How You Can Help
Rebuild Sudan is a nonprofit organization that is trying to build a primary school for the children of Jalle in southern Sudan, an area where basic education has been denied to an entire generation of children because of civil war. To make a donation or find out more about Rebuild Sudan's mission, visit rebuildsudan.org.
MONROE - Evening was beginning to fall when Michael Kuany lost everything he knew.
The third youngest in a family of nine children, Kuany, then 7, was playing near his village of Jalle near Bor in southern Sudan. He was with others his own age, boys gathering from the neighboring villages to play together as is custom in the Dinka tribe.
Suddenly, there were Islamic forces from the north there to invade and destroy his village and its people. Kuany looked back to see his village set on fire and hear the sound of gunfire.
And that quickly it was gone: his home, his family, his village.
Everything.
•••
It is two decades and 7,000 miles away as Kuany recounts the details of his life since that day in 1987. He sits in the warm, comfortably-appointed kitchen of his friend Mary Richardson, the white landscape of a Wisconsin winter sparkling through the farmhouse window. He has returned to Monroe over the holidays to visit his adoptive family, Craig and Tammy Patchin, and the friends like Richardson who helped him upon his arrival in America.
Kuany is now a well-educated, well-spoken young man who marked his 28th birthday Tuesday. Kuany earned his GED at Blackhawk Technical College while living in Monroe and last spring graduated with a double major in international studies and political science from the University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh.
He now works at a jail in San Francisco, helping inmates connect with services upon their release.
"It's very good," Kuany said of his job. "It's very challenging.
"I try to help."
•••
As soon as the boys saw the troops, they ran. It is what they had been told to do, Kuany recalled.
"The elders told us any time the Islamic forces attack, don't allow yourself to be captured," Kuany recalled. "They told us they would cut us in pieces."
Their options were limited. The young boys would drown if they tried to cross the Nile River - even if they could swim it, crocodiles waited there.
So the boys followed the only escape route they could, one that pointed toward Ethiopia.
Thousands of young boys like Kuany and his group walked for months toward refuge. Throughout southern Sudan, villages were being destroyed by Islamic troops from the north conducting systematic attacks on black Christians in a decades-long civil war. Girls were raped and killed or sold as slaves. Large groups of young boys - some as young as 3 or 4 years old - were forced to literally run for their lives after being separated from their families and villages.
They become known as the Lost Boys of Sudan and they numbered up to 27,000, according to the International Rescue Committee.
The Lost Boys faced a desperate and deadly trek. There was no food or water on their epic journey, Kuany said. They survived by eating leaves and drinking their own urine. Many of the boys succumbed to starvation, illness and attacks by wild animals - especially lions, Kuany recalled.
"I saw a lot of my close friends die in my presence," he said.
•••
After walking for several months, the Lost Boys arrived in Ethiopia. While they were safe from enemy attack, conditions were not much better at the refugee camp.
"The U.N. (United Nations) was not aware we were coming," he said. Nothing was set up for the mass influx of young, parentless boys.
"There was no food, no clean water," Kuany said. He ate one small meal of corn grains per day.
"Life was very hard."
He stayed in the camp four years, until tiny Eritrea broke from Ethiopia, causing civil war. The Lost Boys were told to leave within 24 hours. After that 24-hour period, troops from both Eritrea and Ethiopia stormed the refuge camp, killing many of the young boys. They forced others into the Gilo River, where they either drowned or were attacked by crocodiles.
•••
Kuany had learned to swim in Ethiopia. He made it across the deadly Gilo only to be met by Islamic troops waiting to capture any Lost Boys trying to return to Sudan.
So they ran again, this time to Kenya.
After walking again for several months, the Lost Boys found conditions slightly better there: The U.N. knew the boys were coming and had food and clean water waiting.
But the Lost Boys, the children caught somewhere between life and death, wanted something else: The thing they asked aid workers for, the thing they said they would be willing to trade food for, was an education.
"We said 'Education is our mothers and fathers,'" Kuany said.
"We saw the U.N. aid workers help others," he said. "Education is a tool to help others."
Kuany and his colleagues learned English and received an education in the refugee camp. But it still was a daily struggle to stay alive. The boys survived on one small meal a day. There still were no medical supplies or medical care. "Aspirin was the only medicine available," Kuany said. Thousands died.
It was Kuany's life for the next 10 years.
Then in 1999, President Bill Clinton sent representatives to the camp after hearing of the Lost Boys' plight. About 3,800 Lost Boys immigrated to the United States that year.
"It was a chance to come to America," Kuany said. He began the interview and medical screening process, and in July 2001 was granted permission to come to the United States.
"I never dreamed I would come to America," a place he knew little about, he said. As a child, he and his playmates would look up at an airplane passing overhead and think, "That is America."
And now, after 14 years walking and struggling to survive, the Lost Boy was going to be boarding one of those planes as he began the last leg of his journey - this one toward home.
•••
He went to Atlanta first. "I asked 'will I go to school the next day?'," Kuany recalled.
He soon found out it might be up to two years before he could attend school. He knew he couldn't wait.
Kuany met the Patchin family through mutual acquaintances. Just four months after coming to America, he found his way home to Monroe.
"The Patchins, they are my family," he said.
"This is my home."
•••
Kuany speaks seriously but without bitterness. He said he realizes now that it was the government killing in the name of Islam, not the Islam faith itself, that devastated his homeland and the lives of so many living there.
He took courses on Islam in college. "I needed to know about Islam," he said.
It wasn't easy, but he has found a way to forgive.
"I forgive them. My heart is open."
And he's found support in Americans.
"Americans are very kind people, very supportive," he said. But "there's no way the American people know what is going on unless we tell our story."
So he will continue speaking to churches, groups and clubs about the Lost Boys and their plight. There still are Lost Boys living in refugee camps, a result of immigration coming to a virtual stop since 9/11.
True to his nature, Kuany wants to help.
"There's no future in the camp," he said.
•••
He still craves education and hopes to return to school to get his master's degree in international studies. His goal is to someday work for the U.N.
And he wants to help others. Three years ago, he started Rebuild Sudan, a non-profit organization dedicated to building a school for orphans and girls in his home village. Girls aren't given a chance for education, he said, adding it's a part of his culture he doesn't agree with.
Kuany returned to Sudan last year. He was able to see his mother for the first time and visit other family. His father also survived the war, but has health concerns and lives in Uganda, so Kuany was unable to see him.
He met with local officials while there, securing a commitment that they will provide teachers for his school when it is built. To date, Rebuild Sudan has raised $20,000 of the $75,000 needed to build the school.
Kuany is grateful to all the people who have helped him and have supported his Rebuild Sudan project.
He is optimistic that change will come to his homeland. "Monroe is a very small town, but their hearts will bring change to a county that needs change."
"I am a man for change," he said earnestly.
"It will come."
The third youngest in a family of nine children, Kuany, then 7, was playing near his village of Jalle near Bor in southern Sudan. He was with others his own age, boys gathering from the neighboring villages to play together as is custom in the Dinka tribe.
Suddenly, there were Islamic forces from the north there to invade and destroy his village and its people. Kuany looked back to see his village set on fire and hear the sound of gunfire.
And that quickly it was gone: his home, his family, his village.
Everything.
•••
It is two decades and 7,000 miles away as Kuany recounts the details of his life since that day in 1987. He sits in the warm, comfortably-appointed kitchen of his friend Mary Richardson, the white landscape of a Wisconsin winter sparkling through the farmhouse window. He has returned to Monroe over the holidays to visit his adoptive family, Craig and Tammy Patchin, and the friends like Richardson who helped him upon his arrival in America.
Kuany is now a well-educated, well-spoken young man who marked his 28th birthday Tuesday. Kuany earned his GED at Blackhawk Technical College while living in Monroe and last spring graduated with a double major in international studies and political science from the University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh.
He now works at a jail in San Francisco, helping inmates connect with services upon their release.
"It's very good," Kuany said of his job. "It's very challenging.
"I try to help."
•••
As soon as the boys saw the troops, they ran. It is what they had been told to do, Kuany recalled.
"The elders told us any time the Islamic forces attack, don't allow yourself to be captured," Kuany recalled. "They told us they would cut us in pieces."
Their options were limited. The young boys would drown if they tried to cross the Nile River - even if they could swim it, crocodiles waited there.
So the boys followed the only escape route they could, one that pointed toward Ethiopia.
Thousands of young boys like Kuany and his group walked for months toward refuge. Throughout southern Sudan, villages were being destroyed by Islamic troops from the north conducting systematic attacks on black Christians in a decades-long civil war. Girls were raped and killed or sold as slaves. Large groups of young boys - some as young as 3 or 4 years old - were forced to literally run for their lives after being separated from their families and villages.
They become known as the Lost Boys of Sudan and they numbered up to 27,000, according to the International Rescue Committee.
The Lost Boys faced a desperate and deadly trek. There was no food or water on their epic journey, Kuany said. They survived by eating leaves and drinking their own urine. Many of the boys succumbed to starvation, illness and attacks by wild animals - especially lions, Kuany recalled.
"I saw a lot of my close friends die in my presence," he said.
•••
After walking for several months, the Lost Boys arrived in Ethiopia. While they were safe from enemy attack, conditions were not much better at the refugee camp.
"The U.N. (United Nations) was not aware we were coming," he said. Nothing was set up for the mass influx of young, parentless boys.
"There was no food, no clean water," Kuany said. He ate one small meal of corn grains per day.
"Life was very hard."
He stayed in the camp four years, until tiny Eritrea broke from Ethiopia, causing civil war. The Lost Boys were told to leave within 24 hours. After that 24-hour period, troops from both Eritrea and Ethiopia stormed the refuge camp, killing many of the young boys. They forced others into the Gilo River, where they either drowned or were attacked by crocodiles.
•••
Kuany had learned to swim in Ethiopia. He made it across the deadly Gilo only to be met by Islamic troops waiting to capture any Lost Boys trying to return to Sudan.
So they ran again, this time to Kenya.
After walking again for several months, the Lost Boys found conditions slightly better there: The U.N. knew the boys were coming and had food and clean water waiting.
But the Lost Boys, the children caught somewhere between life and death, wanted something else: The thing they asked aid workers for, the thing they said they would be willing to trade food for, was an education.
"We said 'Education is our mothers and fathers,'" Kuany said.
"We saw the U.N. aid workers help others," he said. "Education is a tool to help others."
Kuany and his colleagues learned English and received an education in the refugee camp. But it still was a daily struggle to stay alive. The boys survived on one small meal a day. There still were no medical supplies or medical care. "Aspirin was the only medicine available," Kuany said. Thousands died.
It was Kuany's life for the next 10 years.
Then in 1999, President Bill Clinton sent representatives to the camp after hearing of the Lost Boys' plight. About 3,800 Lost Boys immigrated to the United States that year.
"It was a chance to come to America," Kuany said. He began the interview and medical screening process, and in July 2001 was granted permission to come to the United States.
"I never dreamed I would come to America," a place he knew little about, he said. As a child, he and his playmates would look up at an airplane passing overhead and think, "That is America."
And now, after 14 years walking and struggling to survive, the Lost Boy was going to be boarding one of those planes as he began the last leg of his journey - this one toward home.
•••
He went to Atlanta first. "I asked 'will I go to school the next day?'," Kuany recalled.
He soon found out it might be up to two years before he could attend school. He knew he couldn't wait.
Kuany met the Patchin family through mutual acquaintances. Just four months after coming to America, he found his way home to Monroe.
"The Patchins, they are my family," he said.
"This is my home."
•••
Kuany speaks seriously but without bitterness. He said he realizes now that it was the government killing in the name of Islam, not the Islam faith itself, that devastated his homeland and the lives of so many living there.
He took courses on Islam in college. "I needed to know about Islam," he said.
It wasn't easy, but he has found a way to forgive.
"I forgive them. My heart is open."
And he's found support in Americans.
"Americans are very kind people, very supportive," he said. But "there's no way the American people know what is going on unless we tell our story."
So he will continue speaking to churches, groups and clubs about the Lost Boys and their plight. There still are Lost Boys living in refugee camps, a result of immigration coming to a virtual stop since 9/11.
True to his nature, Kuany wants to help.
"There's no future in the camp," he said.
•••
He still craves education and hopes to return to school to get his master's degree in international studies. His goal is to someday work for the U.N.
And he wants to help others. Three years ago, he started Rebuild Sudan, a non-profit organization dedicated to building a school for orphans and girls in his home village. Girls aren't given a chance for education, he said, adding it's a part of his culture he doesn't agree with.
Kuany returned to Sudan last year. He was able to see his mother for the first time and visit other family. His father also survived the war, but has health concerns and lives in Uganda, so Kuany was unable to see him.
He met with local officials while there, securing a commitment that they will provide teachers for his school when it is built. To date, Rebuild Sudan has raised $20,000 of the $75,000 needed to build the school.
Kuany is grateful to all the people who have helped him and have supported his Rebuild Sudan project.
He is optimistic that change will come to his homeland. "Monroe is a very small town, but their hearts will bring change to a county that needs change."
"I am a man for change," he said earnestly.
"It will come."