All of his neighbors call him “Grandpa,” but very few know him well enough to call him friend.

He is the frail old man who sits in the grass on the side of the road and flashes a near-toothless grin at everyone who passes by. Once in a while, someone will stop to ask if he is okay or share a piece of fruit.

Nearly everyone describes him as a source of joy in their day as they move along the rutted, dirt road onto the congested streets of Juba, South Sudan.

He is Zaid—father of four, grandfather of 10, and great-grandfather of “so many they are like the leaves on the trees.” The skin on his twisted hands is dry and cracked. His bony arms are marked with scars. The wrinkles in his face hold the history of his nation.

Servitude, persecution, and war have haunted his life from his earliest days. At the time of his birth in 1934 until 1956, Sudan was a colony jointly administered by Britain and Egypt.

“I think maybe at that time we didn’t have a word for freedom,” Zaid said. “I don’t remember that I ever said it.”

Zaid was sent to work as a servant for the British colonial governor when he was 6. He spent his days washing linens so large and heavy he could barely lift them with his tiny frame.

“It was very hard to keep the clean sheets from dragging on the ground,” he said. “I was in fear that they would get dirty, and I would be disciplined.”

The work and chronic stress took a toll on his health. He struggled to reach the end of each day as his body wasted into almost nothing.

A few years later, he was promoted to gardener.

“This job was better for me,” he said. “It made me happy to see the plants grow. Mine grew larger than all the others. Then I became stronger.”

Still, he lived in constant fear as his fellow servants filled his head with stories of brutal beatings for minor infractions. “They were more cruel than our British masters,” he said. “My crying was just laughter for them. We should have been united and supported each other. Instead, we were in joy when our brothers were weak.”

His success earned him the notice of the governor, and he was moved into a position inside the house.

“This was my happiest time,” he said. “This man was like my other father. I felt safe.”

The governor encouraged young Zaid to use his sharp mind and great physical strength to serve Sudan as a member of the army. He spent his teenage years in military training camps. The grueling schedule, meager rations, and intense mental testing hardened him.

“They taught me to survive,” he said. “I thank God for putting me there. I would not have survived if I had not learned these things.”

In 1954, Sudan began transitioning from colony to independent nation. Within one year, the country was embroiled in civil war.

“We were thinking that it would be good for the British to leave,” Zaid said. “For us southerners, however, it was a very bad time. We realized it would not be freedom for us. The government in the north still wanted us to be slaves. They did not want us to speak our own language or worship God as Christians.”

He joined other southern military officers in fighting against the northern government. This first civil war lasted 17 years, but Zaid’s time on the battlefield was short. Less than a month after the conflict began, he was captured and sent to Port Sudan.

He scrunches his nose and shakes his head as he describes the overwhelming, putrid smell of the prison where he spent the next seven years of his life.

“The torture was very bad,” he said, somehow maintaining the smile on his face.

Upon his release, he returned to his village and began working to earn enough money to start a family. His first child was born in 1972—the same year the first civil war ended.

Peace barely lasted a decade as the northern government began imposing oppressive new laws on the south. The new policy, called “Islamicization,” brought a host of new hardships and prompted a revolt by southerners who demanded nothing more than dignity and respect.

By then, Zaid had moved his family to Juba. There, he built a modest, thatch-roofed house less than a mile away from the Nile River. He leans forward and speaks in hushed tones as he recounts the early days of the second civil war.

“My heart was ripped into many pieces when I heard we were once again in war,” he said. “We did not want to fight. We had no choice.”

Life in Juba became progressively worse. Food was scarce. Movement was restricted. Escape to a better life was nearly impossible.

In 1992, intense fighting between the government and rebel forces made Juba the scene of some of the worst atrocities of the war. Bombs, grenades, artillery fire, executions of innocents in the middle of the night. The city burned, and its residents were forced to push through their terror to find a way to survive.

Zaid used his military skills to safeguard his family. He dug a trench and covered it with leaves. This became their new home. At night, he would move down the Nile to find scraps of food. If he heard a soldier drawing near, he would walk into the river and stay under the water as long as he could. Once, he was bumped by a mass of dead bodies floating past him.

“Death was all around this city,” he said. “And every torture—you can’t believe what was done. We only prayed that the pain and dying of that day would end. We did not even think it was possible to pray for peace.”

The Comprehensive Peace Agreement of 2005 ended the 22-year struggle of the second civil war. This document promised that the southern Sudanese would have the opportunity to decide their own status.

In January 2011, Zaid was part of the 99 percent who voted to become an independent nation.

Recently, Samaritan’s Purse staff nurse Karen Daniels stumbled upon the old man on the side of the road outside our office in Juba. His sweet nature captured her heart. Since then, we have provided him with medicine to ease the pain of his rotted teeth and crumpled body.

“I know you are the children of Jesus,” he said, “ because you show such kindness to a man with no money and no big place in society. You make the unimportant people feel important.”

Having lived more than three-quarters of a century in a land plagued with war and oppression, Zaid is now thanking the Lord that the moment of independence has arrived.

“We can finally relax and be happy,” he said. “Please pray that our people will be united in building a great country to give us dignity and honor God.”

Samaritan's Purse , South Sudan , South Sudan , From Persecution to Praise