“I have been searching for home for most of my life without realizing it. My journey began on 25th December 2013 before sunrise, when war broke out in my hometown of Malakal, South Sudan. I was just ten years old. Christmas was only hours away. The day before, I spent the afternoon playing inside our house, not knowing it would be the last time I would experience home as I knew it. Two days later, my family fled to a UNMISS protection site, where we stayed until we managed to leave Malakal in April 2014. Together with my parents and siblings, we moved to Khartoum, Sudan, hoping to rebuild our lives.
Khartoum became the next place we called home. I spent almost ten years there, continued my studies, grew up, made friends, and built new memories; life was very good. Then, in April 2023, war broke out again. Once more, my family was forced to leave everything behind. It was the second time I had experienced displacement, and it changed how I think about memory, belonging, and starting over almost from scratch.
Together with my parents and my three siblings, we crossed into South Sudan through Renk, where we stayed for nearly two months at our auntie’s house. Life was hard, but I stayed grateful because we had a better place to stay than many refugees and fellow returnees. My younger brother got impatient and escaped back to Khartoum without our knowledge, despite the war there. Our mother almost had a heart attack.
The town was overwhelmed by people arriving every single day, each carrying a different story of loss and survival. I couldn’t document everything I witnessed. Looking for work, I moved to Paloch to stay with my cousin before finally returning to Malakal. I walked through streets I still knew by heart until I reached the house where I was born. It had been completely destroyed, but the memories were still there. Later, in August, I reunited with my family, and in September 2023 we flew to Juba, where I stayed until January 2026, before continuing my journey to Kenya through Uganda.
I don’t know where I will call home tomorrow. What I know is that I want to return to these places, not only to photograph the homes I have carried with me, but also to continue documenting the lives of people whose stories deserve to be seen. I want to walk those streets again, breathe the familiar air, and reconnect with the places that continue to shape who I am today.
Homes We Carry is my way of holding onto those places while they continue to change. Through photography, I explore how displacement transforms our relationship with home and how memory lets us carry parts of it wherever we go.”
Words & Photography by Reath Bol
You can find more of Reath Bol’s work here.
