The Lioness Journey Across Borders
Kiden is an author, public speaker, and activist originally from Sudan. She has published two books: The Heart of a Lioness: Memoir of a Brave African Woman (2026) and Resilience: The Journey of Self-Discovery (2021).
I was born and lived in Sudan before South Sudan became an independent country. In fact, I spent my first 20 years in Juba, Sudan. I loved the classroom. I would debate as much as the topics allowed. I also liked chemistry. Life was great, with trees planted and growing all around us.
And then the civil war broke out so violently that it affected me personally. Two hours after the birth of my child, bombs were dropped in Juba. I was terrified, but my mother was so calm. I saw dogs, chickens, goats, and people running frantically. My mom, the baby, and I lay down on the grass under the trees for hours.
When things settled a bit, my husband said, “We cannot live here. We need to leave this country.”
So, I left two months later with a two-month-old baby. I was 20 years old. My daughter was so beautiful and so innocent that my siblings and I were in awe. I felt grounded watching her breathe so calmly during a time of uncertainty and chaos.
Displacement is more than moving from one location to another. I left behind my family, my support system, the fresh, delicious foods that I appreciated, and the land itself. I missed so much of it.
In Uganda, my homesickness was deep and constant. I did not know the language, so I had to learn even simple things, like how to ask the price of a tomato. For five years, I also knew very little about how my family was doing. With no reliable source of information, I heard occasional updates only through third parties.
During that time, I relied on faith and believed that one day we would meet again. My most desperate moments pushed me to search within myself for answers. I had the courage to leave and begin again.
At that time, my ex-husband, Mr. Charm, and I had no trust between us. He had money that he used to start a beauty products business. He only told me about it when he wanted help. My son was three months old when I started working for him.
This is one of my best stories of all. In Kampala, I wore slippers at home, on the way to work, and at work. One rainy season, my slippers could not handle the mud, so they broke on the road in the middle of the city. I remember standing at the street corner, tying them together with a string.
At that moment, tears ran down my face. The level of humiliation was overwhelming.
I said no to these muddy slippers. I said no to silence.
So, I walked to the booth, took some money, and bought a pair of shoes. At that moment, I felt dignified. My voice was there, and now I was using it.
Never again would I allow myself to be used or humiliated despite my commitment and loyalty. That was my experience in Uganda.
I relished the weather in general. The mud was not a problem, I just needed the proper footwear. In central Uganda, temperatures generally range from 25 to 30 degrees Celsius.
I might have lost a lot, including family support and the comfort of not being alone. I also had the experience of broken slippers that brought me to tears. However, I gained courage and curiosity.
Being a displaced immigrant requires you to travel a journey of soul-searching, asking questions, and knocking on doors. I became a self-advocate because what the government does not give you, you must be willing to speak up about. You have to be persistent and stay on it day in and day out.
I also developed language skills to the point where I can communicate with people from different parts of the world. I learned to be self-motivated and passionate about life.
Apart from the business, I want to talk about malnourished children. As I have mentioned, civil war comes with starvation. Unfortunately, children and women become victims of senseless decisions.
After high school, I worked in a feeding centre for malnourished children. I would weigh them and register them in the program. Nothing gives me joy like seeing these fragile children regain their strength and their smiles. Their mothers are so delighted to see the improvement.
I cared for malnourished babies. I gave birth while bombs were dropping, and I was displaced.
I’ve been there.
And I want to let you know that there is a way out. When your baby is unwell, you seek medical care. When your slippers break, you tie them up. Every day, something happens, and we must address it or find a way out.
Most importantly, speak up about the things that bother you internally. Being quiet is not an option. Ignoring the problem does not heal it.
I’ve been where you are.
Those slippers were worn out before the rainy season came, before the road became muddy.
Which road are you walking on? What are you wearing, and how does it feel?
Now, I spent seven years in East Africa, between Uganda and the refugee camp in Kenya. I covered my work in Sudan, had my first child, and had the birth of my second child in Kampala during the beauty product business. It came to a halt, and then Mr. Charm ran away to the refugee camp in Kenya. He left me with two little kids, and I became frugal and resourceful.
Being a foreigner means that you don’t have documents, it means no job opportunities. Two years later, I traveled to the camp. This time, he was registered. I traveled in a Land Cruiser with my little children, the vehicle was made for rocky roads.
Suddenly, I felt the blistering heat. I saw thorny trees and a dusty storm. It was a desert. I wondered what life would be like in such emptiness. Still, I felt encouraged because the Sudanese community had its own fenced area, where we shared the same language, and I did not have to learn another one.
South Sudan became an independent country in 2011. I was excited to work as a primary school teacher, where I encouraged girls to attend school and stay there despite the pressure of arranged marriages. Many girls worked all day and had little time for homework.
Speaking to the elders was a challenge because they thought that their tradition was the best, so no one should tell them something different. The fact that the elders were resistant didn’t deter me from encouraging and giving guidance to the girls.
Attending school regularly is important, and being on time is required. In the refugee camp, despite the heat and dusty storms, the Sudanese community was united. They would work together to make sure that the United Nations would hear our case as a country and as individuals.
What inspired me to teach was the desire to help a girl I saw in myself. Being the firstborn of nine, six girls and two boys, meant growing up faster and doing household duties at an early age. Waking up early and going to bed late, I would be too tired for homework.
I’ve been where you are! Where is your younger self? And how do you honor her in your later years?
In the refugee camp, I learned the power of community. Without newspapers, phones, or income, we had to stay humble and depend on one another. That experience strengthened my persistence, helped me build networks, and deepened my commitment to advocacy.
Although I was a teacher, I also served as a community chairperson, speaking up for vulnerable people, including single mothers and unmarried women, so they could receive firewood subsidies from the United Nations.
To receive support, we had to present a strong case, and the need was urgent. Women were being attacked when they went to collect firewood, so I argued that the risk was too great and that they needed financial support for safer access to fuel.
Civil wars need to be removed from our vocabulary, removed from society altogether. So far, nothing good has come out of them. The only thing I know is that wars destroy lives and livelihoods. Some of them go on for generations, and people don’t understand the impact of their decisions.
I’ve been there, leaving for safety, running to find stability, and beginning again! I did that while teaching children and encouraging girls to keep going. I advocated for women in the community.
What concerned me was the generational, ongoing civil unrest in society. Nonetheless, we have voices. Let’s continue to do our best.
When have you used your voice? And what did you experience?
One afternoon, I went to the United Nations and stood in line for an hour in 50-degree heat. I was eight months pregnant with my third child, and as time passed, I became exhausted.
When I finally reached the field officer, Manyara, he saw that I was breathing heavily.
“You are not supposed to be here, it is too hot for you,” he said.
“It is hot everywhere,” I replied.
He shook his head and approved my application for Canada. After giving birth, my family and I came to Canada.
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Read more from Kiden Jonathan
Kiden Jonathan, Instructor, Author & Public Speaker
Kiden has had an adventurous journey of migration, from fleeing civil war in Sudan to spending 7 years in East Africa before she landed in Canada. Kiden continued to find opportunities to lead and work with babies, girls, and women during displacement and uncertainty. Kiden had a High school Diploma in Sudan, a College Diploma in Canada, and creative writing with the Shoe Project for immigrant women. Kiden wants to teach self-development courses for immigrant women and moms ages 30-50.
