SOUTH SUDAN - Nothing prepares you for South Sudan. Nothing prepares you for this destitute country, with its smells and its scenes.
Going here is like going through a time machine: to board your plane you walk by foot to the tarmac, and when you present your documents at the border control, the officer doesn't have a pen to sign your passport.
Once you leave the airport, kids swarm toward you in search of a handout. In a country where most people rely on charity, a foreigner is a potential gold mine.
South Sudan is one of the most impoverished countries in the world, with unemployment at almost 70 percent, a life expectancy of 42 and one of the highest infant mortality rates and illiteracy.
Most people live in mud huts, and only a handful have access to running water (which there should not be a shortage of due to the Nile) or the electricity grid.
There very few paved roads, and movement is carried out mostly on dirt paths that become useless during the rainy season.
In the capital city Juba, there are no tourist attractions, cinemas or malls. The only real restaurants are at the small number of hotels, where locals never go.
The residents eat at home, and if they want to grab a bite somewhere they go to a stand on the road.
With an average income of about 1 dollar per day, most people live very close to the poverty line .
South Sudan is one of the youngest countries in the world. It gained independence only eight years ago, after 99 percent of its people voted yes in a referendum on whether to split Sudan into two entities: South Sudan, where there is a majority of Christians, and the northern part, where there is a majority of Muslims.
Prior to that, South Sudan had a de facto autonomy that was created following a civil war dating back to the 1980s, which resulted in millions of people being displaced or killed.
In 2013 the South Sudanese Civil War broke out between the two biggest tribes, the Dinka and the Nuer. This conflict also saw massive casualties. Reports of atrocities also emerged, including systematic massacres of kids and rape.
In 2015, the war ended, but the arms embargo that was imposed on South Sudan has remained in force because the three conditions spelled out by the United Nations for lifting it – democratization, disbandment of the military and the prosecution of war criminals – have not been met.
As a result, South Sudan has stagnated. The local currency is not worth the paper it is printed on and its value depreciates every day. In a country that relies almost entirely on imports or charity, the chance for change is almost non-existent.
This is a tragedy, not just because of the impoverished conditions; it's a tragedy because the country has everything you could think of for a flourishing economy – copious amounts of oil, and an abundance of minerals and ores, including gold, diamonds and copper.
Oil has become a bone of contention for South Sudan and Sudan. It is produced in the south but then shipped to Sudan's refineries in Khartoum and then exported by Sudan. This is a very convoluted process that no longer makes economic sense due to the low price of oil, but it is still the main source of state revenue.
There are virtually no other manufacturing sectors in the South Sudan, nor is there any real agriculture. Most people do grow some vegetables near their home, but only for their own consumption.
Israel Ziv, a former major general in the Israel Defense Forces, has led a project called Green Horizon for agricultural development in Sudan.
In many ways, what he has done mimics what the Zionist pioneers did 100 years ago: making the desert bloom, building on land and surviving against the odds.
The only difference is that conditions are much worse, not just because of the lack of development (even Gaza fares better in comparison), but also because of the debilitating heat: about 122 degrees Fahrenheit on average during the hot season, and about 104 degrees during the so-called winter. This makes any agricultural project that lacks the necessary technology or infrastructure almost impossible.
Ziv, or the "general" as he is known by the locals, first came here in 2008. "This was close to the end of the war with the north," he recalls. "They were worried that they would be conquered, and they wanted me to dispense advice." Ziv met with the leader of the south and former commander of the Sudan People's Liberation Army , Salva Kiir Mayardit, who later became president upon independence.
Ziv made sure the locals would be in touch with Israeli security officials, but at the time he did not have any business activity in the country. "I was their ambassador of sorts; this was nothing more than casting your bread upon the waters," he says.
After South Sudan's independence, Israel provided it with humanitarian and medical supplies. The two countries also forged official ties and there is an Israeli ambassador assigned to Juba (he arrives there every several months). Quite a few Israelis had businesses in the country but left when it plunged into civil war several years ago. Ziv also arrived back then, for 24 hours. "The president asked me to mediate between the tribes, but this was impossible," he says. Ziv returned to the country in 2015, after the civil war had ended and Juba was looking to draw investors that would help it rebuild.
"I told the president at the time that they don't have a lot of options and that they should use the oil revenue for developing the agriculture sector," Ziv recalls. "Kiir liked the idea very much – he visited Israel in the 1970s and has since admired us. He wanted to emulate us."
After a budgetary mechanism was found that was based on future oil revenues, Ziv's company, Global CST, won the bid for the agricultural project. This included getting 45 million dollars over five years to build four farms. Ziv wanted to create an agricultural cooperative that would oversee the entire project, from the cultivation stage to the delivery to the vendor. The next phase of the project, which has been greenlighted by the parliament but is in budgetary limbo, should increase the number of farms exponentially, and will include cowsheds and chicken coops.
"We started with nothing," Ziv says. "There was nothing to work with here, only an endless bush."
The first farm was set up an hour's drive from Juba. It is known as the Canadian Farm because it was based on an experimental project led by a Canadian charity.
Thousands of acres were transformed to make them suitable for crops, mostly onion, but also pepper and tomato, and various grains. In another farm near the capital, bananas are grown, but it took a while until this was possible because of the stubborn Sudanese soil.
At first, all the administrators and instructors in this project were Israelis, and everything had to be done from scratch: the equipment had to be imported, the terrain had to be properly prepared, the employees had to be trained. Many of the workers were ex-military officers who had retried, and the local government wanted them to be employed rather than roam around the streets with weapons.
The job market is highly competitive. In a country where a government bureaucrat earns about 30 dollars per month, Ziv pays 40 dollars to his regular workers and much more to his team leaders and experts. Green Horizon employs hundreds of locals and during the harvest season thousands. Considering that every worker provides livelihood for about 20 people in his clan, one can safely say that Ziv's business feeds a great number of people every day.
"The idea behind this project is to build the necessary infrastructure so that they can provide for the demand of local consumers, as well as create jobs," project manager Yoash Zohar says. Zohar, who is from Kibbutz Palmahim, has over the years managed many projects worldwide (from Ukraine to Angola and Tanzania), but South Sudan has posed the toughest challenge.
Not only because of the unbearable conditions, but also because of the different mentality. The workers lack a work ethic and have become used to depending on charities to provide for them. "Many workers find it simpler to just go to an office and sign paperwork for a handout, than to work for a living. A radical paradigm shift is needed here."
To deal with the locals, many of the senior administrators were replaced with South Africans. "What's happening here is a miracle. We have had to deal with floods and with pests that we were not familiar with, and without the necessary know-how, equipment and experience, and on top of that there were cultural differences," Joanne Dorrington, one of the managers who was brought in from Pretoria, says.
"Men, for example, had to grapple with the fact that for the first time they were being managed by women, it kind of feels like I am in biblical times," she says.
Everything you do here requires big efforts. We had to send an employee to Khartoum so that we understand what the seasonal history is for this region, because only in Khartoum are there records for that, dating back to the time when Sudan was united. "To understand what species is suitable for cultivation, we had to sow and pray – and in most cases this was a failure," she says.
As far as Ziv is concerned, the agricultural project was just a first phase. He had a long-term vision, and he hoped that developing the country will help him reap more contracts for more projects. He was hoping that his ties to the government would be instrumental when South Sudan becomes a functional state.
But then last December, the U.S. imposed sanctions on him. He was about to board a flight in South Africa when he received a call Israeli journalist Oded Granot. "It felt like the sky had fallen, or like I was in a hit and run accident with a truck," Ziv recalls.
The U.S. government says Ziv sold weapons worth 150 million dollars to both the government of South Sudan and to the rebels, that his agricultural project is just a front for arms dealing, that he hired mercenaries to attack the oil fields so that the government would use his company's security services, and that he bribed local officials.
"This is all one big lie, from start to finish," Ziv insists. "I have no idea how they came up with these accusations, maybe it is just a product of rumors, maybe a disgruntled employee. I don't know whose foot I stepped on, but those who decided on my case in the U.S. didn't check it out, they never asked questions or investigated the matter. Contacting me or the locals would have been extremely easy; after all I am not a terrorist who has gone into hiding in Iran. But no one came here, and nothing was done to check out the accusations."
Ziv has had his share of squabbles with the U.S. When he worked in Colombia and in other pats of Latin America, Americans accused him of undermining U.S. security interests. Ziv claimed that they were out to get him because of their financial interests, owing to the fact that he was trying to win lucrative contracts. He has since stayed away from that area and has made sure not to engage in any arms dealing. "This is my red line," he insists.
Perhaps the sanctions he now faces are part of an old vendetta. The locals are convinced that he is not the target of the sanctions, he is just the vehicle. "The U.S. wants to kill this project so that it can hurt us," says South Sudan's Defense Minister Kuol Manyang Juuk. "They want us to capitulate to their terms, and to hell with the lives that get lost in the process," he continues.
Ziv does not dismiss that explanation outright, but says this is not the crux of the matter. He believes he is fighting over his reputation and his livelihood. The U.S. sanctions mean that his bank accounts have been frozen, and if they remain in place, he will soon have to close shop in South Sudan. This will result in thousands of workers being let go and having no food on the table. It is highly unlikely that he would be allowed to do the same project anywhere else.
"I came here with good intentions, I feed the population, I bring knowledge and technological know-how, and I help the country manage itself – Zionism in Africa – and then one day someone tells me that I am a crook, and I have nothing I can do to counter it," he says.
"This is taken right out of some Hollywood thriller – or like Hiroshima days before the bombing. All is good until everything just explodes. You are buried alive, and without anyone bothering to explain a thing. You are just blacklisted, and that's it," Ziv laments.
Having no other choice, he appealed to the Israeli government for help, including the prime minister, the defense minister and the foreign ministry. "If what the Americans are accusing me is true, then I am also a criminal in Israel," he says. "Even if only one percent is true, I am a war criminal who has to sit behind bars. One has to be officially licensed by the Israeli authorities if they want to trade in arms, and had I done so without a license I would have been a criminal. I deserve answers from my country – if I am a criminal, prove it in court and render a judgement. If I am not – the authorities must come to my defense. They cannot let these accusations be leveled at me without any proof."
Israel Hayom has learned that three months ago, the Defense Ministry asked the U.S. government for information and clarifications on Ziv's case, but it is understood that no answers were given.
Israel is obviously worried about three aspects of this case: are the allegations true and why was Israel not given a heads up on the sanctions; why did the U.S. authorities not launch an official process to give Ziv a chance to clear his name before he was sanctioned; and how much damage will be inflicted on Israel as a result of such a high-profile Israeli being blacklisted. Ziv got a special hearing at the Defense Ministry's export regulation body. He arrived at the hearing with his senior employees and provided a whole host of testimonies that attest to the agricultural project being authentic and fully monitored by two separate entities in South Sudan, Ernst & Young accounting firm and the Israeli government. "Every dollar spent here is backed by a receipt, everything is written down and monitored, down to the last penny," he says.
In response to a query from Israel Hayom, the Defense Ministry issued the following statement: "As a general rule, we do not comment on exporters and meetings we hold with them." Officials in the ministry later said that "there are ongoing talks with various entities to ensure that this matter is fully resolved" and noted that the hearing was held at Ziv's request so that he can make his case.
Green Horizon is a real entity, and you can see this for yourself if you visit the farms. The vegetables and the fruit are grown and picked and sold in Juba's markets. This is undeniable.
Ziv also counters the claims on him being an arms dealer and so forth." There is not a single evidence to corroborate this, and no evidence will be found because this never happened," he says.
"Think about it, 150 million dollars' worth of weapons is a huge amount. South Sudan doesn't have a maritime port, and the airport is monitored by the United Nations. How did the alleged arms reach here? Where are the planes and trucks that were used? Where is the money that we supposedly received? You cannot send dollars between banks without someone watching over you, so by all means, bring on the evidence showing where the money is."
South Sudan has also denied the allegations. The president and senior ministers send letters claiming that this is nothing but a blood libel. Even the opposition in the country took an unusual stance and backed Ziv.
Israel Hayom contacted U.N. officials and NGOs in South Sudan and they could not corroborate the allegations against Ziv. Ziv says that "none of them ever saw a rifle or even something that looks like a rifle; you cannot hide anything in this country."
South Sudan's Defense Minister Kuol Manyang Juuk was interviewed by Israel Hayom for this piece, telling the paper that Ziv arrived in the country to help rebuild it rather than to trade in weapons.
"The goal was to let people make a decent living, resettle the refugees back in their villages, and to give them jobs. We wanted to use your experience in kibbutzim," he says.
How do you know Ziv is not using this as front for arms trafficking?
"Because I am the minister of defense and the commander of the military. There is no way that I would not know of anything like this. Some of the rebels here have M-16s, does that mean that the U.S. government sold weapons here?"
So why are the Americans against Ziv?
"They are taking action against him because he is rooting for us. They don't want anyone to be rooting for us, they want everything to fall apart so that they can install a new regime. They want chaos."
What will happen if Ziv's project collapses?
"The residents of South Sudan will continue to suffer. The sanctions that have been imposed on us make it impossible to take loans and build hospitals and schools or to pave roads. The situation will only deteriorate."
A day before we arrived at the Canadian Farm, a guard was abducted by the rebels. He was later returned naked and bruised. He was luckier than his coworkers who were shot to death about a month ago in their sleep. In a country plagued by strife and tribal divisions, where people have a daily struggle just to stay alive, even a few tomatoes are grounds for murder.
"Those who are not farmers won't understand what being a farmer is like here and won't be able to see how ridiculous the American claims are," Zohar says. "Each day we prove that that it is possible to have agriculture here despite all the problems, that the country and its people can get a fair shot to have a slightly better future."
But maybe there are things that you are not aware of or cannot see?
"Israel Ziv is here only two weeks every month. I accompany him, I see what he does and how busy he is in this project. The claims are just fabricated, and if you really want to trade in arms, you would use a different front than an agricultural farm."
Zohar is worried that Ziv's project might go under. In his three years here, he has fallen in love with the place. The locals have also become close to the handful of Israelis here, especially to the logistical manager of the project CFO Yizhak Nevo, a big man with a bigger heart who has become a local celebrity.
He has developed close ties with the Lebanese chef of a local hotel. Every evening he prepares for the Israelis a dinner that includes eggs, cheese, and chopped salad. As far as he is concerned, the Israelis should stay there forever.
The Israelis will find something else to do if they are kicked out. But not the locals, who will see the demise of the project as a tragedy. But even so, it is doubtful that the employment concerns will ultimately decide the fate of the project.
To stay here, Ziv will have to clear his name, otherwise he will find it hard realizing his big dreams for his post military career, which are worlds apart from the stigma of an arms dealer that some want to ascribe to him.
Over the years he has softened. His tough-guy, villain-like reputation from his army years, is long gone, replaced by humor and smiles.
When you talk with him on agriculture, his eyes widen but when you talk to him about sanctions, he suddenly becomes serious: "I am waging the battle of my life. Over my name, my future and over all of what have done and what I will do in the future. I have nothing to lose – it may take months or years, but in the end, I will win this battle."
