The army is marching, but it is not on its way northwards. Having returned to Juba from the war in the Nuba mountains, it is easy to think that the Nuba were right: the South has forgotten them.
Here in the southern capital, the trumpets are warming up, the choir rehearse the (rather terrible) new national anthem, as do soldiers their march, and people are out in the street celebrating. Deservedly so. They have suffered for decades, and many thought this moment would never arrive.
Tomorrow, heads of state will sit on the (still being constructed) stands outside the John Garang Memorial, the band will play and South Sudan will secede from the north.
And we, the international press, our numbers swelling by the day, will be running around taking pictures, absorbing the atmosphere, collecting quotes and recording speeches. If the day doesn’t end in sunstroke, I’ll be surprised.