Akol Abol

“When I left my family, it was not something that I would be able to come back to. I was six years old when government troops and government-sponsored militias attacked my village in southern Sudan. I awoke to the sound of automatic weapon fire blasting through my small hut. Terrified and confused, I fled barefoot. But, I was noticed and chased into the dark woods by armed militants on horseback firing at me. This horrific attack on my village resulted in the death of my ten sisters and my father.”

 

Since the start of the second Sudanese Civil War in 1983, millions of people have been killed or displaced from their homes. The conflict raging in the region of southern Sudan might as well have been a world away from the tranquil suburbs of West Michigan. But for one Western Michigan University student—Akol Abol—the civil war would forever change the course of his life.

 

Abol, who is seeking a master’s degree in occupational therapy at Western Michigan University, was born thirty-three years ago in the small town  of Kuajok, South Sudan. The early years of Abol’s life were simple and innocent. Surrounded by his 11 sisters and deeply loved and cared for by his mother and father, Abol fondly remembers the dry heat and the livestock. When the civil war broke out, his family had to move to the countryside.

 

While he busied himself with growing up, the war had slowly moved into his world until Abol eventually had to abandon all he had ever known for the hope of a safe future. Taking one last look at his family, most of whom he would never see again, he headed out into the dangerous unknown when he was just six years old.

 

“I stayed a couple nights in the forest until I found other people and I journeyed with them for a good three months walk. All the clothes I had on were the clothes that I had for three months. I will always remember sucking liquid from mud and eating unknown leaves and berries just to stay alive. Along with other escapees, I traveled for years in search of safe refuge. This journey carried me over a thousand miles across three countries to refugee camps where I resided in Ethiopia and later in Kenya. Three-fourths of my fellow lost boys and girls died along the way due to starvation, disease and attacks by wild animals and enemy soldiers. Most of the conditions and challenges we faced were indescribable. I will always remember sucking liquid from mud and eating unknown leaves and berries just to stay alive.”

 

Abol became one of the “Lost Boys of Sudan”—one of the more than 20,000 boys of the Nuer and Dinka ethnic groups who were displaced and/or orphaned during  the civil war (1983 to 2005). The name “Lost Boys of Sudan” was colloquially used by aid workers in the refugee camps where the boys resided in Africa.

 

Although Abol was one of the few individuals to survive on the long journey to the camps, safety was not guaranteed. If the young boys could survive the unsanitary conditions and the scarce food rations, they still had to worry about intruders coming at night to steal what little they owned. Death was a seemingly inevitable cloud hanging over the camps due to a lack of food and insecurity.

 

“There were days that I would call the black days of our life. What about the food you are given? You run out of it and you have three or four days to find a way to survive. Those were the days that I would go to school, drink water as lunch, do homework, drink water as dinner and go to sleep right afterward with your stomach rumbling or growling. That time was like being in a prison.”

 

His roommate, Alfred Uthou Ukech, ended up being one of the unlucky ones to succumb to the challenges of life in the camp. Although Abol had rushed to donate blood to his friend dying of anemia, he was turned away due to his own anemic conditions and his roommate passed away by his side.

 

In 2000, Abol began the process of coming to America to start a new life. After going through several rounds of interviews, he had to meet with an American lawyer, who would ultimately determine that he could indeed come to the United States. “The process was long, and some of my friends didn’t make it because of cultural differences,” Abol said. “We are taught not to look into people’s eyes, and American immigration lawyers thought we were hiding something, which led to a failure of the interview for many lost boys and girls.” After everything was said and done, Abol flew into Nairobi and then halfway across the world to Grand Rapids, Mich. He found living in Michigan was like living in another universe.

 

“In Southern Sudan we don’t have any winter ever. Period. The transportation is also different. I used to always walk on foot and eat corn grain for decades; I had never rode a bicycle, driven a car or been on a highway. In addition, back in Sudan, you would know your neighbors. Here it is different. You can live next door to a neighbor in an apartment, but you don’t even speak to each other. I am also Catholic, and one of the shocking things that happened to me was when I was in Sunday service was that I saw couples cuddling during mass. In Sudan, you kiss your wife while you’re in secret places where nobody can see.”

 

After working in the food delivery business for a couple of months, Abol realized that he wanted to pursue higher education. He applied to work at St. Mary’s Hospital in Grand Rapids while earning his associate’s degree. Still unsatisfied, Akol listened to the advice of a friend who had attended WMU and transferred to Western to complete a bachelor’s degree. Akol is now working on a master’s degree in occupational therapy and expects to graduate in December 2014.

 

These accomplishments were only the first of many wonderful changes in Akol’s life. “In 2003, I was fortunate to meet a person from Washington, D.C., who connected me to someone in Sudan’s capital city, who then connected me to the Red Cross and I was finally able to talk to my mom and my sister for the first time since my village was attacked,” he said. “In 2007 I got married to the love of my life and my wife, Sarra, and I have been blessed so far with three young sons. In 2009, I was able to travel and meet with my mom and my sister for the first time in 22 years. I spent three weeks with them and that was the best moment of life—to my see my mother and sister again.”

 

Although he has been able to come out on the other side of a tragedy that shook Sudan to its very core, Abol still mourns his lost childhood. “I did grow up missing the love of a mother and my family as whole,” he said. “I lost ten sisters and my dad. If there’s anything I could do to gain that time back, I would, but that cannot happen.”

 

With an optimistic and humanitarian spirit, Abol has devoted himself to his studies and working towards educating others on the trials he had to face as a “lost boy” of the civil war. His goal is to pursue a career as an occupational therapist and create a widespread difference in the quality of lives of underserved populations, both in the U.S. and in South Sudan. After completion of his degree, he plans to work as general practitioner with disabled and low-income groups in the U.S., giving back to the community that has provided him with the opportunity for a second chance in life. In addition to working with communities in the U.S., Abol intends to become South Sudan’s first occupational therapist and to eventually establish an occupational therapy program in his home country.

 

Abol said the helpful faculty at WMU have been a major factor in his overall success. “Professors teach classes but also want to be involved in the student’s lives,” he said. “I am blessed to be a part of Western. It has exceeded my expectations.”

 

Abol is in the process of writing a book about his experiences that he hopes will be published in late 2014 or early 2015. He is also planning to start a foundation in the next year or two. With his passion for Western and helping others, Abol is a true example of Bronco pride.