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Now men, 'lost boys' search for their families

Kuol Acuek, one of the ''lost boys'' of Sudan, is raising money to return home to reunite with his brother and perhaps find the rest of his family. Kuol Acuek, one of the ''lost boys'' of Sudan, is raising money to return home to reunite with his brother and perhaps find the rest of his family. (Globe Staff Photo / Jonathan Wiggs)
By Meghan Irons
Globe Staff / April 27, 2009
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The phone call, made late in the night, lasted only five minutes. But it's all Kuol Acuek has to hold onto.

Maybe, just maybe, his younger brother is alive.

Though the conversation was cut short because of a bad connection, Acuek believes he had heard the voice of Geu, the toddler he left behind when he and other youths fled their village during Sudan's second civil war in the 1980s.

"He sounded like me," said Acuek. "That's why I believed."

In the nine years since he was given refugee status in the United States, Acuek has been yearning to find a link to his relatives. Geu's call three years ago gave him a glimmer of hope that they will meet again.

Now Acuek is raising money to return to Sudan to reunite with Geu and perhaps find the rest of his family.

"I don't sleep," said Acuek, who has raised $2,000 so far. "I've been hoping that I'm going to go and meet him."

Acuek is known as one of the "lost boys of Sudan," a name given to thousands of youths who were displaced when Arab and Islamic government forces from the north invaded that African nation's southern villages during the second civil war.

More than 4,000 children, including Acuek, resettled in the United States as refugees, according to the Sudanese Education Fund, a nonprofit based in Arlington that works with the south Sudanese refugees.

Today more than 250 such refugees live in the Boston area, and many are searching for or have found their families.

"The reason we were called 'lost boys' is not because we were lost physically or mentally. It's because we lost our families," said Deng Nyuon, a graduate student at Boston College who helped Acuek connect with his brother.

After their arrival in the United States, many of the "lost boys" focused on finishing high school and college - impossible goals in their homeland, said Pam Bartter, a board member of Friends of the Sudanese, a Lincoln-based nonprofit that is helping Acuek raise funds for his trip.

But as they have grown older and finished school, the young men have begun to concentrate on finding their relatives.

That is the case with Acuek, who is preparing to graduate from Lasell College next month. He has seen other refugees return to Sudan to reunite with their families and is eager to do the same.

"I think it's huge for him," Bartter said. "All the Sudanese are kind of brothers to each other. Aside from that, he's essentially alone unless he can locate family back home. . . . This will give him closure and peace of mind."

Bol Riiny, who works as an administrator at the Sudanese Education Fund, said reuniting with his family last year helped him fill a void. The former "lost boy" traveled to Sudan, where villagers slaughtered cows and goats for a joyous feast in honor of his return. After the war, Riiny's family members had found themselves scattered to refugee camps in different parts of Africa - his brothers in Uganda, his sisters in Ethiopia, his parents in the Congo - and eventually returned to their village in Sudan.

He saw them at the feast for the first time in nearly 20 years.

"When I found out that they were still alive, I couldn't imagine what it would be like to meet them again," Riiny said. "To see all of them, it was a big shock."

Nyuon also reunited with his family members three years ago with the help of a Globe reporter who tracked them down.

Villagers in Anyidi, where Acuek is also from, flocked to Nyuon's family compound to ask questions about the boys they, too, had lost after the war.

After the elders spoke, a tall, soft-spoken young man got his chance. He told Nyuon that he wants to find his brother in the United States whose name is Kuol. Looking at the young man - the ears, the nose, and the face - Nyuon knew he had found Geu.

"Descriptionwise I was not surprised," said Nyuon, a close friend of Acuek. "He resembles Kuol, only he's a little taller."

Nyuon brought Geu to Uganda and arranged for the phone call.

Acuek, 27, last saw his younger brother when they were both children in Anyidi in southern Sudan. The northern soldiers attacked as Acuek was playing in the playground. Acuek ran toward his house but found no one. So he kept running.

He joined up with young boys from other villages, and they spent months wandering in the bush, braving extreme hunger, disease, and even lions. Some died.

They were eventually taken to refugee camps, first in Ethiopia and then in Kenya, where Acuek spent nine years before he was sent to the United States.

Through his ordeal, Acuek never forgot about his family. In Ethiopia he longed for his mother's hushed lullabies, his father's voice, and his baby brother's smiling face.

Now, he thinks about Geu and his family often. He is not certain his parents are alive.

"You have to have your family," he said. "I just want to know who they are. I just want to find them."

Meghan Irons can be reached at mirons@globe.com.