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The majority of the boys belonged to the Dinka or Nuer tribes, and most were then between the ages of 8 and 18. (Most of the boys don't know for sure how old they are; aid workers assigned them approximate ages after they arrived in 1992.) As Red Cross and United Nations relief workers scrambled to find shelter for them, the boys -- which is how they all, regardless of age, refer to one another -- described an almost unfathomable journey.

described the Lost Boys, whom he met several times during their itinerant years, as ''among the most badly war-traumatized children ever examined.''

repatriation

becoming the largest resettled group of unaccompanied refugee children in history.

one new arrival scream and run in fear at the sight of an escalator

Given the magnitude of these kids' adjustment, it was hard not to wonder how it would all work out.

The words describing America had piled up without real meaning: freedom, democracy, a safe place, a land with food enough for everyone

he combination of war, famine and disease in southern Sudan has killed more than two million people and displaced another four million

They're going from an environment where you've basically been given everything at the camp to an environment where you have to work, you have to produce,'' says Steve Redding, who directs the Kenya and southern Sudan programs of International Rescue Committee. ''It's a huge leap

''It's a hard life here,'' Sunday whispered to the older boy, ''but it's a free life too.''

espite their numbers, the lost boys tell stories that are remarkably similar and uniformly disturbing.

While they can be strikingly unemotional describing the horrors of their pasts, they nonetheless seem eager for Americans to appreciate the plight of their country. Predictably, those who had been in the United States a month or more were the most comfortable reflecting on what they had been through, while newer arrivals often seemed overwhelmed

as many as 74 percent of the boys survived shelling or air bombardment, 85 percent saw someone die from starvation, 92 percent said they were shot at and 97 percent witnessed a killing.

Terry Walsh, vice president for a refugee program run by Catholic Social Services in Lansing, Mich. ''For most refugees, education is important. But I've never met a group more dedicated to it. Education has always been the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.''

According to psychologists who work with war victims, refugee children who have finally reached a safe and stable environment are often confronted with long-suppressed feelings of fear, guilt and grief over what they have been through.

Arguably, whether their parents are living or not, most of the Lost Boys have no choice but to move on

Five weeks after his arrival, he was finding life in America to be hard -- harder than anyone had told him it would be

Without an American host family or church organization to help buffer the expenses, the three brothers seemed to grow more despondent with each passing week.

The first three months are always the toughest. It really does get better

''When someone first comes to this country as a refugee,'' he says, ''there's a euphoria of starting anew. But when that starts to wear off, a lot of problems can surface.''

This is a stove burner. this is a can opener. This is a brush for your teeth. The new things came in a tumble. The brothers' home was a sparsely furnished two-bedroom apartment in the basement of a sterile-looking complex on Fargo's south side, for which they would pay $445 a month. It had been stocked by a resettlement agency employee, primarily with donations from area churches and businesses, and the randomness reflected as much: there were two bundt pans, six tubes of toothpaste and no towels or cutting knives. Nonetheless, it was a good start. A loaf of white bread sat on the counter alongside a bunch of ripe bananas. There were cans of beans, a jumbo box of Corn Flakes, tea bags, a modest collection of mismatched dishes and a gallon of whole milk in the refrigerator.

im. Each boy then took a turn at the sink, awkwardly shoving the faucet handle to and fro.

And so began an opening spree. We opened a bag of potato chips. We opened a can of beans and untwisted the tie on the bagged loaf of bread. We unwrapped some I Can't Believe It's Not Butter and dropped a pat to sizzle in a hot pan on the stove. We cracked eggs, each boy taking his turn, erupting into paroxysms of laughter as the shell shattered in his grasp. After the eggs were scrambled and the food laid out, Peter, Maduk and Riak sat down and ate, chewing loudly, not saying a word until most of it was gone.

Hornbacher's, a standard-issue Midwestern grocery store, proved to be full of wonders. The electric doors. The grocery carts. The riotous rows of brightly packaged food and the ample-bodied white people who filled their carts with whatever they wished to buy. With the eyes of nearly every shopper in the store on them, the boys wandered tentatively through the produce section, looking but not touching, until Riak discovered a bin of green mangoes, which triggered a round of excited Dinka chatter. As we made our way through the store, they recognized nothing else except a bag of rice, but each new aisle seemed to embolden them, and soon they were moving as a meticulous three-man inspection team, studying labels, squeezing boxes and quietly pronouncing the names of everything from Special K to Velveeta.

The next aisle over, Peter touched my shoulder. He was holding a can of Purina dog food. ''Excuse me, Sara, but can you tell me what this is?'' Behind him, the pet food was stacked practically floor to ceiling. ''Um, that's food for our dogs,'' I answered, cringing at what that must sound like to a man who had spent the last eight years eating porridge. ''Ah, I see,'' Peter said, replacing the can on the shelf and appearing satisfied. He pushed his grocery cart a few more steps and then turned again to face me, looking quizzical. ''Tell me,'' he said, ''what is the work of dogs in this country?''

government-armed militia

Rezeigat and Meseriya people

Baggara, cattle-herding Arabic-speaking people

Many centuries

xported tens of thousands more to Egypt and the Arab states.

The government has repeatedly denied that slavery exists,

the government has not often been helpful.

escape, s

eleased by the courts or by inter-tribal negotiation.

Reports of foreigners helping to "buy back"

It's hard to distinguish what is reality and what is not.

they had left a life of terror far behind found that it had followed them to America.

Abraham felt he'd reached a dead end

if I go down there, am I going to die?

"And I wanted to tell him in the United States it's different, you need to think this way and that way. And basically on Sept. 11, I was re-educated because it wasn't a surprise to him.

The unlucky ones, those judged to be above 18, were too old for high school and so had to go to work. As they had no qualifications they were forced to take menial, low-paying jobs.

"America wasn't paradise and it wasn't as easy as they told you in the camps," says Samuel, who has done the rounds of menial jobs: he's been a security guard and is now a bagger, someone who puts shoppers' groceries in their bags at supermarkets.

Drunk and abusive, his slave master often beat him. Once, as punishment, he had chili peppers rubbed into his eyes, causing him to go blind.

Experts say there's really no concrete estimate on the number of slaves in Sudan. They blame the absence of data on a lack of concern in the international community.

CSI rescued Deng and brought him to the United States, where doctors recently operated on his eyes. It's unclear how much of his sight he may regain.

"The offspring of those women who are enslaved when they're raped by their masters or their master's sons will become Muslim. They have no choice," Eibner explained.

He was seven when he began the walk. "You have to urinate so that you can drink your own urine,"

Twelve thousand boys made it to a refugee camp in Ethiopia, where they stayed four years. But then civil war broke out there and the boys were chased out at gunpoint to the Gilo River. Many were shot. Many drowned. Many were eaten by crocodiles.

"They feel that education will speak on behalf of them where their parents can't," says Chanoff, the American aid worker. "So they have a saying, it's actually a very important saying that they have, education is my mother and my father."

The survivors of the Gilo started walking back into southern Sudan. They walked across deserts, over mountains. They had no food or water and ate wet mud.

For nine years, they've been surviving on one meal a day - wheat flour and maize – in the camp. In 2000, U.S. government began bringing them to America. Before they go, Chanoff gives them a crash course in America 101.

But the good news is that Americans are accepting them .

"Here are these boys that are products of this horrific civil war and they're coming to our heartland and they're coming to our homes," says Chanoff. "And you know what? People are falling in love with them. They think they're the sweetest, most amazing kids in the world and they're going to be a part of America now and that is unbelievable."

"When I was 12, he said he wanted to sleep with me. I could not refuse because I was a slave, I had to do everything he wanted, or he could have killed me."

Because of this, Carter was bombarded with questions about why he did not help the girl, and only used her to take a photograph. The St. Petersburg Times in Florida said this of Carter: "The man adjusting his lens to take just the right frame of her suffering, might just as well be a predator, another vulture on the scene.

Carter spoke of his thoughts when he took these photographs: "I had to think visually. I am zooming in on a tight shot of the dead guy and a splash of red. Going into his khaki uniform in a pool of blood in the sand. The dead man's face is slightly gray. You are making a visual here. But inside something is screaming, 'My God.' But it is time to work. Deal with the rest later. If you can't do it, get out of the game."

However, Carter was working in a time when photojournalists were told not to touch famine victims for fear of spreading disease. Carter estimated that there were twenty people per hour dying at the food center.

Carter's daughter Megan responded to such comparisons with, "I see my dad as the suffering child. And the rest of the world is the vulture."

on July 27, 1994, Carter backed his red Nissan truck against a blue gum tree, attached a garden hose to the exhaust pipe, and rolled up the window to his car. He turned on his walkman and rested his head against his backpack until he died of carbon monoxide poisoning.

There are also more than 57,000 children in the camp, about 5,000 of whom have no parents. A lack of funding means that services to them are limited.

Maker said that since he left Sudan as a little boy, he has not seen his parents. “So I don’t know where they are at this time and that’s why I am still in the camp. And camp is just like my home now, you know?” he said.

They ran excitedly across the dirt field, barefoot, clad in threadbare t-shirts. An older boy kicked a goal as a smaller child stood on the sideline, watching quietly. Looming behind them was the main gate, where a sign reminds entrants to “leave the camp better than you found it.”

“Anyone confined to a place like Kakuma is rendered automatically dependent on some form of hand-out” (2000, p. 23). 

KANERE said, on January 13, 2009 at 7:44 pm It is difficult to provide a comprehensive response to this excellent query. Generally speaking, Kenyans living in other areas of Kenya a) have never heard of Kakuma Camp; b) have heard of it but assume it is located in Sudan; or c) know the camp as the “place for lots of refugees.” Those who are well aware of the situation consider Kakuma to be a difficult place to live, for both refugees and locals. Some Kenyans view refugee camps as a danger to national security. Others view camps as worthy humanitarian endeavors. Interestingly, many NGO and UNHCR staff working in Kakuma Refugee Camp look upon Kakuma as an extreme hardship zone and eagerly await placement to new (urban) job locations. This despite their lavish living conditions as compared to refugees.