The outside of the Baobab House in Juba.
Founded in 2019, the Baobab House in Juba has become a haven for a new generation of South Sudanese creators using artistic expression as a tool for healing and reconciliation.
For artist Juma Morris, the small red-brick cultural centre helped him cultivate an understanding of his country’s artistic identity after a long period of exile. For visual creative Bonslow Silas, who grew up in a refugee camp, it reminds him of his family.
Both are referring to the Baobab House, a beloved cultural space in South Sudan’s capital, Juba, that has become a haven for a new generation of South Sudanese creators using artistic expression as a tool for healing and reconciliation.
“Baobab House is home to me, both as a visual artist and as an individual, here in South Sudan,” Silas, who is one of the country’s emerging voices in art, told The New Humanitarian. “It embodies the essence of home.”
Silas was born in 1995 in a refugee camp in Uganda. He returned to South Sudan in 2020, finding in the Baobab House a network that reminded him of growing up “surrounded by big brothers, sisters, cousins, aunties, uncles, parents, and grannies”.
Founded in 2019, the Baobab House originally served as a small studio and creative space for its founder, the visual artist and curator Abul Oyay Deng Ajak. She had recently returned to South Sudan following an agreement to end the country’s civil war.
It was hard for artists and South Sudanese generally at the time: Millions had been displaced by a five-year war that had claimed an estimated 400,000 lives, and deeply polarised communities – all in a country that had only been independent since 2011.
Yet in a short space of time, Ajak’s studio grew into one of Juba’s main hubs for artists, musicians, filmmakers, singers, writers, and poets, offering a safe space for them to process thoughts and emotions at a difficult juncture in South Sudan’s history.
Over the past few years, Ajak told The New Humanitarian the Baobab House has grown to host over 30 permanent artists and has run a residency programme that has brought East African artists over to collaborate with local creatives.
She has put on exhibitions confronting “uncomfortable truths” that encourage reflection on South Sudan’s history, and run projects where painters, sculptors, and artists have worked with local communities to create a space for post-war healing.
A photograph of an artwork by Bonslow Silas who said he is working to preserve the cultural identity of South Sudan.
A photograph of an artwork by Bonslow Silas, who said he is working to preserve the cultural identity of South Sudan.
Still, despite the opportunities offered by the Baobab House, artists said they still face major financial and political challenges that threaten their work. The high cost of art supplies, most of which are imported, makes creativity an expensive pursuit.
Security concerns are also ever-present, with some artists fearing they might be harassed by security agencies for addressing sensitive topics through their work. Some said they don’t share important art pieces publicly because they fear reprisals.
“These barriers are a nightmare for any artist considering work that touches on sensitive or taboo topics,” Silas said. “What we have is too little to be called freedom of self-expression.”
From hotel room to culture hub
Before South Sudan’s independence from Sudan, art and self-expression were stifled under the oppressive rule of various northern governments. They sought to suppress the cultural heritage and creative freedoms of southerners.
Artists who tried to preserve and promote their cultural heritage often faced censorship, intimidation, and persecution. It was an environment that forced many artists into exile or compelled them to practice their crafts in private.
“The South Sudanese cultural and artistic movement took the form of a resistance against the regime at the time, evolving into an underground art scene,” said Wahbi Mustafa, a cultural activist. “In exile, through painting, literature, and music, we told stories of displacement, resilience, and hope.”
Ajak, the Baobab House founder, said her father fought during the southern independence struggle, before escaping to Ethiopia, where she attended school. She later lived in London and Nairobi before moving to Juba.
For security reasons, Ajak said she was initially confined to a hotel when she first arrived in Juba. She was part of a government task force that was deactivating military units.
During this time, Ajak worked on her art but longed for something more. “In the hotel, or in any confined space for that matter, you cannot create art; it is a small room,” she said. “I had to look for a more suitable space.”
After finding the Baobab House, Ajak developed programmes aimed at post-war healing, facilitating trauma counselling sessions through art. She also arranged poetry nights, music concerts, and art exhibitions.
Ajak said she believes in the power of human creativity to solve problems. “We heal when we let things flow spontaneously,” she said. She also emphasised that staying connected to communities is central to the mission of the space.
“At Baobab House, we are committed to embracing any creative idea and elevating it so that it resonates with our community,” she said. “We are dedicated to fostering safe spaces where both artists and communities can thrive together.”
Mustafa, the cultural activist, said places like the Baobab House provide a vital platform to discuss important social and political issues, while also encouraging creative solutions to the country’s many challenges.
“Investing in such cultural institutions and artists is not just about fostering a vibrant artistic landscape, it is a crucial step toward national healing and growth,” Mustafa told The New Humanitarian.
However, keeping up with South Sudan’s rapidly growing community of artists and art consumers requires more resources and venues, added Ajak. “We simply don’t have enough space to accommodate a larger audience,” she said.
A photograph of an artwork by artist Juma Morris, capturing his experience of displacement from Sudan to South Sudan.
A photograph of an artwork by artist Juma Morris, capturing his experience of displacement from Sudan to South Sudan.
A new chapter
Artist Juma Morris, who has exhibited at the Baobab House, said his experiences there gave him a deeper understanding of South Sudan’s art scene. He called it the starting point of his journey towards a more profound engagement with his craft.
Displaced as a child during the independence struggle, Morris moved to Khartoum, the capital of Sudan. However, he was uprooted again when the conflict between the Sudanese army and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces began in mid-2023.
“The exposure and interaction with South Sudanese artists, from dancers to singers, expanded my understanding of our country’s cultural landscape and gave me insight into what art consumers truly appreciate,” Morris said.
He said his current work reflects his experience of displacement, capturing memories shaped by personal upheaval. Juma’s exhibition, Exodus, in August 2024 at the Baobab House, captured his recent escape from Khartoum to Juba.
“The Long Journey”, a standout piece, portrays the uncertainty and fear of moving toward an unknown future. It highlights the shared experiences of displacement across Sudan and South Sudan, two nations bound by intertwined histories of conflict.
"Morris was telling his story, but for many attendees, that was their story," said Ajak.
Returning to South Sudan after over two decades, Morris said he is now embarking on a mission to explore and celebrate the cultural and visual depth of his homeland, something the Baobab House is helping him do.
“This is a new chapter of my life," Morris said. “More exhibitions will come, hopefully, to discover and show more about the rich visual content we have in South Sudan.”
Preserving cultural heritage
Silas, the artist who was born in the Ugandan refugee camp, has also exhibited his work at the Baobab House.
Specialising in portrait and figurative art, Silas often draws inspiration from the cattle-keeping communities of South Sudan, particularly the Mundari group.
Central to his creative process is his use of colour, particularly his affinity for earth tones. His art often features portraits of women, both modern and traditional, which he presents as emblems of strength, ambition, boldness, and natural beauty.
“Through my work, I want to preserve the cultural identity of South Sudan and remind the world of the resilience and hope that can emerge from even the most challenging circumstances,” Silas said.
His exhibited piece at the Baobab House, “Day and Night. Work, Sleep, and Dream”, epitomises his style, weaving a narrative of mixed emotions – hope and desperation – amid the backdrop of a country in transition.
The artwork is designed to reflect resilience in the face of adversity, capturing the tension between survival and aspiration in a nation still impacted by conflict and displacement.
Silas told The New Humanitarian that his personal story, life, and work all intersect with South Sudan’s challenges. He said he had a rough childhood in Uganda, with limited access to quality education and few job opportunities.
Silas said he found solace in creative pursuits during this period, even if art and self-expression were considered luxuries. Today, he still faces economic challenges that hinder his artistic work.
“Sometimes, because of the bad economic situation, I feel like my work is constrained. I don’t have access to quality materials, which are very expensive, and at the same time, I need to eat, drink, and pay the bills,” Silas said.
Being a woman in South Sudan
A photograph of an artwork by visual artist and curator Abul Oyay Deng Ajak, who is the founder of the Baobab House.
A photograph of an artwork by visual artist and curator Abul Oyay Deng Ajak, who is the founder of the Baobab House.
Ajak said the Baobab House is also used as a space to address complex social issues, such as those tackled in her exhibition last year called the “The Dead Leaf Butterfly”, which explored the problems of gender inequality and early marriage.
The exhibition focused on the struggles faced by women in communities where patriarchal norms often reduce them to sources of material wealth rather than individuals with equal rights.
Ajak explained how economic pressures can compel families to marry off young daughters. “Women are left with no right to choose, accept, or reject these unions,” Ajak said.
Through the exhibition, Ajak offered a commentary on the intersection of tradition and economic hardship, urging reflection on the challenges faced by women in the country. She used cow horns as a motif, symbolising the transactional nature of marriages.
She explained the goal of the exhibition in similar terms to the broader mission of the Baobab House: to foster healing and reconciliation, to create space for collective growth, and to promote unity.
This article is published in collaboration withEgab. Edited by Philip Kleinfeld and Muhammed Kotb.