The camp was situated on arid land, sparsely dotted with abandoned Turkana huts, stunted trees and shrubs. A line of hills in the middle distance marked the border between Sudan and Kenya. (The Lost Boy by Aher Arop Bol)
I’ve been reading The Lost Boy by Aher Arop Bol and have been quite moved by his account of his escape from Southern Sudan at the time of the first civil war (1987). I’m two-thirds of the way through and he’s reached Zimbabwe where the UNHCR has reluctantly agreed to pay his school fees to a mission school. Whenever I think my life here in camp is bad (and it’s not really that bad, cold water at 5.30am notwithstanding), I think about Aher’s journey down from Sudan without a passport, very little money and facing untold hardships along the way.
For now, I’ll just share a few pics with you before I head off for a lecture on “mine awareness”. Should be riveting I’m sure.