The Lost Boys of Sudan

" For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save what was lost." [ Luke 19:1-10].

The history of Christianity is a history of movement. This history extends back in time, to the days of  the Old Testament, when Moses led the Israelites out of their slavery in Egypt.  Moses and the Israelites wandered for forty years in the wilderness and the desert.

We think today that these stories of the Old Testament are "metaphorical" or archaic. We cannot imagine bondage and years of wandering, or persecution and personal struggle-- all in the name of our Faith, and our cultural and religious freedoms.

But this ancient history, of bondage, trauma and exodus, is very much happening today.

I have recently had the unique opportunity to interview two men who grew up in South Sudan, and who came to America as "The Lost Boys of Sudan".

I first met Dut Tong several years ago. He is impossibly tall, but he is graceful. He moves with a slow, fluid gait, despite his height. But what I notice about him most are the intangibles --his brilliant smile, his peaceful spirit, and his utter joy. It is somehow perfect that "Dut" means patient.

Recently, I also met Dut's cousin, Clement Mou. Clement is articulate, pensive, quick to laugh, patient and gentle. Fittingly, "Clement" means merciful.

These men came from South Sudan, a nation in Africa bordered on the North by Egypt, to the East by Eritrea, to the West by Chad and to the South by Uganda. In the late 1800's Britain ruled Sudan as essentially a British colony. This is how Christianity came to Sudan.

Dut and Clement grew up in a small village in South Sudan, with their parents and siblings. A war had begun in 1983, in North Sudan, against the central government of Sudan. Several groups aligned themselves in the Northern capital of Khartoum: The National Islamic Front, the Militia of North Sudan, and three Misseria tribes locally know as the Maram.

There was talk in their little village of this war, far away in the Northern regions of Sudan. This enemy group was methodically moving from town to town, starting in the northern capital of Khartoum. But in 1987, this war came, in the form of a massive attack, to their own village.

Dut is not even sure how old he was at the time. The people in his village cannot read. There is no school. There are no calendars or computers. Dut estimates that he and Clement were about 11 or 12.

When the marauders came in 1987, they roared through the village in tanks, bulldozing houses, destroying crops, stealing the cattle. They forced friends, family member, neighbors, cousins, to kneel before them, then shot them in front of everyone. Clement watched his father, his brother, his friends being killed. Dut's one sister managed to escape.

It was then, Dut told me, that he knew that the war was no longer only in North Sudan,but that, "This war was for everyone." And he knew that this militant group was targeting Christians, and enslaving children.

Given the violence of the massive 1987 attack, Dut and Clement simply fled. There was no time to try to find relatives, grab any material things, or make a rational plan.

The boys became separated. They had no money for transport or food. They had no mode of transportation. I asked them if they had a horse or a donkey to ride. They chuckled at my naivete.

Dut said, "No, we walked."

At first, separated, each went from one nearby village to another, looking for family. Eventually, their travels became more about finding food and small jobs, in order to survive. Dut watched the cattle for the enemy, hoping in exchange for some food. He was working as a slave, for no pay. If he felt in danger, he escaped the enemy, but fell into their hands again some distance away.

Always, they were looking over their shoulders, alert for the enemy who could kill them at any moment. If someone approached them, they could not discern at first, if they were friend or foe.

Meanwhile, Clement had seen the Maram looting cattle, killing young boys and taking girls as slaves. In fleeing, he knew that he was running away from his parents, Dut, and all his relatives. He managed to join in with some other boys from his village or neighboring towns. They exchanged information, and discovered that all their towns had been wrecked. They began to realize that they would have to leave the area.

Those who fled traveled under cover, in jungles.  They encountered antelope that could gore them, and always, they had to stay away from the lions that could eat them. Clement watched a boy being eaten by a lion. They hid at night, in the jungle, when it was much more difficult to see the enemy in utter darkness. There was persistent famine, and boys were dying of hunger. There was pervasive disease, and no medication.

Separated, Dut and Clement traveled different routes, all the while desperately trying to avoid the men who were shooting Christians.

Dut walked north towards the Sudanese capital of Khartoum. I asked him how long did he think he had walked? He hesitated: " Thousands of miles. Maybe three years." He admitted, with a wry sense of humor, that part of that time, he may have been walking circles, looking for food. Finally, a Good Samaritan put him on a train for the last leg to Khartoum.

It was not safe in Khartoum, though. This was the North Sudan city where the Islamic Front had their main base. Dut could not openly worship or celebrate Christmas. He could be put in prison for being Christian. He stayed in Khartoum for 2 years, but he knew he had to flee again. 

He dearly wanted to return to South Sudan to search for his relatives, but he was scared that even if he did make it back there, the enemies from whom he had escaped so many times, would kill him. He decided to head for Egypt, traveling there by boat.

Meanwhile, Clement had joined with the Sudanese Liberation Army, a Sudanese militia group trying to defeat the enemy. As a young boy, Clement was given military training, to be prepared to protect himself against the enemy, and against animals such as antelope and lions. At times, the SLA sent Clement to the front lines of battle.

Clement was still on the move. He walked East to Ethiopia. He estimates that he walked three months to get there. Clement saw disembodied body parts along his travel route. There were aerial bombardments by the enemy trying to kill as many of these boys as possible.

He arrived in Ethiopia, destitute. He found his way to a refugee camp. At first, they slept ouside. Then, they built their own huts. The United Nations came into the refugee camp in Ethiopia, and brought food and medical supplies.

Clement lived there for 3 years. It was there that he was baptized and that he chose the name "Clement", meaning merciful.

In 1990, when the regime of Heile Salassi was overthrown in Ethiopia, the enemy attacked the refugee camp where Clement was living. A massive aerial attack killed most in the camp. Clement fled, along with a few others. As they crossed the Gulla River, most of them drowned. Clement knew how to swim, though, and he made it across.

Clement ended up in Pachala, on the South Sudan/Ethiopia border. The enemy attacked again.The refugees fled to Kapoeta, then moved to Narus, in South Sudan. Always, the enemy followed them and rained down aerial bombardments,trying to kill as many as they could.

In the latter part of 1992, Clement arrived with others in Kenya. He had walked a month and a half to get there. The UN was consistently following the refugees. In 1999- 2000, the United States Congress received information about the continuing plight of the South Sudan refugees. They were dubbed "The Lost Boys of Sudan". A bill was passed, allowing the boys asylum.

Dut, in Egypt, and Clement, in Kenya each applied for asylum. Clement had lived for 9 years in the camp in Kenya. Although they could have ended up in Canada, Australia or the U.S., miraculously, both arrived in the United States! Through inquiries among the community of The Lost Boys, they found each other.

Dut says that he knows that God saved him! He feels safe in America and is very grateful to be here. He is married and has a beautiful family.

Clement was 24 years old when he arrived. But, at the time of his arrival, he did not even know his age. He was married when he came to America, with one child and another on the way.

Clement is living up to his name today. He is a medical nursing assistant, administering mercy and healing to many in his care. He has a bachelor's degree in criminal justice, and he has neared completion of his MBA, with a concentration in Justice Studies.

When Clement is not working, going to school, or involved with his family, he spends all of his accumulated vacation and holiday time, back in his South Sudan village. He recently went back to his village for two months to teach the village children, under the tree that serves as their school. Clement knows that the villagers, who cannot read or write,will have a much better future if they are educated.

I asked Dut and Clement what they wish for? I am humbled by the fact that they ask nothing for themselves, despite all they have endured. All they want is help for their village. They want their villagers to know God, and to be educated enough to protect themselves.

Dut told me that about 2 million Sudanese people have died from violence, famine and disease since 1983. He says that this war is not over; that this was a war over religion, a Christian war; that today, this war is "everybody's problem". He says that the international community must respond, and that people of strong faith must help.

A few years ago, the South Sudan government shut down the well in their little village. The villagers began to drink water from the lake. Children were dying, one after another. Dut's parish in America donated a new well. Today, the village has clean drinking water, and the children can live.

Now, their wish is for a simple brick building that can serve as a school. They also wish for books and school supplies. In the rainy season, the children cannot be educated under the tree, that has served as their school for so long. Dut says that the men in his village will make the bricks for the building. They would be able to use the building on Sundays as a chapel.

Not long after I contacted Dut, he said, "We are ready to tell our stories to the world."  How powerful it is that, although once "lost", Dut and Clement have been given a voice to tell their stories. I emphasized to them what an honor it is, that they have shared their stories with me.

In this space, I give voice to those who are voiceless. Dut has thanked me for providing faith to the hopeless. He has told me, " I believe that your strong faith has brought us to YOU!"

I call Dut "brother"now, and he calls me "sister". This is absolutely the true meaning of "brothers and sisters in Christ". It is fully what Christ intended, when He said to love our neighbors as ourselves.

The world has become a very small place, dear friends. We are all in this together and if we do not help each other, then we only hurt one another. . . . .

May God bless Dut Tong, Clement Mou, their village of Akochatong, and The Lost Boys of Sudan!

(c) Spiritual Devotional 2013. All Rights Reserved.