A thick African accent greeted me at the other end of the line, and I asked who I was speaking with. “My name is Victor Chol,” he said. “I am a ‘Lost Boy’.”

My mind immediately went to Sudan, where people are still reeling from the effects of a war that lasted from 1983-2005. Victor was one of thousands of children called the “Lost Boys” who traveled by foot to Ethiopia to seek refuge. Many died from starvation, disease and wild animal attacks.

I’ve read a lot about the genocide that occurred there, primarily in the region known as Darfur. I knew this man, a graduate student at ETSU, had a story to tell. But when I met him for our interview, it was hard to imagine such a jovial man had been through something so grueling.

“We walked 1,000 miles,” said Chol. The journey to Ethiopia took three months. But four years later, they were forced to flee to Kenya. On their way out, the refugees were attacked while trying to cross the Nile River back into Sudan.

“I don’t really know why the shooting took place, but it was chaos after that,” he said. Chol knew how to swim and was able to make it across, but many were not as fortunate.

“I was blessed to make it through that,” he said.

Chol then lived in Kenya for seven years until he was brought to the U.S. in 2001 with three other “Lost Boys.” The First United Methodist Church in Maryville, Tenn., sponsored the four Sudanese young men and helped them get on their feet.

Chol began working in the U.S. so that he could support his mother who was living in Kenya. But she died in 2005 after returning to Sudan to look for her two other children who were missing. She was only back in the country for one week before she contracted cholera, a deadly water-born illness that is oftentimes fatal if left untreated. Chol’s father also died in the conflict 10 years earlier when he was executed.

Chol’s siblings were never found, but this summer he plans to search for them when he goes back to Sudan to volunteer.

Chol and fellow ETSU grad student James Young have been working together to start a new student organization.

The organization was approved last week, and Chol is excited to see what will happen next.

“I had to help out,” said Young. He would like to visit Sudan with Chol someday, he said.

The group, called Sudanese Lost Boys and Girls Student Association, will be having their first event, a bake sale, next Tuesday from 11-3. Wednesday night at 7 p.m., they will be showing a documentary in the Culp Center auditorium.

Chol’s goal this year is to raise enough money to build a well in a village in Sudan. The project will cost about $10,000.

He has also already begun building a small community college. When he returned to Sudan in 2007, he requested a small plot of land from the government. With the help of people in the village, a small college now stands. Due to deforestation in Southern Sudan, locals busted up rocks to use in the walls of the structure, and a thatched roof covers it.

Though a simple structure right now, the promise of an education is whispering hope into the hearts and minds of these war-torn survivors.

Chol’s story inspired me, and it also saddened me. I recalled giving a speech freshman year in my public speaking class. I spoke about Darfur, and hardly anyone in the class had even heard of the region.

I asked Chol if it is difficult for him to live in a place where hardly anyone has heard of the war that killed his parents and caused him so much pain.

“It’s difficult, but I can’t blame people for not knowing,” he said. Instead, he wants to move forward.

“How can we correct what is still happening?” he said.

Just this week, Boston Globe reporter Eric Reeves wrote that recent violence in Sudan has killed 400 people and displaced 100,000.

“I wish all Southern Sudanese would encourage cohesiveness among our tribes,” wrote Chol on Facebook this week. “I pray that God touches all our hearts with peace, love, and care.

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