By Suzanne Lambeek
A smile flashes across Yar Jok’s face as she looks up from her sheet of dirt stained paper. An abundance of letters, numbers and sentences are systematically scrawled across the page in her neat penmanship. Lead pencil smudges populate the palms and sides of her hands. She looks around the dirt-floored classroom, lone roots stick out around the wooden table that seats ten in Kakuma refugee camp’s school for dropouts. She sits quietly acknowledging that her future, however bright it may be, lies within this classroom.
Nobody understands better than the Sudanese youth about the importance of peace in their homeland. Sudan in the 1980’s, at the time completely war-enraged, was the catalyst as to why thousands of children, ranging from ages four to twelve, were forced to leave their settlements and villages and walk across Africa seeking a place of safety and refuge. The majority of these boys and girls were either separated from their parents in the disarray of the conflict, or orphaned in the process.
Achol Koul, a lost girl, was only seven when she along with her mother and her four brothers fled their hometown due to violence between government troops and rebels. It was an epic march as the family trekked across the African plains in a brutal attempt to survive. Somewhere in the bush, Achol lost contact with her mother. En route, they encountered and were forced to battle off horrific things such as militias, animals, and even life threatening disease. A lot of these things proved fatal to thousands. Eventually, the group found safety in Ethiopia, which was soon pronounced temporary with the break out of yet more conflict. With this, the group set off once again, with only hope to hang on to as they wandered on through the African desert. Around 20,000 of the lost boys and girls made it to their final safe haven that would later be known as Kakuma refugee camp, approximately 1,000-3,000 were girls.
Adeu, a girl who survived her wanderings, remembers crossing the River Gilo located on the Sudanese-Ethiopian Border.
“I can remember being held by two of my uncles who were helping me across. One of them was swept away and that was the last time I saw him. I was later told he had been eaten by a crocodile.” (1)She shared
“There was little water to drink, we survived on leaves and wild fruit” another girl, Achol, remembers “Some of the girls were eaten by lions.” (2)
When the villages were first attacked, the majority of the children who escaped were busy herding cattle in the fields, when the children saw the villages burning, they fled into the bush. These children were mostly boys, as the girls were usually in the villages, cooking or cleaning their homes. The girls were often killed or kidnapped by the invading enemy. Few girls did manage to escape, however, hence the difference in numbers when it comes to the survivors.
The story of the children’s journey soon gained international attention, and the group as a whole soon became known as ‘The Lost Boys’. The boys remained a reasonably distinguishable group, and the United States eventually agreed to the resettlement of 4,000 of the refugees, 89 of which were girls. The boys became instant celebrities, interviewed countless times by the media about their journey and struggle for survival. Forgotten in all of this were the fates of the other hundreds, if not thousands of girls who still remained in Kakuma Refugee Camp. The girls’ request for equal treatment was simply declined.
Of course, there were still thousands of boys left in Kakuma. However, the treatment they underwent is incomparable to that of the girls. Being born a girl in Sudan means facing completely different ordeals, consequences and treatment.
“In our culture, women are being dominated” (3) Grace Anyiek, a lost girl, explains.
Following Sudanese traditions, the majority of these girls were left to live with so-called foster families, many working as domestic servants. the girls were raped, abused, and often sold off to men who would pay the foster families so called ‘bridal fees’ ranging anywhere from five to fifty cows.
Arranged marriages are big business in Sudan. Several attempts have already been made to kidnap the lost girl, Achol Koul in an attempt at forced marriage. She thinks that this is only the beginning, and that her kidnappers will soon return and repeat the attacks. She is afraid that one day she will be married off. The first suitor offered her foster parents a total of 50 cattle, and she fears that a huge sum such as this one will one day win over her foster parents.
Yar Jok cannot recall when and where she lost her family along her journey. She was just a young girl of nine years old when she was chased out of her village. When she arrived in Kakuma she, too, was adopted by foster parents. One night in Kakuma, a man entered Yar Jok’s hut. He stuffed her mouth with a piece of cloth to prevent her from protesting, and then raped her. In Sudanese society, the victim of a rape is often considered guilty and is frowned upon.
“If people got to know I had been raped, no man would want to marry me” (5)Yar Jok Shares.
As a result, she made sure nobody found out about the attack. However, Yar Jok soon discovered that she was pregnant, and her secret grew harder and harder to maintain, until it just became obvious to the Sudanese community that either she was the victim of a rape, or the pregnancy was intended. Upon this discovery, the refugee society rejected her and her foster parents abandoned her. She was left alone for a while, but eventually moved in with a woman from her mother’s original clan. She is now forced to live with the fear that the rapist will one day return and claim her daughter as his own.
Near the entrance of Kakuma Refugee Camp, a withered sign reads that ‘Woman Rights Are Human Rights’.
What is puzzling about this is that the slogan has not yet been put to practice. They say gender equality is crucial. So they say, anyway. Some things are easier said than done, even if doing them isn’t even that hard in the first place.
Sudan has always faced many challenges in regards to gender inequality, but why is it that the girls got the worse side of the deal? Difference in numbers can’t be the sole reason for what is going on here. The answer goes as follows; Culture. Tradition. Routine. It is important to respect these things for what they are. Nonetheless, Sometimes, the moment culture and routine is ruled out of the picture, is the moment that is needed for change to happen.
17 year old Grace Anyieth is yet another girl living in Kakuma Refugee Camp. She is among thousands of girls who have not yet seen much evidence of this motto being put to use. She lists her chores: cleaning, cooking, fetching water from the stand-pipe, washing, looking after her foster parent’s children. In other words, Grace is an unpaid slave.
"Why not the girls? I would have liked the chance to go abroad. You can be free there. Free to work, free to study."(6)Grace explains her frustration.
No matter how limited, education is the one thing that offers these girls a future. It is the one thing that possesses that little bit of hope that keeps them going. Although not many have gotten the chance to climb aboard a gleaming aircraft and embark on a journey to a foreign country, at least education offers them a sliver of hope. Almost like a promise that the next time that airplane is about to take off, they’ll be on the other side of the window.
Sources:
Adeu http://www.ivillage.co.uk/women-refugees-the-lost-girls-sudan/80016
Achol Koul http://www.ivillage.co.uk/women-refugees-the-lost-girls-sudan/80016
Grace Anyiek http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/2031286.stm
Yar Jok http://www.ivillage.co.uk/women-refugees-the-lost-girls-sudan/80016
"Women Refugees: The Lost Girls of Sudan." IVillage UK. N.p., n.d. Web. 18 June 2013.
BBC News. BBC, 06 July 2002. Web. 18 June 2013.
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