If you had a chance to connect some war refugees in Pittsburgh to their few surviving relatives in a relocation camp on the other side of the world, would you take it?
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Jenna Udren, 20, of Mt. Lebanon gets information from Jacob Ajang, one of the "lost boys" of Sudan. Ajang has been here for nine months and is having a photo delivered to his brother and uncle. Udren, one of the students taking part in the Semester at Sea program this fall, will take photos, letters and videos of the "lost boys" to their family and friends at Kakuma refugee camp. In the background is Abraham Alier, another member of the group, who has been here for a year. (Joyce Mendelsohn, Post-Gazette) | |
Three college students from Western Pennsylvania said they would.
The students will be traveling to Kenya in November. Several weeks ago, they met Abraham Alier, a Sudanese immigrant who has resettled here after living in northern Kenya for 10 years, in the Kakuma refugee camp.
His cousin, stepmother and best friend remain there, cut off from the outside world. The students also met a number of Alier's friends and fellow immigrants, all with loved ones in Kakuma.
Alier and the others gave the students letters and photos to take on their journey. When they arrive in Kenya, they will attempt to visit the camp and deliver the packets in person.
The students -- Jenna Udren of Mt. Lebanon, Natalie Kaharick of Johnstown and P.J. Tiberio of Moon -- will be going to Africa on the fall voyage of Semester at Sea, which sails from Vancouver on Aug. 31. They and about 600 other college students from across the country will travel around the world for 100 days, taking courses on the ship and visiting ports of call -- including the Kenyan port of Mombasa.
Alier, 22, and his friends are among the "lost boys" of Sudan who were driven from their villages as young children by one of Africa's most brutal civil wars, and who wandered -- no one knows how long -- across borders and treacherous landscapes, searching for food and safety. Those who survived wound up in the Kakuma camp, where 80,000 Sudanese have been living since 1992 under the auspices of the United Nations High Commission on Refugees and Care International.
The U.S. government began accepting some of "boys" for immigration last year. Today, 37 of them, all Christians from the Dinka tribe, have been resettled in Whitehall by Catholic Charities of the Diocese of Pittsburgh. They also are receiving help from the International Outreach Program of Family Resources.
When Khadra Mohammed, director of the outreach program, heard the Semester at Sea voyage would be going to Kenya, she got the idea of connecting the American students with the Sudanese immigrants. Jill Wright, director of field programs for Semester at Sea, thought it was a great idea. She began recruiting students and working on logistics, which are, to say the least, a challenge.
Semester at Sea students often volunteer for service projects in port cities, but this one -- if it can be pulled off -- offers the possibility of friendships that can transcend the voyage.
"I had learned about the lost boys in one of my classes," said Udren, 20, a junior at American University. "The story was so amazing with all they had gone through. The idea of meeting them one on one was very exciting.
"When we first met they said they don't have any American friends, which is so sad to me because they're such great guys. I'm calling a couple of them tomorrow to go for ice cream."
For the past several weeks, the students have been meeting with the Sudanese to learn about their lives and relatives in the camp. Each student is working with four or five refugees, collecting packets of letters and photos that might not find their way through the regular mail. They've also been videotaping the young men's spoken messages to their loved ones.
If all goes well, they will arrive bearing greetings from Alier to his cousin and step-mother; from Angelo Bol to his friend Joseph Garang; from John Aciek to his 15-year-old brother; from Peter Nyuon, 24, to his wife and two young daughters; and from others to others.
On Saturday, they sat on the grass under a tree, speaking the English they learned from teachers in Kakuma, trying to prepare the students for the stark reality of the camp. They explained the geo-politics of their displacement, described the gaunt faces and thin bodies of the people they will encounter there, the difficult living conditions, and the pain of separation from their few surviving loved ones.
"You can't imagine what it will mean to everyone to have these messages delivered," said outreach worker Mohammed. "Letters often don't make it to refugee camps. They have a way of disappearing."
As for video, even if it did arrive by mail there would be no way to watch it. But with the play-back function on Tiberio's video camera, family members will be able to see and hear their relatives speaking to them in their native Dinka -- and then record return messages of their own.
"I didn't know anything about the lost boys before," said Tiberio, 19, a University of Pittsburgh sophomore. "They've been through so much at such a young age, yet they're so good-hearted. We have the chance to be their only line of communication to people they had to leave behind."
"This is the greatest service project you could ever do," said Kaharick, 20, a junior at Duquesne University. "It's a chance to make friends with people from a country we're going to, and be their pipeline to their families. How could you not want to do it?"
Most of the Sudanese were 10 or younger when they staggered into Kakuma. Their villages had been destroyed in a bitter war waged by the Islamic government in Khartoum against the Christian and animist tribes in the south over the flash points of oil and religion.
Untold numbers of displaced children were killed by government forces, eaten by wild animals or drowned crossing rivers. Countless others died of hunger, thirst and disease, or were conscripted by the rebel army. All of the Sudanese in Pittsburgh witnessed such horrors.
Now they are older and physically safe in Whitehall. They take classes, work at low-wage jobs or in training programs, and try to adjust to American life. But socially, they remain isolated.
"The guys are starved for contact with Americans their own age," said Mohammed. "The people they come in contact with are older. In their own age group, they feel like outcasts."
Contact with the Semester at Sea students gives them entry to the world of their chronological peers. And if the students are able to experience the camp even for a few hours, they will have something in common with the Sudanese that the young men now share only with each other.
The visit is not assured, however. Visitors have to fly to Nairobi and then to Loki, a village near a small airport, spend the night somewhere, then travel 100 kilometers over difficult terrain to the camp.
"The students' safety comes first," said Wright, of Semester at Sea. "For them to go, we have to find suitable overnight accommodations, reliable ground transportation and a guide, and none of that is easy."
Wright is working on those thing through the United Nations and Care. If a visit from the students isn't possible, she said, there are other possibilities. One would involve getting some of the family members from Kakuma to Loki for a meeting with the students. Usually, however, the refugees are not allowed to leave the camp.
"If all else fails, our tour agent in Kenya has some connections," Wright said. "Maybe he can arrange a delivery."
Whatever happens in Kenya, Udren said, "I'll be really excited to see the guys when we come back and tell them the results."
Sally Kalson will be teaching on the upcoming voyage of Semester at Sea. Her column goes on hiatus as of today, and will resume in January. For the next two days, she can be reached atskalson@post-gazette.com , or 412-263-1610.
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