothered me or became a good sister for me. The attention she gave helped a lot for putting me back into the community, although it was difficult for me to be integrated into normal community because my mind had matured differently than other people’s. People would say, "He was a child soldier, he must have killed people."

It depends who picks you, and what message they invest into your heart and mind, for it to grow. I grew up with people who were giving me positive messages and encouraging me to be somebody great someday.

When I came to Kenya and I realized that it's not about the Muslims and the Arabs, I understood the politics. Not all Arabs are bad. Not all Muslims are bad. I was put in school with Muslim and Arab kids, and we’d all play football together and were exchanging gifts. I was wondering, 'How come these Arab kids aren’t horrible like those ones in Sudan?'

In Chad I got to know politics more...and more about life. I read about the Koran and I realized that the people who are preaching it are not preaching what it is supposed to be. And when I read the bible, I learned a lot from Jesus. The peace, and the pathway that says if you forgive somebody, you're actually freeing yourself. I tried doing those things and it helped me to be free - to be conscious and know how to act. The healings begin when you forgive.

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When I came to Kenya, I saw hip-hop. At the time I thought that the people who rapped were Kenyan, so it took me a while to understand that they were black Americans. I started listening more to them and developing my skills into the modern hip-hop style.

I love the Lost Boys, man. “One for the money, two for the show” (laughs). When I became more mature, there was Ice Cube and Tupac. Tupac killed everything because he was realistic and convincing. Tupac speaks about his struggle, but it translates to everybody’s struggle in their own life. That’s what I like about him. He’s the one person who explains what’s really the problem in America.

Later I listened to the Gospel Gangstaz and the GRITS from America, just to see if I could improve on my skills. When I listen for message I go for GRITS and Tupac. In Africa we use music for communication and for telling times, seasons, prophecies and celebrating different occasions, and those two do it all. Also reggae’s a big thing. In Africa, reggae music’s number one because it speaks reality.

I like conscious stuff. At this stage we need political musicians. In the 60s and 70s, the time Bob Marley and John Lennon were around, there was an impact made by music, and life was improving. Look at the civil rights movement. I think we need more people like those.

The music industry is dominated by pop, a lot of sex messages and nothing of substance. We need music that is real and will bring people together for a cause. In America it’s about the party, and now is not time to party, because there is war. Iraq is in crisis, people in Palestine are dying every day, the Darfur situation. There’s a lot of things that people need to know, because when people know, they want to change it.

Music is the only thing that enters your cell system, your brain, your mind, your soul, all without your permission. One thing I remember, the government of Sudan put together a concert for peace and, we hired an Arab musician to come and sing for us. I couldn’t understand why we invited an Arab musician. I asked one of the commanders. He said musicians have no enemies, they represent the people.

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I’ve played in Uganda, South Africa, Kenya, I can’t remember the other parts of Africa I played in. Recently, I toured Europe and America just to see how people react to my music.

I was shocked when I came to America. I thought to myself, “Who’s going to come to my shows? Nobody knows who Emmanuel Jal is.” I was shocked when I saw people coming into the packed room and enjoying.

When I was at the Senate, I spoke from my heart because I know how important aid is for a refugee. When you’re a refugee, you ran away from your home, you lost everything that you own, your government wants to kill you, and now you're in a camp, just waiting for food and you don’t know what’s next. Refugees come and it's like a big prison. You can’t go anywhere far, and diseases spread quickly.

Women get raped in the camps. Even the refugees themselves do such things. I’m just imagining now how in Ethiopia, we were just 100,000 people. Now the Darfur people are three million - that’s massive. That’s why when I was there, I was trying to do everything possible to tell my story ... speak as much as I can to leak a message into the people’s hearts so they can act quickly.

I was glad to see those desires coming out. Not only for my efforts, but because of different people who’ve done a lot of work like the university students who do rallies for Darfur. All those people have done an amazing job. I thought, 'This is the moment that I have to do something for Darfur.'

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I recently went home to tape my documentary. Going back was deep. Going back was really hard. I’ve gone back before because I was taken back to Sudan against my will, but I escaped again. When I went back to meet my family, the situation was horrible because I came to learn the stories of my sister and what happened.

I realized that the war had reached the core of my family. My small sister got raped several times in the war and then she was exchanged to one of the militias as a sex slave. Seeing her and not being able to help, and having to leave Sudan was painful for me. I was almost bitter again and wanting to go back to war, hating the Sudanese Arabs. But I said, "No, I can't fight."

I said, "OK, fine. There’s nothing I can do, but if I’m here, let me make as much noise as possible." I’ve already forgiven. What I’m doing is still war, but a peaceful fight.

In one on my songs I say, “I believe I survived for a reason. To tell my story to touch lives”. If I’m around here, then I must represent the people. The war is not yet over; even now people are still in fear and anything can happen. In Sudan, the government is jeopardizing the peace and I’ve got to represent. I’m the voice of the voiceless.

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Check out more on Emmanuel Jal [3]
Hear Emmanuel Jal's latest tracks [4]

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