My Lost Childhood: A Story of My Long Journey Through the Horror

By Abraham Deng Ater

My Lost Childhood is a memoir describing immeasurable suffering the author went through in his early childhood. In the late 1980s, the Islamic government began to systematically torture and kill Southern Sudanese families, burn their villages, and enslave young boys and girls. As a result, an approximately, as numbers are largely unknown and only an estimate, 27,000 plus boys from Southern tribes were forced to flee from their homes. Traveling naked and barefoot, they sought refuge in neighboring Fugnido, Ethiopia, where a few years later they were forced to flee yet another civil war. Returning to Sudan, the Islamic government forced them to travel for another five months, ultimately arriving in Kakuma, Kenya, after four years of unthinkable hardship and walking over thousands of miles naked, barefoot, and ailing from starvation, dehydration, and diseases. Many boys perished along the way and their numbers shrank into few thousands.

Abraham Deng Ater, separated from his family in 1987, is one of approximately 3,800 boys now known as the Lost Boys of Sudan. He left Kakuma Refugee Camp in Kenya after several years of massive suffering and was granted refuge in the U.S. in 2001. Many Lost Boys including Abraham have since become U.S. citizens and have continued to pursue their education. Thousands more have also been granted refuge elsewhere and are scattered around the globe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9781493123018

Abraham Deng Ater

Abraham Deng Ater was born in Duk, South Sudan, between 1976 and 1979. He immigrated to the United States in 2001 after spending fourteen years of immeasurable suffering in refugee camps in Ethiopia, Sudan, and Kenya. He attended the University of Arizona and obtained his Bachelor of Science in Physiology and Master of Public Health in 2006 and 2010 respectively. In 2007, he along with his friends started a nonprofit organization to build a school in his native homeland. In 2012, he started a two-year graduate fellowship with Association of Schools and Programs of Public Health/Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. He currently lives in Atlanta, Georgia, along with his wife and son.

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Copyright © 2013 by Abraham Deng Ater.

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Rev. date: 11/05/2013

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CONTENTS

Prologue

I. THE LOST STORM

ONE                We Are Now Soldiers

TWO              Life along the Nile

THREE            My Sister, the Messenger

FOUR              Departure

II. REFUGEE CAMPS

FIVE                Like Jungle Animals: Fugnido

SIX                    A Trilogy of Terror

SEVEN            Hasty Escape

EIGHT            Becoming a Lost Boy

NINE                Streat Tramps: Lokichoggio

TEN                  A Makeshift Camp: Kakuma

III. IMMIGRATION TO AMERICA

ELEVEN          The Gift of Hope

TWELVE          Hope, a Process

THIRTEEN      Leaving the Vicious Camp

FOURTEEN    Wait . . .

Epilogue

Chronology of Sudan’s Breakup

Acknowledgments

To Brother Wuor and the rests of the SPLA heroes who had sacrificed their lives for my life and for my country of South Sudan.

To my fellow lost boys, who have lost their lives and dreams.

and

For all my lost brothers, who have been found.

PROLOGUE

I t is midsummer 2001 in dry, dusty Kakuma Refugee Camp in northern Kenya; deep in my sleep, I have this one dreadful plain nightmare. A donkey in a lionlike appearance is running toward me trying to run me over. I rise up and run away, but it keeps coming toward me. I have to take courage and have to turn around to tell this beast; You better back off or I will hit you. As he roars and he gradually turns his back on me, I could not give him a chance as I am keeping him on his feet, Yeah, go! Get out of here! Now! He keeps running away and I after him.

To my embarrassment, some people who are still awake are watching me as I run back and forth, but I could not hear them saying anything. Laughter and yelling is now up in the air in our compound, but my physical body is deep in the sleep and my poor soul is bravely chasing an invisible beast. Without my knowledge, one pitying soul is right after me. He grasps my arm and pulls me back to my humanity.

Deng, Deng Ater! he yelled out to me. Immediately I open my eyes and it is Malual Wuor. Deng, what are you doing?

Um . . . um . . . what? I replied as I revived my sanity.

Why are you running like crazy? Have you lost your mind? Malual continued while mockingly pushing me back to my bed.

The rest of the people who are still awake are laughing at me as well and others are asking me about what is happening to me.

Although I am fully awake now, I am not going to tell anyone despite my embarrassment regarding waking up and running around like an insane person. I assured myself and could not open my mouth to anyone, despite being insane that night.

Interestingly, the danger of constant attack by wild animals is getting over. A new journey with new perspectives and challenges is about to begin. After much embarrassment in front of my friends, I sit down on my bed, trying to get back to sleep. I could not fall asleep, but rather for the first time in my journey traced my nightmare back to where it all began.

I

THE LOST STORM

"A child shall wander without his parents . . .

in the jungle, in the wilderness, through the deserts, over the mountains,

and sleep under the trees and under the stars for years."

Ngun Deng, Spiritual Leader

Lou, Nuer

ONE

We Are Now Soldiers

R ed Army, how are you doing?

Shocked by the word army, I was amazed and terrified to be referred to as a soldier at such a young age. While standing there watching the passersby, I began thinking deeply to myself. I knew how the soldiers looked to other people and what the soldiers do to others.

I had seen the Sudanese government militias before in our village of Werbuot, near Poktap. They would jump down from their military trucks and ask if there were SPLA (Sudan People’s Liberation Army) soldiers hiding in our village. If an older man said there were no SPLA, they would torture or shoot him down like a dog. If a woman said no, they would beat her up until she told them exactly where they were hiding, if there even were any. If a young boy said he did not see anybody, the soldiers would either slap him in the face or throw him in their truck and take him away.

Just like what they did to my cousin Makuol Nyankuir. Makuol was eight or nine years old when they took him away to Poktap. We were playing in the garden in the evening when the Sudan military truck arrived on the Malakal-Poktap highway. They stopped their truck and waved some candies in the air. They called in Arabic to come and get some candies. Makuol, who was a little bit older than I was, ran toward the truck. Before they gave him any, they asked him if there were some SPLA soldiers at the house. Makuol said no. They also told him that if he said yes, they would give him more candies. I was not far from Makuol and as I continued to hear their conversation, it got uglier, with some of the soldiers coming from the front of a truck more upset. Some jumped off a truck wearing military clothes. They had machine guns wrapped around their back, chain of bullets around their body, and some other things on their waist. They looked around as if they were looking for something lost. Meanwhile, Makuol was still arguing with one of the soldiers. He was light skinned, short, but big, with a big sideburned beard. The ones coming from the front of the truck immediately grasped Makuol, threw him on the back of the truck and drove away. I stood there steadily mad and furious, as if I would fire a machine gun at them and rescue my cousin.

I said to myself I would love to ride on one of those trucks; they were beautiful, but no way could I be a killer. Makuol found his way out and arrived three days later.

Nor could I be like the SPLA soldiers I had seen before wandering around our villages urging villagers to provide them with some food! Some would ask for a live goat or cow to slaughter and eat on their way. I was not sure where they would be heading to, but I knew that they were going to a battlefield. They didn’t look happy. None of them smiled or talked, unless asking for food, water, or the way to some place. They sometimes rounded up civilians by force and made them carry their ammunitions or bags from one village to the next. If someone refused, the soldiers beat him up and then still made him do the job.

I had seen these military behaviors in our village of Werbuot and in the cattle camps. While in Atem Achol, summer of 1985, a group of the SPLA soldiers came one time with their weapons, most of them carried AK-47s. They were wearing military uniforms with many materials around their waists. Some had chains of bullets wrapped around their bodies. They put their camp right on the east side of the cattle camp. Magot Deng, two other boys, and I ran to their place and washed them as they unloaded their bags, guns, boxes of ammunition, and AK-47 magazines. They really looked tired and exhausted. It seemed like they had not eaten anything in three days. Anyway, they told us to leave. We ran back to our camp. It was around eight in the morning when they arrived. A few minutes later, one of their leaders—I believe he was a captain because he had three stars on his shoulder—came along with three bodyguards. They asked my elder brother, Wuor, where the cattle camp chief was! Wuor told me to go with them to show them the chief. I walked them over to the chief, who immediately told them,

I am Chol Nak, the chief of this cattle camp.

"How many dhien are here, Chief?" the captain asked. A dhien is a place where its owner keeps a grouping of cattle.

One hundred, Chief Chol replied.

I need one hundred gourds full of milk and one adult bull in thirty minutes, said the captain.

Chief Chol tried to bargain with the captain, saying yes to the milk, but not a bull. The captain turned around and told the chief that he had to do it or suffer a beating by his men. On top of that, he would have his men come and pick three best cows from among the chief’s cows. He turned around and walked away. The captain looked exhausted, but his eyes were so red and his face so dark that it took courage to have eye contact with him. He was tall and slender. As he walked away, his bodyguards were pointing guns everywhere and looking in every direction. I followed them just outside the cattle camp but returned to my brother, terrified of the orders the captain gave to our chief.

A few hours later, the soldiers collected gourds full of milk from our dhien. I did not have a full gourd that day, but no bull was collected from us. I figured the soldiers took a bull from another dhien and we were lucky to have had our cattle released to the grazing area without having chief coming to take one of them. Unfortunately, Chief Chol arranged it such a way that a bull of ours would go in turn. A few days later, he came to my brother and asked him to offer one of the bulls we had to the SPLA soldiers. Brother Wuor did as the chief requested. He brought out my favorite bull, Majok, a black-and-white bull. I had played with him a lot and was always the last I tied down to its place after all the other cattle.

They left seven days later but took one of our cows with them. It was an achol, a black cow, which they took by force. It was big and tall but most beautiful cow I ever had among my cattle. What made her even more beautiful was because it was just few days away from giving birth, and I was hoping that I would have more milk coming on the way. My brother told them that he would rather give them another cow, but they refused. While he insisted, they beaten him up terribly and even insulted him that he was a stupid civilian who only care about cows but not about fighting for the freedom of the country. I thought to myself today that these insults and intolerable acts by the soldiers, who were from our own community, prompted my brother to join the military. They took our cow along with other cows and bulls from around the cattle camp.

The passersby had just gone and eyes were still staring at them. Meanwhile, my group I was walking with had left me. We were on our way to Duk Padiet from our villages of Dukey and Rongkuur. That was the beginning of our long journey. The chief of our clan and my uncle had ordered all the boys out of Dukey, Rongkuur, and Werathon villages for registration in Duk Padiet. This town was an administrative headquarters to four major clans in Hol nation. A tall man named Gatluak Ater, who walked faster than any of us, led us to Duk Padiet. Uncle Monykuany, the chief of our subclan, used to talk about him as a responsible man. That he would hand over his leadership to him when he retired. Despite his long stride and faster walking, we did not reach Duk Padiet until late evening. It was a long walk which took us about twelve hours. So ironic that my long journey ahead of me would take me at least twelve hours every day for the rest of my childhood life.

Due to the hour, the quiet town had closed its offices. Fortunately, Uncle Monykuany was already there and he had done all the registration process with the paramount chief, Monykuer Mabur. There were about thirty of us, and our chief knew all of us by names. We were immediately told to go back home before our eternal journey began. However, before we left Duk Padiet, the adults allowed us to explore the town most of us had never seen. I was one of those who never been there. Tall trees surrounded the town, the grass was green, and the temperature was mild with the evening breeze flowing in. Gatluak toured us around a little. He showed us four major, big trees and told us that each of those trees represent each clan in Hol nation. Each one of them was a symbol of justice, and all courts activities took place there. They were all the same kind of trees, called ariek. Gatluak took us under one of those trees and said that it was our clan courtroom and that under this tree, chiefs solved cases from the subclan in Pathel. Gatluak grasped my shoulder and told me that every morning that I saw Uncle Monykuany leaves, he came there. That he along with other six chiefs would settle disputes every day under that giant ariek.

It is a difficult task, he said, waking up every morning and walking this far, plus he got to solve issues.

He told me about my family background, that my grandfather Deng was the first in my family line to do this job.

Your grandfather was a great man, respected and feared in his generation; he did great things to our subclan of Aguen. During his rule, Deng expanded our subclan, which became larger than any other subclan in Pathel. He had such a big and open heart that whoever was willing to become a naturalized Aguen was welcome and treated like a brother. He did everything he could to make people more willing to be Aguen. When he moved from Dukey to Werbuot, we all followed him. His family came and settled in Werbuot first and you have seen in recent years that Werbuot is the most populated village compared to the surrounding villages. Although not known by his name now, the entire village used to be called Deng Ater village. That was because of his warm personality—everyone liked to be around him and he liked to be around people. During court, he would rule perfectly until you felt that you were really wrong or right. He left no one with doubt, which made him a perfect judge among his fellow chiefs. When he retired, he did not hand over the power to one of his sons but to one of the foreigners he attracted into our subclan. The whole of Aguen wanted one of his sons, especially Ater, to succeed him, but he refused.

How did Uncle Monykuany get this position then? I asked.

Monykuany was recently put in his current position as a chief of one subclan, he said.

What about my grandfather, how many subclans did he rule? I asked as I was trying to understand how chiefs rule.

Three, Gatluak said, Aguen, Pakuach, and Paanayuen. They are all called Patheldit.

Now you watch this tree carefully, he continued. You might inherit this leadership from your uncle or from any other member of our clan later when you grow up.

This was the first and last time someone ever told me a story about my family. I knew there would be more as I had more questions, but I kept them for later due to lack of time.

Uncle Monykuany appeared and ordered Gatluak to take us back to our village. He told Gatluak that time is running out and he would meet us in Poktap the next day. It was time for us to get home quickly and catch some sleep. I tried to talk to my uncle, but there was no time. He told me to see him tomorrow in Poktap.

The sun was already tired and its red beautiful legs were walking away. As Gatluak started telling us about our return to Rongkuur, the sky gave birth to the moon and the stars. Although we were aware of the fact that we were be taken away from our parents to school, Gatluak still told us everything. He explained how our future would look and that we would have to walk to find the school. He did not tell us exactly where it would be, but we would have a long journey.

While Gatluak was still talking, I recalled the passersby greeting the red army. I thought to myself that if we would walk that long distance, we might become soldiers at some point. However, I still didn’t want to be either a government or SPLA soldier. I recalled one of the SPLA soldiers’ unbearable acts they did while I was in Atem Achol cattle camp two years before. They rounded people up and forced them to work, like cooking. If one repudiated, they would severely beat him. The soldiers had arrested Machol, the camp announcer, and had him work for them. I saw him beaten and worked to death all day every day. Shortly after they left, Machol died suddenly. I thought maybe they worked him too hard or beat him up so terribly as to kill him. I did not understand why they did that, but I was scared and from then on never wanted to be a soldier.

Gatluak stopped addressing us and told us to depart back home and follow him very closely. We left Duk Padiet, the beautiful town I saw for the first and last time, back to Rongkuur. Our leader, Gatluak, walked down the other road, different from the one we used when we came to Duk Padiet. The bright stars and moon shone the way for us that everyone was able to see each other. However, we were all scared and had to walk quietly through the bushes of the Duk ridges. I was in the middle following Magot, and Manyuon was behind me. I told Manyuon why everyone was so quiet as if we were sneaking away from the cattle camp. Kuol Manyiel overheard me as he broke the silence. He was one of the funniest boys among us and as he usually liked to talk; I wondered why he was silent that long! The short young Kuol started by telling a story, one of the things we loved to hear every night before bedtime.

Listen up, everybody! I know you are all scared and everything, but it is alright; we can scare away wild animals by making some noise.

We all started shouting, demanding Kuol to tell us a story if he was so smart. Kuol started: "Once upon a time there lived a Fox and the Son of God.

"They were very best friends, and each time they needed something they would go out together. Normally they never ran out of food or water because the Son of God would make everything available out of nowhere. One time there was drought in the area and all their crops died. Since Fox is an inquisitive person, he told the Son of God to look around for something to eat. He also told him to use his power to attract food or look for some villages that had crops planted. However, the Son of God was honest and did not want to take other people properties. He told Fox that he had tried to attract rain, but failed to get any. He also added that starving to death was preferable to taking other people’s property. Fox asked him to say where there were any grown crops and he would go himself and steal from them. The Son of God said that he knew where, but the village with grown crops had big and mean people. Fox added that he would not care, as he would sneak in and just steal without anyone seeing him. The Son of God gave his friend the direction and allowed him to go alone. While Fox was few miles away, he came running after him. Fox asked why he came behind. The Son of God said that they were friends and would not let him go anywhere alone. There, the two friends were on their way now to the village of tall and big people. They walked for hours before getting there. After they arrived behind the garden, the Son of God sat Fox down and began to describe the place. That elephants inhabit the village; they would go out during the daytime and they come home in the evening. Since it was about evening time, the Son of God told his friend that they had better hurry up. In the garden, corn and groundnuts flourished just in the backyard, and behind them, to the back of field, grew millet. The Son of God told Fox to start by the house where groundnuts were grown and walk their way to the back of the field. That way, they would run into the bushes later with enough in their hands. He also warned Fox not to eat anything while in there, as this would make them unfocused and would take most of their time. Fox agreed and the two friends walked into the field.

"Since Fox was very hungry and tired, he forgot about his friend’s warning and just sat down by the house. He started digging out groundnuts and ate them. The Son of God was busy on the other side of the house getting everything possible into a bag. Once his bag was full, he motioned for Fox to hurry up. However, Fox was busy eating and did not hear or see his friend. The sun was setting and the time for the owner to return home grew near. Without notice, the elephants arrived: a family of three, with the baby following. Fox still did not see them coming, so the Son of God yelled out aloud for his friend to stop eating and run. The elephants saw the Son of God with his bag full of stolen grain. Fox tried to run toward his friend, but the owner of the house saw him. The two were confused of what to do, but quickly the Son of God told Fox to keep dodging them until it got dark. They did it for a while, but the young elephant was really getting after them and almost caught them. The Son of God told Fox to throw away whatever he had in his hand and grasped his feet firmly. Fox did it as he told him to hold on to his feet. The Son of God stuck his head on the ground and the two were gone, until they mysteriously appeared at their house. Luckily enough, the Son of God was carrying his bag of grain. Therefore, they ate it for a few days until they ran out.

"Food shortages kept them from relaxing, and it was time to go out and gather more food. Fox approached his friend to go back with him to the elephant’s village. The Son of God turned down his decision and told him he would rather go somewhere else, where no people live, to get some wild fruits or go hunting; that way they wouldn’t need to steal. Fox, who didn’t even know how to hunt, did not agree to that idea and just walked away. Their neighbor, Monkey, was also starving, so Fox went to him. It was late in the evening when Fox went to Monkey’s home. Monkey just came back from hunting and he just fell asleep. He was unlucky that day; he was really hungry and exhausted. Fox jumped into his doorstep and started teasing Monkey that he had sat on a bucket of red ink that day.

"‘Go away, Fox. I am really tired,’ Monkey said.

‘Oh, I know you didn’t go hunting, but had some writing at your friend’s house, didn’t you? Fox continued joking. "I could barely see anything right here when I walked in because you lay down facing the back of your house. I almost ran into you because I could not see between your legs, it is too dark. It seemed like you were writing with your buttocks, not your hands. Next time use your hands so that the ink doesn’t get in your beautiful buttocks, okay!’

"‘Get out of here, Fox, I don’t want your silly jokes, I am really exhausted.’

Wise Fox tried to ease the tension. ‘Hey man, are you hungry? I can get you some food.’

"‘Sure, what you got?’

"‘Tomorrow, I will take you there. They got all kinds of grain and some wild fruits just on the outskirts of the field.’

"‘Where is that place?’

"‘It is a secret. I can’t tell you right now, but just wait until tomorrow,’ Fox answered.

"Fox left and went back to their house. Next morning Fox came to wake up his hungry neighbor to a mysterious food place. With Fox in front and Monkey behind, the two were on their way to the elephant’s garden. While on their way, Fox began making fun of Monkey again. He said that after they arrived at the garden, Monkey had to stay behind; otherwise, Fox would cut Monkey’s anus off because it looks like one of those ripe cuei fruits in the garden. Monkey did not reply to what Fox said but rather kept quiet, as he was very anxious to get to the garden of the fruits of life. The journey was long, but they made it. Fox sat Monkey down and told him everything the Son of God told him few days before. Fox instructed Monkey to climb one of the tall trees occasionally to check for anyone coming.

"The two agreed and went into the garden. Fox started eating like before. He thought he had all the powers his friend the Son of God had and did not care to hurry up. Monkey was doing what the Son of God told him to do, climbing up and down checking if there was anyone coming. A few minutes later, the owners arrived, breaking down trees with trembling sounds. Fox heard the rumbles but ignored it. Monkey got scared, shouted for Fox to come out, and began to run away. Fox told Monkey not to worry about being caught. As the giant elephants approached, Fox told Monkey not to hide anywhere, but to follow him and listen carefully. Fox instructed Monkey to grasp his feet, just as the Son of God had instructed him to do. Monkey grabbed Fox’s feet and Fox stuck his head in the ground, but failed to disappear in the face of the angry elephants.

"So Fox and Monkey ran to where Fox thought the soil would be looser to help them mysteriously disappear, but didn’t find any loose soil, so Monkey let go of Fox’s feet and jumped on a tree, but an elephant broke off that part of the tree and threw Monkey down. Monkey climbed on the back of the elephant and found safety there. Meanwhile, the elephants crushed Fox to death. Later, Monkey quietly jumped off the back of the elephant on to a tree, and disappeared without being caught.

That is the end of the story, Kuol concluded.

Everyone laughed, but Gatluak told us to keep quiet as it was too late. We were walking through the neighborhoods and the villagers were asleep. As soon as Kuol stopped telling the story, we all wanted to tell each other stories, which we did until we got to Rongkuur village. That walk did not take us many hours because we were walking fast without stopping on the way. It was probably six hours or less.

Gatluak took us to Machok’s house, Manyuon’s father, and told us to wait a little for further instructions. He came back and said that we had to spend the night there because it was too late to disperse to our homes. A short while later, Manyuon’s family brought us some food, and we all ate together as group for the first time. It was a delicious food though, mixed with cow milk and butter. There was also ayod and akop deliciously prepared with okra, beef, and hot sauce. Manyuon’s family then provided sleeping mats and we slept outside around the house. Luckily enough, it was just the beginning of dry season and mosquitoes were retreated along with the floodwater. Morning came with good news, and that was my uncle bringing us news that we had to disperse back to our homes until further notice. I wanted to talk to him and wanted him to walk with me home, but he was so busy.

The truth was the Sudan People’s Liberation Army/Movement (SPLA/M) had ordered the village elders to take all boys out of all the southern villages to the undisclosed place. The SPLA commander, Kuol Manyang, issued the order that parents would be fined or even jailed if they failed to obey the authorities, but the village elders did not tell us the main reason we were leaving them. They said it was for an education. I didn’t care so much then, since our journey was then postponed!

Uncle Monykuay just told me to go home to Dukey with the rest of the boys. I was with Magot and Manyuon. Dukey village was about a thirty-minute walk. We went home that morning very excited because were not able to leave our parents to the unknown place, at least at that time.

Since the cattle were in Dukey cattle camp, just five minutes away from our house, I went there the next morning before Uncle Monykuany came home. I wanted to talk to him about all these mysterious departure. He never talked about it before, so I thought he just did not want me to look after the cattle anymore. Normally, parents send disobedient children to schools. I started blaming myself and then became angry because I did nothing wrong to deserve that. I never had a chance to come back home as I got busy with the cattle, and the adventurous lifestyles lie ahead of me, in the toc areas.

TWO

Life along the Nile

W e were on our way to the toc areas to live a luxurious life along the beach.

Meanwhile, back home, as it was the beginning of the winter season and its stems were drying, the millet harvest was underway. My parents had planted the angul, the second crop grown from the seeds of the main crop during the winter, as we, the young people in the village, started moving the cattle out of the huts to the nearest cattle camp. The practice is widely known as tuek biic in the Dinka language. Fogs and frosts of winter had slowly emerged and settled in the valleys. Beautiful grass, damaged by the previous summer’s heavy rain, rose again from the moist earth. The land had begun to dry as Mother Nature stopped wetting the soil. Mosquitoes faded away, banished to the swampiest areas. It was a wonderful time for all the young boys who watched over the calves while adults tended the cattle. The green fertile land and lush beauty of the cattle camps have remained on my eyes all these years.

Right from Dukey cattle camp, we moved to Pabongeek cattle camp. It was about one hour away from Dukey. That time, my brother, Wuor, was sick and he had to remain at home. Moving with the cattle was a very slow and exhausting but funny journey. We had to carry cattle ties/ropes and sticks all along the way, in addition to our personal luggage. The luggage at that time was containers like jugs or gourds for milking cows. Men did not have to wear clothes at that time. Since I was the man then, alone with about fifty cows, I made my own decision. I then tied all the ropes and sticks to the cattle’s necks so they carry their own luggage as I carried mine. Fortunately, Manyuon was there to help me. An adult from his dhien was available and was taking care of the things there. He came to help me with some jugs and I had to carry only gourds.

A few weeks later, we moved to Pacharngany cattle camp, not far from Pabongeek. Fortunately, my brother was healthy and had caught up to us by Pabongeek cattle camp. We were moving slowly and gradually, one cattle camp after the other, to the toc areas along the Nile River. I looked forward to finally taking a rest and our usual fun activities on the beach.

More importantly, our survival depended on the floodplain of the Nile River. The beautiful resort of the swampy areas along the Nile River has yet to fade in any detail from my mind. It was what kept our livestock, crops, and we, the people, alive.

The river flows year round and provides the Dinka with more than enough water to maintain themselves and their livestock. Further, we Dinka lead a nomadic life wherein during the summer season, usually from December to