‘Lost Boys’: Young refugees from brutal Sudan civil war find home, hope in America

Angela Soo

Friday, May 4, 2001 | 11 a.m.

Michael Bol at age 13 watched others being eaten alive by lions. He trudged through crocodile-infested waters. He nearly died from starvation and thirst.

None of that could stop him from walking, running, crawling more than 500 miles from his home in Sudan to freedom.

Thousands of boys, some orphaned, some fearing for their lives during the 15-year civil war in the east African nation, made their way to refugee camps in Ethiopia, where most spent their childhoods, creating families among fellow children and subsisting on what they could scrounge.

Now young adults, this generation -- known widely as "the Lost Boys" -- is getting a chance for a new life. The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees hopes to resettle 3,600 refugees this year. Forty will make Las Vegas their new home. The first 11 arrived last month.

They are being hosted by Catholic Charities of Southern Nevada's Migration and Refugee services and Hallelujah Christian Fellowship, which is helping them obtain their Social Security and employment cards, medical insurance, welfare, food stamps, education, enough clothes and a place to live.

The goal is to make them self-sufficient within eight months -- sooner if possible. "They've had a very traumatic experience," said Lita Manabat, resettlement coordinator of the refugee program.

Bol, now 27, was among the refugees early in the war, and was among the first to immigrate to the U.S. He arrived in Washington, D.C., in 1994, and found a job one week later. He moved to Las Vegas about three years ago.

"Oh! I was so happy to come to America," Bol said.

A bleak childhood

Bol, whose youth paralleled those of the newer refugees coming to Las Vegas, described the life they led.

"We realized something was going on between northern and southern Sudan in 1986," Bol said. "I was 13 years old."

Southern Sudan, largely populated by Christians and animists, was attacked by the predominantly Muslim government in 1986 and has been defending its autonomy since.

One government tactic put Bol and the others in danger.

"The Sudan government would kill little boys," Bol recalled. "They'd pick up one and say: 'You got to go.' It was hard for me."

Bol knew he had to get out if he wanted to stay alive. He left his family in Sudan and joined 27,000 other boys in the 500-mile-long journey to the nearest refugee camp. Less than half would make it.

"I spent three months walking to Ethiopia ... walking," Bol said.

He looked down at his feet and pointed to them, finding the magnitude of his own accomplishment hard to believe.

"I saw a lot of people die," he said. "Some died from hunger, and some got shot. The Sudan government would bomb us all the time. They see us walking and they drop the bombs.

"Some couldn't walk anymore, so they laid down and fell asleep. They would die from all the walking or get eaten by animals."

When Bol finally reached the refugee camp in Ethiopia, there were few resources available.

"I don't know how many made it, but there was a lot of disease and no medicine," he said. "I had to eat leaves, anything to stay alive. We were lucky to find water."

Despite the constant bouts of hunger, thirst and disease, Bol had something else on his mind.

"The first thing I wanted was a gun, so I could go back and fight," he said. "You have to fight for your country, for your freedom."

The Sudan People's Liberation Army recruited teenagers to help defend southern Sudan's independence. Some teens were forced, Bol said, but he fought willingly, even though it could have meant an end to aid from the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees.

"We didn't want the food to stop, but we also knew we wanted our country back, so we snuck away to fight," he said.

Fighting empowered him.

"When you have a gun, you are the master," Bol said. "You're not afraid of anything."

On the run again

Bol was forced to flee again when the Ethiopian government experienced its own political upset in 1991. Some refugees returned to Sudan, while others trekked to a refugee camp in Kenya.

Out of the 27,000 boys who fled Sudan in 1986, about 12,000 made it to Kenya's Kakuma refugee camp in 1992.

That started a new love for Bol: education. The United Nations provided books and food. Bol provided the drive.

"That's when I realized education was so important," he said.

Bol remained in Kakuma for a short time, because he was offered a position to teach soccer in Nairobi. The opportunity allowed him to continue his education in a major city.

"The education was different at the camp," Bol said. "We were using the same book for grade 1 through 3. We didn't have desks or chairs to sit in."

Even though staying in Nairobi afforded him a better life, Bol didn't see himself remaining there much longer. The more he learned, the bigger his dreams became.

"I wanted more out of life, and that's when I started to make that change," he said.

A chance for a new life

Bol applied for refugee status through the Joint Volunteer Agency, which represents all United States and private volunteer agencies involved in resettlement. He put Canada at the top of his list of places to live until an agency worker talked to him.

"Jackson said America was better for me," Bol said. "He told me: 'You will do anything you want in America.'

"I had everything I wanted when I came," he said. "I got my first job in one week. After a year, I was working two jobs."

Bol now rents a three-bedroom apartment in Las Vegas with two other refugees. He works at Mirage hotel-casino and is self-sufficient.

But he had to make one sacrifice: In America, he gave up his education.

"I had to cancel my college because I couldn't afford it," Bol said. "I didn't finish. It was really hard for me, because I love learning."

Bol laughs quietly when looking back on his decision to live in America. He thanks his friend Jackson, who is still in Africa, for helping him make the right choice.

"I can't believe it," Bol said. "Everything he said about America was true."

The new arrivals

Bol hopes to give back some of the help he received.

He was at McCarran International Airport last month when five refugees arrived. The first refugee came by himself on the previous night. In the past three weeks, five more have quietly set foot in Las Vegas.

"I didn't know who was coming," Bol said. But it didn't matter, he said, because everyone is considered a brother in Sudanese culture.

There was laughter, hearty handshakes, pats on the back and smiling faces after the exhausted newcomers walked through the door.

After the caseworkers from Catholic Charities had the refugees sign disbursement vouchers, the young men were taken to their new home in an apartment complex on Swenson Street.

Then came the initial cultural lessons:

"It's very important to do this after a shower," said Ayele Amaviagan, a caseworker for Catholic Charities of Southern Nevada Migration and Refugee Services. She took a scented tube and pretended to apply it under her arms. The boys looked quizzically at her during the deodorant presentation.

Other toiletries were placed on their beds in a large plastic bag.

"Don't take a shower in this," Amaviagan said while holding up a small bag filled with laundry detergent.

Knocking sounds from the front door could be heard during a separate demonstration on security. The boys were instructed on how to use the peephole and door locks.

It was nearing midnight and the exhaustion from their daylong flight was starting to show. Everyone joined hands to say a prayer before leaving the boys alone on their first night.

The promise of a new future

The next day all the young men were seated in a conference room at Catholic Charities. Amaviagan laid down the first order of business and asked them to take out all of their documents.

"Do you want me to speak in English," Amaviagan asked, or did the men want the presentation translated?

"English!" one replied quickly.

The others agreed. They were ready to begin their lives in America.

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