The journey of a thousand miles: the Lost Boys of Sudan discover new lives in Phoenix

Parks & Recreation, Sept, 2004 by Ann Wheat

What young person call resist skipping stones across a river? "We were on our" first lunch stop on the, banks of the San Juan River in Southern Utah. This was the final trip of the season for River Rampage-Phoenix Parks and Recreation Department's outdoor adventure program for teens with disabilities and their at-risk peers. While lunch was prepared, the teens tried throwing stones across the wide expanse of river to the opposite shore. Soon, river guides and "Sidekicks" (our mentors) lined up to accept the challenge. One tall, thin, dark-skinned young man selected his stones carefully and then began launching one after another to the opposite shore. No one was able to match his distance or skill. Forty stone throws later, Deng-Deng Koch beaded to the lunch line, the victor. The next day, a guide thought to ask, "Deng Deng, where did you learn to throw stones like that?" "I learned as a Lost Boy in Sudan," he replied. "We had to be able to hit birds out of trees to survive."

The Sudanese youth and young adult refugees call themselves "Lost Boys." Based on the characters from Peter Pan, the name was given to young orphans on their thousand-mile journey across Africa. While this name is considered controversial to some Americans, it is how the Kakuma youth self-identify. Indeed, they view the name with pride, as a badge of honor for all they have survived.

The Lost Boys' experience in Phoenix highlights a new avenue through which parks and recreation professionals can continue to adapt to serve changing communities. For the staff of the Phoenix Parks and Recreation Department's Adaptive Recreation Services section and community supporters, the journey of helping the Lost Boys of Sudan transition to life in America has been profoundly moving. Clearly, the needs and the cultural perspective of the Lost Boys varied drastically from those of our traditional recreation program participants, and required an urgent and bold response. In 2001, Adaptive Recreation Services received approval to organize the Community Task Force for Sudanese Refugees in an effort to help the Phoenix community provide the support the Lost Boys needed.

One of the first Lost Boys to arrive in Phoenix was Jany Deng. When civil war broke out in 1987, I was only 8 years old," Deng explains about his childhood. "At this young age, I watched my mother die in front of me. A year later, I fled to Ethiopia with other boys from the area. 1 walked to an Ethiopian refugee camp where I stayed for four years. The United Nations would provide convoys that delivered food to the camp. During winter and rainy days, the convoy would be unable to travel. We once had to go three months without food. We survived on tree leaves and water. I am thankful every day for having a place to sleep, clean water to drink and food to eat."

The young men known collectively as the Lost Boys are members of the tribes of Southern Sudan, a country that has been at war for most of the past 50 years. In the late 1980s, government troops from Northern Sudan attacked the cattle camps and villages of Southern Sudan. More than 20,000 young boys, many less than 7 years old, saw their families killed and their villages destroyed. Left with no recourse but to flee, they traveled as a sea of children, seeking safety in Ethiopia and then Kenya. Some journeyed more than 1,000 miles. It is estimated that only one out of every three of the Lost Boys survived the terrible journey to finally arrive at the Kakuma refugee camp in Kenya. Those that did, lived in a dangerous and overcrowded camp of 75,000 refugees, often subsisting on a bowl of corn maize and flour each day.

In 2001, the United States undertook the nation's largest resettlement effort of orphaned youth and young adults, resettling 3,800 of the Lost Boys to the United States. They arrived with nothing, not even birth-dates, and owed the government for their plane fare. Officials had to estimate the boys' ages and assigned them each a birthday of Jan. 1. Most had no idea how to work a doorknob, a light switch, or a refrigerator, let alone navigate city traffic. Remarkably; their determination to achieve a better life had not been extinguished.

This massive effort left many communities across the nation struggling to put resources in place to support the Lost Boys in their journey to a better life. Phoenix was no exception. Thanks to Arizona's refugee resettlement program, Phoenix resettled more Lost Boys than most other cities in the nation (about 300). As a community, however, Phoenix had a great deal to learn about how to accept and support these new residents. The community had largely left it up to the resettlement agencies to provide for every refugee's successful start. Due to limited resources, much of this support was short-term, after which refugees found themselves on their own. Phoenix residents generally knew little about refugees and their life circumstances. This lack of understanding was only compounded by the terrorist attacks of 9/11, creating challenges for refugee assimilation, and increasing the Lost Boys' risk of failure.