Shadowed by Adversity
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A good Friday procession led in Sudan's Nuba Moutains by Bishop Marcam Max Gassis. Sudan has been the setting of a civil war that has claimed over two million lives. Southern Sudanese are persecuted for their desires to continue to practice their Christian beliefs. |
by Fabio B. Gaertner
Years ago, in the war-torn country of Sudan, thousands of children fled their homes searching for safety. As they found refuge in Ethiopia, Red Cross and UNHCR (United Nations High Commission for Refugees) workers graciously greeted them, mostly boys, calling them "Lost Boys of Sudan," after Peter Pan's lost boys who stuck together in order to survive in a "grown-up world."1 In 2000, the U.S. agreed to harbor over 3,000 of the children.2 Their story, though shadowed with trials, sacrifice, and adversity, is brightened by their undaunted rays of hope.
Recently, I've had the opportunity to meet many of the Lost Boys. I consider it a privilege to know them, and I have learned a great deal from their attitudes of perseverance, humility, and gratitude. A few months ago, I met Atem Aleu, now 24, a student majoring in art at Brigham Young University. He told me of his experience by explaining Sudan's war history, and how it came to affect his life.
"Greetings to all in Jesus' name," says Atem with a smile. "For those of you who do not know me, my name is Atem Thuc Aleu. I am one of the `Lost Boys of Sudan' who were granted asylum by the United States in 2001."3 The more I heard from Atem, the more his story reminded me of Moses and his people. Like the indentured Jews, the Lost Boys were living in the middle of a civil war and were treated as slaves. They escaped, lived in refugee camps, and are now finding better lives in America or back in Sudan. 4
Before its independence in 1956, Northern Sudan was ruled by Egypt, while England ruled the south. The country's autonomy brought the union of the culturally dissimilar regions. The Republic of Sudan was formed though regional differences and separations remained. Even today, the north consists mostly of Muslim Arabs, while the south is mainly African Christians. The new nation was left under northern rule in Khartoum. When the government began to impose its ideas and policies on the south, a civil war began and continues today.5
Atem shared his thoughts on the war and the two million lives it has claimed since 1983.6 "The war is about religion. The north wants everybody to be a Muslim," says Atem. "Second is oil. South has oil, and northern, they want to take it. They don't want to divide it. They want it all." Another factor that contributes to the war is water. Southern Sudan has large, fresh water reserves. 7 "In the north they don't want the south to make a dam. They think if south people educate and make a dam, they will prevent water to get to north. North prevents south people to get education and don't allow southerners to be in high position," said Atem.
After facing resistance from the Sudan People's Liberation Army, a southern revolutionary movement against the government, northern armies razed southern villages in the 1980s.8 In Sudan, while destroying entire communities, northern armies decided to kill the young African Christian boys, so no future army could be raised against them.9 Atem still remembers the destruction in 1987, "1 was separated from my parents when I was seven years old and have lived most of my life in refugee camps in Ethiopia and Kenya." Three years prior to the raids, his father was killed, his mother and brother forced into a river to drown. 10
In order to survive, thousands of the children ran to the desert, walking for over a month toward Ethiopia. The boys set up a system where the older boys would take care of the youngest, even though most of the boys were only about eleven years old at the time. With every step, the harsh walk brought death closer. Close to ten thousand survived from varying estimates of twenty to forty thousand who began the journey. Not only was there no water, but seldom was food available. The little food they had consisted mostly of green corn. In that despicable desert, dry leaves would replace meals, and mud would replace drinking water. They carried nothing. Without shoes or skins serving as cover, they walked with burned feet while cheating even sleep in order to walk at night. The fear of wild animals was always present. Nightmares turned into reality as many were eaten by hyenas, lions, and crocodiles. The strongest survived the natural selection created by the war, only then to witness the deaths of dear friends. 11
After walking for over a month, Atem's group reached Ethiopia. When war broke out in Ethiopia, the boys were forced to walk back to Sudan.12 This time, the United Nations stepped in, and brought the group to Kenya refugee camps in 1992. Even though the conditions were better, the boys still faced danger from hostile natives. They were mistreated, and some even killed. 13
Atem recalls hearing rumors in the camp about the possibility of coming to America. Finally, in 2000, many were given the chance to relocate to the U.S. The young men were given three interviews that assessed their medical health and family relationships, qualifying them for immigration. From the camp, Atem remembers going to Nairobi and arriving in Utah. The hard-fought struggle for liberty was finally over. 14
Though far from the civil battleground, the new refugees were not left without challenges. Many tasks we view in America as ordinary, presented the boys with different hardships to be overcome. Experiences like learning English, shopping, and attending school were all different. Atem says it was hard to ride the bus because he didn't know the bus schedule. He had to learn cooking skills, since in Sudan the men don't cook. Atem also remembers adjusting to the weather. "It was very cold," he says.
Today the Lost Boys live in apartments scattered across the country, often with fellow Lost Boys, and enjoy modern comforts which before were unavailable. As we walked to his house, I asked Atem if he enjoyed hiking. He responded by saying, "No. I walked for eighteen years. I have a car now."
Some time ago, as I was. asking Atem a few questions about his experiences with the other boys, he told me about their social gatherings. Knowing I wanted to meet other Lost Boys living in Utah, Atem invited me to their birthday party. The event was quite different from usual birthday festivities. Associated by being Sudanese refugees in America, the Lost Boys also share birthdays with each other: all celebrating their birthdays on January first. When they first arrived in America, they didn't know their own birthdays so the government officials decided to assign the first of January as their birthday. 15
Held on January 3, 2004, the celebration I attended was an event to remember. Not only had the Utah Lost Boys gathered at the Salt Lake City's Four Corners Church, but also their co-workers and friends. After the initial worship session, conducted in Dinka, one of the many Sudanese dialects, speakers addressed the mixed audience in English on the progress the boys have made.
Government and private organization workers shared their memories of the Boys' arrival and the original fearful expression on their faces. Many of the Lost Boys told of their hopes and dreams, as well as their preparation for the bright future they envision. Some want to be artists, others prepare to be business professionals, and many look forward to working in different fields including religion and academics. Others hope to return and labor for the prosperity of Sudan.
Between speakers, we enjoyed various presentations of Sudanese culture and music. Dressed in red shirts and ties, the young men and young women performed traditional and religious pieces, dancing to the beat of the laar, a Sudanese drum. Later during the event, I had the opportunity to try the authentic taste of Sudanese cuisine, consisting mainly of chicken, Sudanese breads, and sauces. Following dinner, we were all invited to dance to the beat of African music in the main hall of the building.
The best part about attending the event was that I got to meet most of the Lost Boys who live in Utah. As I quietly sat in the back, one-by-one they came and greeted me, shaking my hand, and showing a cheerful countenance. Each of them introduced themselves with a caring smile, telling me where they lived and what they were doing in life. As they told me about themselves, they also introduced me to the special people who have made a difference in their lives, such as roommates and co-workers. Education was clearly a priority in their lives, as they mentioned it emphatically along with their plans to attain it. During the final part of the evening, as everyone danced to the beat of African music, some of the boys taught me to play the drums and got me out to dance with everyone. Everyone was extraordinarily accepting, treating each other as brothers and sisters as they taught one another about their different cultures and traditions.
At first I didn't understand how someone like Atem who suffered every adversity in life-from personal family losses, to exposure to carnage, pain, and war-could be so positive and friendly. I thought his optimistic attributes were an exception, and doubted the others whom I could meet would be so meek, kind, and humble: but, rather dark, bitter, and angry. From meeting them, I learned that they were all mild, docile, optimistic, and friendly. While they had more reasons than most to charge God as the author of their problems, they have utmost appreciation and gratitude for deity. It is a part of their songs, their stories, and their art. 16 They don't dwell in the darkness of the past, but focus instead on the happiness and blessings they have found in a new land.
And blessings they've found. From boys to men, The Lost they come in contact with. Most of them work across America as they try to balance life, work, and school. Other benefits of living in the U.S. are their newly acquired skills. Atem smiled as he expressed his happiness to "learn how to do my thing on the computer."17
Today, Atem receives much attention for his paintings. "While in Kenya I was taught to paint and have since grown to love art. I have used my paintings to tell my story and the stories of the thousands of other young boys just like me," he says. He further explains the purpose behind his paintings. "I was led to America by the hand of God and I feel it my responsibility to tell the world about what we went through in Sudan." 18 He carries this responsibility into many of his paintings. As he shows his paintings to the world, the bitter and obscure tones of his past are illuminated with glimpses of brilliant color. The present is made brighter for the Lost Boys as they hold to their rays of hope. Though their path was shadowed by adversity, their present journey leads them to a better life. And a journey toward a better Sudan.
The bombed-out streets of Yei, a small southwest-ern Sudanese village, faced the same fate as several other sprawling rural towns in southern Sudan. Many were devastated by the struggle between Sudan's military regime and the rebel Sudan People's Liberation Army over the course of Africa's longest running civil war. |
BYU student Atem Aleu, one of the "Lost Boys of Sudan," escaped Sudan's civil terror and immigrated to the United States. Today, he focuses much of his energy to painting, using it as a way to tell the stories about his country and thousands of other boys like him. |
Notes:
- Jon D. Holtzman, Nuer Journeys Nuer Lives, New Immigrants Series (Needham Heights: Allyn & Bacon, 2000), 9-18.
- Ibid, 9.
- Atem Thuc Aleu, interview by author, Provo, Utah, January 12, 2004.
- The Holy Bible (King James Version), Dent. 1.
- Jok Madut Jok, War and Slavery in Sudan (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2001), 7-12.
- Ibid, 41.
- Ibid, 15.
- Holtzman, Nuer Journeys Nuer Lives, 16-17.
- Ibid., 17-18.
- See note 3.
- Ibid.
- Holtzman, Nuer Journeys Nuer Lives, 21.
- Ibid., 20-21.
- See note 3.
- Ibid.
- Ibid.
- Ibis!
- Atem Thuc Aleu, letter to the author, December 14, 2003.