The journey of a thousand miles: the Lost Boys of Sudan discover new lives in Phoenix.

What young person call resist skipping stones across a river? "We were on our" first lunch stop on the, banks of the San Juan River in Southern Utah. This was the final trip of the season for River Rampage-Phoenix Parks and Recreation Department's outdoor adventure program for teens with disabilities and their at-risk peers. While lunch was prepared, the teens tried throwing stones across the wide expanse of river to the opposite shore. Soon, river guides and "Sidekicks" (our mentors) lined up to accept the challenge. One tall, thin, dark-skinned young man selected his stones carefully and then began launching one after another to the opposite shore. No one was able to match his distance or skill. Forty stone throws later, Deng-Deng Koch beaded to the lunch line, the victor. The next day, a guide thought to ask, "Deng Deng, where did you learn to throw stones like that?" "I learned as a Lost Boy in Sudan," he replied. "We had to be able to hit birds out of trees to survive."

The Sudanese youth and young adult refugees call themselves "Lost Boys." Based on the characters from Peter Pan, the name was given to young orphans on their thousand-mile journey across Africa. While this name is considered controversial to some Americans, it is how the Kakuma youth self-identify. Indeed, they view the name with pride, as a badge of honor for all they have survived.

The Lost Boys' experience in Phoenix highlights a new avenue through which parks and recreation professionals can continue to adapt to serve changing communities. For the staff of the Phoenix Parks and Recreation Department's Adaptive Recreation Services section and community supporters, the journey of helping the Lost Boys of Sudan transition to life in America has been profoundly moving. Clearly, the needs and the cultural perspective of the Lost Boys varied drastically from those of our traditional recreation program participants, and required an urgent and bold response. In 2001, Adaptive Recreation Services received approval to organize the Community Task Force for Sudanese Refugees in an effort to help the Phoenix community provide the support the Lost Boys needed.

One of the first Lost Boys to arrive in Phoenix was Jany Deng. When civil war broke out in 1987, I was only 8 years old," Deng explains about his childhood. "At this young age, I watched my mother die in front of me. A year later, I fled to Ethiopia with other boys from the area. 1 walked to an Ethiopian refugee camp where I stayed for four years. The United Nations would provide convoys that delivered food to the camp. During winter and rainy days, the convoy would be unable to travel. We once had to go three months without food. We survived on tree leaves and water. I am thankful every day for having a place to sleep, clean water to drink and food to eat."

The young men known collectively as the Lost Boys are members of the tribes of Southern Sudan, a country that has been at war for most of the past 50 years. In the late 1980s, government troops from Northern Sudan attacked the cattle camps and villages of Southern Sudan. More than 20,000 young boys, many less than 7 years old, saw their families killed and their villages destroyed. Left with no recourse but to flee, they traveled as a sea of children, seeking safety in Ethiopia and then Kenya. Some journeyed more than 1,000 miles. It is estimated that only one out of every three of the Lost Boys survived the terrible journey to finally arrive at the Kakuma refugee camp in Kenya. Those that did, lived in a dangerous and overcrowded camp of 75,000 refugees, often subsisting on a bowl of corn maize and flour each day.

In 2001, the United States undertook the nation's largest resettlement effort of orphaned youth and young adults, resettling 3,800 of the Lost Boys to the United States. They arrived with nothing, not even birth-dates, and owed the government for their plane fare. Officials had to estimate the boys' ages and assigned them each a birthday of Jan. 1. Most had no idea how to work a doorknob, a light switch, or a refrigerator, let alone navigate city traffic. Remarkably; their determination to achieve a better life had not been extinguished.

This massive effort left many communities across the nation struggling to put resources in place to support the Lost Boys in their journey to a better life. Phoenix was no exception. Thanks to Arizona's refugee resettlement program, Phoenix resettled more Lost Boys than most other cities in the nation (about 300). As a community, however, Phoenix had a great deal to learn about how to accept and support these new residents. The community had largely left it up to the resettlement agencies to provide for every refugee's successful start. Due to limited resources, much of this support was short-term, after which refugees found themselves on their own. Phoenix residents generally knew little about refugees and their life circumstances. This lack of understanding was only compounded by the terrorist attacks of 9/11, creating challenges for refugee assimilation, and increasing the Lost Boys' risk of failure.

In her book, "The Middle of Everywhere," psychologist Mary Pipher states that the Lost Boys show almost all of the attributes of resilience necessary for refugees to thrive in a new country. However, she points out several significant risk factors: they have been terribly traumatized, their history has been one of physical and developmental deprivation, they have missed parental lessons, and they come from a culture as different from America as is possible. She also states that most of what they know about the world is not useful here. Most significant has been their lack of family support from early childhood. Refugees, who come alone, like the Lost Boys, are greatly disadvantaged. According to Phipher, families work together, share resources and support each other emotionally. Without family support, the development of a supportive community is all the more crucial to the young men's successful adjustment.

Many of the Lost Boys were attacked, hit by cars, taken advantage of, or left unemployed and out on the streets (see the sidebar below). These occurrences, and many others like them, compounded already stressful lives dominated by trying to learn a bewildering new culture, work as many hours as possible and achieve an education. "Beginning from our early step of being as Lost Boys, the saying from many of the Lost Boys is that we are the unluckiest people, our chances never success, our hopes are scattered and our needs are not achieved," says Lost Boy James Anei. "But today, with the help granted by our sisters and brothers from American communities, we are beginning to restore a little aspect. But how to gather this aspect is what we have been looking for."

Another Lost Boy, Philip Panek Biar, describes even the simplest task of driving a stressful and confusing. "It is said when you are in Rome, do as Rome does. So to do what American does we need orientation. For instance, if you check the accident record the year 2002 in Phoenix, you may find out many accidents of this year occur from Lost Boys. But does that mean they are fool to drive? Merely not, but they are good drivers wrongly taught."

Phoenix Parks and Recreation Steps In

Two Adaptive Recreation Services (A RS) stuff members were among a group of volunteers who, in July 2001, met four Lost Boys arriving at the Phoenix airport after 36 hours of travel. They wondered if the young men would ever smile. Then they met Anderia, a Lost Boy and veteran of four months in Phoenix, who could not stop smiling as he helped the exhausted young men move into their apartment. After showing his brothers--as the Lost Boys refer to one another--how to work the doorknob and lock of their new apartment, he says, "You can come and go through this door ally time you wish. You are now in America. You are free."

The next afternoon one of the young men asked, "Where does a person find water to drink?" The volunteers had forgotten to explain a faucet. Clearly, these hopeful young men faced a daunting task assimilating into a bewildering new life in a big city--where brides do not require a dowry paid in cattle and where their refugee-camp educations left them nothing to put on a resume. The Lost Boys were eager to pull themselves up by their bootstraps--they simply lacked boots. Literally, most of the Lost Boys arrived in the United States with no possessions other than the government-issued sweatshirt, sweatpants and rubber thongs they were wearing, and documents giving them the right to live and work in America. On top of that, fear kept many isolated.

As a way to bridge the cultural divide, the Phoenix staff knew there was no better entry to America and its way of life than recreation. For the Lost Boys, recreation could replace fear with fun, provide opportunities to develop teamwork and cooperation, and offer safe venues to interact with Americans. Furthermore, recreation could encourage the Lost Boys' own cultural expression by creating outlets for their sports, music and arts.

The Phoenix Parks and Recreation Department, ARS section has a broad mission: to serve residents who face significant barriers. Although its primary focus has remained inclusion for people with disabilities, over the years the section has served people with life-threatening illnesses, those who are homeless and youths from high-risk backgrounds. The goal of the Community Task Force was to coordinate existing city of Phoenix services and the efforts of community organizations to support the Lost Boys. Although no funding was available, city departments, community volunteers, faith organizations and numerous service providers rallied to supply significant resources to support the boys.

"Their accounts, so personal, so heartbreaking, are humble reminders of how simplistic and easy my life is, and that things I consider problems are mere inconveniences," says Jim Smith, a volunteer with ARS and graduate student from Arizona State University. "While I was worried about making the baseball team growing up, they had to worry about lions and hyenas eating them while they slept by a fire. They watched their friends be devoured and shot. In this sense, working with them has probably meant much more to me than it has to them."

Under parks and recreation department leadership, the Community Task Force for Sudanese Refugees met monthly for more than a year, and opened its meetings to anyone wishing to support the group's mission. Ultimately, seven city departments, 40 community organizations and more than 100 volunteers created a lifeline for the Lost Boys of Sudan.

Numerous city departments made significant contributions. The city's Human Services Department assisted the young men with securing jobs, and developed employee excellence classes to teach them the best of American work practices. The Library Department hosted meetings and coordinated educational support services. Its Special Needs Center offered English tutorials and computer lessons. The Phoenix Police Department provided training on laws and traffic safety.

The police officers also refurbished more than 50 bicycles, which were distributed with helmets and locks to Lost Boys who participated in bicycle safety classes. Perhaps most important, the Police Department focused efforts on building bridges with the Lost Boys, whose past experience with law enforcement had been terrifying. The Neighborhood Services and Housing Departments contributed resources as well, and the mayor and his staff arranged to meet with the young men. All participating departments coordinated a clothing drive, which clothed more than 100 Lost Boys and other refugees new to Phoenix.

Adaptive Recreation Services focused on the recreation and cultural needs of the Lost Boys. This started with helping them launch the Great Nile Soccer Team. A local resettlement agency, Catholic Social Services, first helped the Lost Boys organize soccer practices, but with few funds, no equipment, and little knowledge of a parks reservation system, the soccer" players were lucky to find open fields to practice. They possessed a strong drive to play and a soccer manager who had arrived from Southern Sudan as a refugee a few years earlier. But practices in America were filled with mysteries. They were regularly told to leave their practices by other teams who held papers giving them rights to use the field. They had only one soccer ball, no nets, water coolers or uniforms, let alone shin guards or proper shoes. They had learned to play' soccer barefoot, on bare earth.

By removing a few barriers, the Great Nile Soccer Team was launched, with 40 young men regularly attending practices. Adaptive Recreation staff helped them to make field reservations and secured basic equipment. ARS found a graphic artist to work with the young men to develop a logo, and a silk-screening company to produce the uniforms at cost. Finally; the group found a local benefactor to underwrite soccer uniforms and basic equipment. Task Force volunteers spread the word, and soon Americans were showing up to cheer the young men during their games. The Great Nile Soccer team has traveled to Salt Lake City, Utah, and Tucson, Ariz., to play in tournaments, giving them a broader view of America.

The formation of the Great Nile Soccer Team was soon followed by Sudanese Voices United, a traditional drumming and dance troupe. Peace Network Theater was more recently introduced. Coordinated by the department's At-Risk Youth Division, 1.5 young Sudanese men and women are learning to tell their story through drama. Staff has also encouraged the Lost Boys' involvement in the department's existing recreation programs.

Since summer 2002, Lost Boys have participated in most of the department's River Rampage trips. Most recently; 15 young men enjoyed a three-day camping trip to Phoenix Parks and Recreation's new residential camp in the pines, Camp Colley, which was founded as a living memorial to the department's long-time director, James Colley. It was Colley's dream of giving vulnerable young people a new, hopeful view of the world and a chance to enjoy childhood through outdoor recreation. The Lost Boys' experiences clearly reflect his vision.

"My first camping in America I did enjoy it so much because of the weather, nice and cold," writes Gabriel Mamer Awei in his journal. 'A lot of good food, beautiful trees, a huge rain forest that reminds me about back home. It was also nice to gather around fire ring enjoying singing and telling stories. I wish I could be there for" two more weeks."

Each opportunity that brings the Lost Boys in contact with the program participants has been deeply memorable to everyone involved. Participants cannot help but be moved by their resiliency, deep faith and capacity for kindness. Hearing a young man speak about the moment he was orphaned, having to eat leaves to survive, or recounting the terrifying ordeal of crossing the flooding Gilo River, while 2,000 of his brothers fell to soldiers' fire, crocodiles and drowning, can change one's perspective.

Phoenix volunteer Chris "Weaver says, "They are not at all what I would have expected because they don't seem torn down by struggles, but instead are always eager to shake hands and tell funny stories and invite you into whatever projects they have going on. And it's always something: soccer and theater and clay cows, or in the case of the men I am working with, writing their stories. They invite you in, and all the while they are thanking you, even if you haven't done anything but just come by."

The Ongoing Pursuit of n Better Life

Still, the Lost Boys needed more long-term support than a task force could provide, and a chance to develop their own voice. In April 2002, ARS initiated the Lost Boys Leadership Council, comprised of 20 young men who had demonstrated a strong commitment to their brothers' welfare. The Council began meeting monthly to discuss the needs of the local Kakuma youth and to work toward self-empowerment. The concerns expressed by its members were significant. Leadership Council members recognized that many of their brothers were failing to assimilate successfully into the community. Few had been successful in pursuing their" education, a top priority for the Lost Boys. Further, they all knew of Kakuma youths who had Fallen into despair, or had turned to drinking. Many remained isolated within their apartment complexes, as American mentors had not been placed with most of the young men. As a result, the Lost Boys came to believe that their ultimate success or failure in the United States was dependent upon their ability to remain united and support each Lost Boy through his struggles, and that this support system had to be created quickly. Thus, the idea for the AZ Lost Boys Center was born.

The A RS staff provided grant-writing support to the Leadership Council and a partnering faith community. "File partnership was successful, and in the fall of 2002 a three-year Ethnic Community Self-Help grant was received from the United States Department of Health and Human Services. On April 12, 2003, Ag Lost Boys Center opened its doors, with more than 150 Lost Boys and 300 of their supporters in attendance.

Today, this center of learning, community building, cultural awareness and self-empowerment is open six days a week, and Arizona's Lost Boys are making good use of it. They are proving to others what many of us learned long ago-that they are indeed a gift to our community. With perseverance, they will achieve their educational goals. They will learn leadership and the best of American culture as they celebrate and strengthen their own cultural ties. They will serve as a reminder to our community of the principles on which our country was founded. And when the time comes, they will pass on what they have been given to others who have survived similar life traumas and, against all odds, found their way to our community and our hearts. As Lost Boys Leadership Council member Philip Panek Biar states, "Through excellent duties and good aims we will do [so] that Phoenix will feel proud."

AZ Lost Boy's Center is a non-profit support center founded through the generosity of the American people with a grant from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. For more information, please contact Ann Wheat, project director at [e-mail].

The Life of a Lost Boy

Lost Boys still face numerous problems after coming to the U.S. In less than one year, among 300 Phoenix-based Lost Boys:

* Two were killed in automobile collisions and several others sustained injuries requiring extensive hospitalization in intensive care;

* More than two dozen were in serious car accidents;

* At least one was held up at gunpoint and beaten;

* Many had their cars stolen, often leading to the loss of their jobs;

* They lost hundreds or thousands of dollars to disreputable companies;

* Many reported having cans and bottles thrown at them;

* Several reported serious verbal or physical attacks related to race, or to Phoenix residents' fears of terrorism. Those who were victims of hate crimes had little or no understanding of how to report attacks;

* An increasing number are driving cars with no insurance, little grasp of safety and laws and no understanding of basic car maintenance;

* After two years in Phoenix, many are unemployed, or have been let go from jobs due to a perceived inability to learn tasks quickly;

* In spite of their efforts to learn English and obtain an education in the refugee camp, most require intensive ELL (English as a Learned Language) and other classes before they can pass basic GED tests, let alone attend college;

* Most have few opportunities for recreation, socialization and fun.