The World of the Lost...

My name is Peter. I was forced out of my home country, Sudan. The British had come to Sudan and had governed the North and the South of Sudan, but as separate regions. Since they left, the North had backed down on the agreement, made in 1953, to give the South autonomy. The South didn’t think that it was fair that the North was the rich and powerful. Which lead to the North and South fighting in a gruesome war.

I was sitting at a fire with my father and grandmother when the shots were heard. My father and I ran while my grandmother and the rest of my family ran a different way. We ran and ran with the heat on us from the desert. Our feet started to wear away and we had very little supply of water and food. Many of the boys that were with me died, they just fell never getting back up. Some were attacked by lions or shot by hunters. My father was one of the men that fell. I was only four when this happened and had to finish the journey on my own. We finally made it to Kenya where we heard there were refugee camps. They welcomed us and gave us beds and clothes to cover our backs. I made many friends who I now call brothers. We stick together and help each other. The people at the refugee call us the Lost Boys because they found us without any parents. We we’re alone. I stayed at the refugee for more than 9 years. The refugee was good to us, but it was hard to live there. We had small homes, no electricity, had rationed food, and the hygienic stations were just a metal sheet for a wall. But we had things to do. Like me, I had basketball. I really enjoy it. When the UNHCR group came to the Refugee camp and set up a program with us to send us to America so that we could start a new life, I was actually excited. America seemed like heaven and I would be able to go to school. The program has been going on now for years now, but now I am finally able to apply to be sent to the states. I was chosen to be flown over to the states and I have given my old basketball shoes and books to my brothers that will be staying here at the refugee. I am going to be living in Houston, Texas with many of my brothers.



Once we get off the plane the group of people that work at YMCA come and help us get started in the states. They tell us they will help us with rent for 4 months and money for 4 months. They teach us about jobs and that we may be able to get into school. We learn how to shop for food and hygienic supplies. My English will hopefully get better too.

Me and Santino are very close now. He is a very close friend. The apartment here is nice but many of the boys are afraid that they will fall through the second floor. There is a lot of food here and I might get fat.



A few months later:

We are living on our own now. Santino has a job at a factory and I have finally got a job as well. But I noticed that America is not like heaven at all. It's very hard. And people back home at the refugee are waiting for money from us. They expect us to send them money, but we don't make much. And the people at the YMCA said that we could go to school. I can't go to school here. I want to start somewhere new. Where the people here are not mean. We don't fit in. We are darker than the black people here and they play rough when it comes to playing basketball. That's why I've decided to move to Kansas, Missouri.



Kansas, Missouri:

I left Santino behind. I'm still helping him with the rent though. He's upset that I left him without him knowing. He really wanted to be with me since we are close friends. Once I got to Kansas, I really wanted to start school, but the people at the program said that I was to old to start. But they don't know my true age because when we are born, we don't get birth certificates. I finally got a letter saying I could go to school.

It's hard, school is. I had to fight my way in, and its hard to keep up. I have to live on my own and I have no friends. Money is hard to make, but I will hopefully get a job. I made enough money at my last job, that I was able to get a cheap car.

I've finally made friends, and I have a girlfriend. I even tried out for the basketball team but did not make it. I have done much better in school and I would like to go to college. But my family and friends back in Kenya are waiting for money. I don't have any right now and they want me to borrow it off someone else. So I got a job at Walmart. The manager stuck me outside in the heat just because I was from Sudan, where it is hot and just because I am black.

America is not heaven like I thought it would be before. It is a very hard place to live in. It's hard to get money and I will never truly fit in.

I am a lost boy in this new world...