The dusty roads of Tonj East County have long provided a lifeline, connecting communities, fostering trade, and enabling access to vital services.

But today, these roads are riddled with fear, and the once vibrant rhythm of life has been replaced by the silence of isolation and the echoes of conflict.

At the heart of this turmoil are the people whose lives have been severely impacted by ongoing violence between the Luac-jang and Akook communities.

“We are dying in silence,” says Maria Deng, a mother of four from Romich, whose voice trembles as she recounts the death of her sister a few weeks ago.

“She was pregnant, but the clinic had no medicine, and we couldn’t get her to a hospital because the road was blocked. Six women have died like this in our town. We feel abandoned.”

Maria’s story is a testament to the suffering of many women in Romich, where healthcare has become an impossibility due to roadblocks imposed during the conflict.

For young people, the persistent conflict is not only threatening their lives but also their future.

“We can’t go to school, we can’t even play outside,” says William Kuol, a 17-year-old from the Luac-jang community. “Every day, we live in fear. My cousin was killed on his way to the market last month. He was just trying to buy food for his family.”

The fear of ambushes has kept many young people confined to their homes, robbing them of their childhood, education and their hope.

The road between Romich and Ngapagok, a crucial link for the Luac-jang community, has become a symbol of the deep divisions that have torn this region apart.

“It’s an invisible barrier,” explains Chief Mathiang Bol, a traditional leader from the Thiik community. “There’s no physical blockade, but the fear of being attacked is enough to keep our people trapped. We can’t trade, we can’t get supplies, and our people are suffering because of it.”