Free Seed of South Sudan by Majok Marier Page B

disease, it can kill you. If you eat it, you become very constipated and your eyes turn yellow and your urine is very yellow. Our people would use the local medicines, the local beer or mou heer , to cure it, but we did not have this. In 1988 or 1989, there was a Catholic Church that was opened in the refugee camp, and that church was served by sisters (nuns) from Italy, and they had a medicine that could treat this disease. So they treated people with agui , and that is when it was discovered there was a Catholic priest in the camp who was one of the refugees.
    The Italian Catholics contacted their headquarters in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, and they sent this priest’s name to Addis and found out he had been ordained in 1982. They told the priest—his name was Father Madol—that they would get him a car so he could open a church for the people in the area around Pinyudo, and then he could help the people in the camp. As you’ll see when my story continues, the priest was a great friend to the people in the camp, and having the Mass became very important to us as a way of praying for the many problems people had in the camps and for our families left behind in southern Sudan.
    Before Father Madol was discovered, people would just pray under the tree. They would gather at a specific time and pray. Then Father started saying Mass under the tree, and that was good. After that, also, we began receiving medicine and clothing from Ethiopians in Addis Ababa. Finally, we had been discovered and our needs were becoming known, and someone else was helping us.
    We had another distraction once some of the elders in the refugees helped organize soccer and volleyball games. Someone provided balls so we could play, and playgrounds were set up in each of the 12 groups. These games were new to many of us, especially to me, but I discovered I really liked volleyball, and I was good at it. Being tall for my age helped!

    Once food did start to arrive, a system was set up where each group (there were about 1,000 boys in each group) would take responsibility for distributing and storing the food. We have 12 groups, and the 12 groups each have a playground where they can play soccer, volleyball or basketball. The UN brings the food from the store; they put it on the truck, and they bring it to the group. They put it in the playground, and then the group leader comes and tells the village leaders to get their food. And each group stores the food in one place. This is the ration for one month, and our leader portions it out. Then after a month, they have to get a new ration. So it was really easy. Anyone could see the food. The boys would see the food and know that it is there. Every group and subgroup of that larger group has its own food. There is a day, and everyone knows when it is, when food will be distributed to people.
    This process reduced the fear of not having food. It was a simple but important way of assuring the boys that we were not without food. It would have to be used wisely so that the ration would last until the end of the month. But we knew if we did that, we would have enough food.

    Gradually we began getting the things we needed to survive there in the Pinyudo Refugee Camp. Especially it was a great achievement for our teachers to organize thousands of minors and control them in peace. Their efforts kept the young boys and girls united from the time they arrived, and their influence continues even until now. We Lost Boys counsel each other, advise one another, comfort one another, even today—we are all brothers who came together during this civil war that tore Sudan apart. Through the school, sports, and cultural activities we grew closer and support each other as we live in homes together, or visit one another in cities where Lost Boys have gone, or visit in our home country.
    One way those teachers helped us was through discipline. They taught us how to live in the world. When we were in Pinyudo, we were not