The stench hits before the sight does. In neighbourhoods like Gudele and Kator, mounds of rubbish sit for weeks by the roadside, swarming with flies and stray dogs. Plastic bags flutter in the wind. Open drains overflow with sewage and discarded waste. From rotting food to used syringes, the city is slowly being buried.
“This city is choking,” says Mary Kiden, a mother of three who lives near Jebel Market. “Every day, I walk past piles of garbage that no one ever collects. Our children play near them. We get sick. But no one comes to clean. No one cares.”
Despite years of foreign support and repeated government promises, waste collection in Juba has broken down. A mix of underfunding, poor planning, and political interference has left many streets without basic sanitation.
A 2020 study on municipal solid waste management in Juba found that around 95% of households lacked access to regular waste collection services, with trash collection limited, inconsistent, and often fee-based. The study highlighted widespread open dumping and burning, and pointed to deeper issues such as poor infrastructure, low public awareness, and weak policy enforcement (ResearchGate).
Officially, the Juba City Council is in charge of managing the waste. In reality, insiders say the system barely functions.
“We’re severely underfunded,” says Samson Manzara Daniel, a mid-level officer at the council. “Budgets are often delayed or diverted. Sometimes contracts for waste collection are handed to people with no trucks or staff, just because they’re connected.”
The result is that waste collection vehicles sit idle. In many neighbourhoods, garbage has not been collected for months.
Peter Majak, a resident of Juba, says his community now hires young people to dig makeshift pits and bury the waste. “It’s the only way we can live with some dignity,” he says. “But how long can we keep doing this?”
The consequences stretch beyond the city’s roads. Waste is now finding its way into water sources, including the Nile.
Bol Abraham Garang, an environmental activist, warns that the impact could be long-lasting. “We’ve seen medical waste dumped in the open, near streams and boreholes. This exposes people to hepatitis, cholera, and other serious diseases,” he says.
He adds that plastic waste blocks natural drainage systems, worsening floods during the rainy season. “When the rains come, the garbage doesn’t go away — it just spreads.”
Juba’s waste problem is not unique. Other towns across South Sudan face similar challenges. In Bor, a 2017 study identified open dumping as the most common disposal method. Residents cited long distances to dump sites and a lack of environmental policies as major challenges (Michigan State University).
Medical waste management has long been a concern. A 2012 assessment by South Sudan’s Ministry of Health, supported by the World Bank, highlighted serious gaps in the handling of hazardous waste, including the open burning of sharps and infectious materials (World Bank). At the time, disposal practices posed clear risks to public health and the environment. While national guidelines were developed in response, it remains unclear how widely they have been implemented in the years since.
More recently, a study at Al-Sabbah Children’s Hospital in Juba revealed inadequate biomedical waste management practices, with issues in waste segregation and disposal methods (SciTech Central).
Juba’s waste problem persists even as international donors continue to support urban development across South Sudan. Agencies like USAID, the World Bank, and the UN have invested millions of dollars, but residents and local observers say much of that support has little lasting effect.
“Some NGOs come in with good ideas — community bins, clean-up days,” says a local NGO worker, speaking on condition of anonymity. “But there’s often no coordination with the government, and follow-up is rare. Sometimes, money just disappears.”
Calls for greater oversight and accountability have largely gone unanswered.
Bol Garang believes the problem lies in what the government chooses to focus on. “Sanitation doesn’t win votes,” he says. “It’s not a ribbon-cutting event. So it’s ignored.”
In the absence of functioning public services, residents are left to cope on their own. Informal dumpsites now sit next to homes, schools, and markets. Broken glass and medical waste lie where children play.
Public health experts warn that the situation is reaching a dangerous point. Cases of cholera are increasing. Burning plastic causes respiratory problems. But signs of change remain limited. Some local groups have started small-scale clean-up efforts. A few private businesses have proposed recycling initiatives, though most face delays, red tape, and a lack of support.
“What we need is a working budget, proper oversight, and clear responsibility,” says Samson Manzara Daniel. “Let professionals handle it. Keep politics out.”
Mary Kiden agrees. “We don’t ask for much,” she says, watching smoke rise from a burning pile of rubbish. “Just a clean city. A healthy place for our children. Is that too much?”
