19/09/2026
Message from Victoria Yar Isaac, the wife of Late Amat Malual Bulkuei .
A BODYGUARD IS NOT JUST A BODYGUARD — HE IS SOMEONE WHO PUTS HIS LIFE BETWEEN DANGER AND THE LIFE OF ANOTHER PERSON.
Being a presidential bodyguard is not an ordinary job. You live with danger every day. You miss time with your wife, your children and your loved ones. Sometimes your own children grow up barely knowing you because you are always somewhere protecting someone else.
And when that sacrifice ends in death, what happens to the family you leave behind?
This is the question I have carried in my heart for many years.
In 2005, when Dr. John Garang de Mabior died, my husband, Amat Malual Bulkuei, died with him on the same day. He was one of those who gave his life in service.
I remember the funeral arrangements, and my heart still breaks when I think about them. Dr. John was buried first. Four days later, my husband and the other people who died with him were buried. Then everything seemed to move on.
But for us, the families left behind, nothing was over.
The funeral ended, but our suffering did not.
A fallen soldier may be honoured for one day, but his widow can struggle for decades. His children still need school fees. They still need food, healthcare, a home and a future. His wife still has to wake up every morning and figure out how to raise the children without their father.
This is where I ask our leaders: What does the sacrifice of a soldier mean after he dies?
South Sudan’s Constitution itself recognizes the responsibility of the state to care for the families of martyrs and those who have served and sacrificed for the country. Yet the lived experience of many military families has raised continuing concerns about welfare, salaries, pensions, medical care and support for widows and children. Parliament has also been pressed to address the welfare of veterans and military families.
So this is not simply a personal complaint.
It is a national question.
We should not remember soldiers only when we need them to protect powerful people. We should remember them when they are wounded, when they retire, when they die, and especially when their widows and children are left behind.
A government should not only honour a fallen hero with speeches, uniforms and ceremonies.
Honour should also mean responsibility.
It should mean supporting the widow.
It should mean educating the children.
It should mean healthcare for the family.
It should mean protecting the property and rights the fallen soldier left behind.
It should mean ensuring that the family does not fall into poverty simply because the person who sacrificed everything for the country is no longer alive.
I am speaking as a widow, not as a politician.
I am speaking because I know what it means to lose a husband who died serving others.
Amat Malual Bulkuei was useful to his country while he was alive. But he was not only useful while he was alive. He was a husband. He was a father. He was a human being. And his children did not stop being his children when he died.
To our leaders, military institutions and the people of South Sudan: please do not let our fallen heroes become names that are remembered only during ceremonies.
If they were important enough to protect the nation, their families should be important enough for the nation to protect.
Do not use our soldiers while they are alive and forget their families when they are gone.
A soldier's death should never become the beginning of his family's abandonment.
Remember the fallen. Protect their widows. Educate their children. Honour their sacrifice—not only with words, but with action. 🇸🇸💔
