Running for My Life: One Lost Boy's Journey From the Killing Fields of Sudan to the Olympic Games by Lopez Lomong Read Free Book Online Page B

mother and father for chores. In Kakuma, I did not have to ask what to do. We all had specific tasks we had to do every day. “You will stand in line for water every morning, Lopepe,” I was told as a boy handed me a five-gallon jerrican.
    “Show me where to go and I will do it,” I said. The UN piped in water for the camp. The water station consisted of four spigots where we filled up our cans. However, four spigots aren’t very many for the thousands who lived in the camp. My first couple of years in Kakuma, I had to wake up in the middle of the night, grab my can, and go wait in line. At six, I was too small to carry the filled bucket back to the tent. One of the older boys came and got it. I did not like having to hand my jerrican over to someone else. “Someday,” I told myself, “I will be big enough to carry the can back myself.”
    When I was little, as soon as my chores were over, I went out and played hide-and-seek with my friends. When the rains came and the creek filled up with water, my buddies and I swam until our arms gave out. Then we built little houses in the sand along the shore. We played house with those sandcastles, just like we did in Kimotong.
    By my fifth or sixth year in the camp, I did not have time for games, although I still played soccer. In Kakuma soccer is not a game but a way of life. The rest of the time, I took on more and more responsibilities. I was in charge of the ration cards for all the boys in our tent. To make sure no one lost his card, I kept them all together in a safe place. I also calculated our daily rations. The UN handed out food once a month. I had to make the grain they gave us last until the next distribution. It was up to me to take out just the right amount for each meal. If I miscalculated, we would go hungry. I made sure I never miscalculated. Every Christmas and Easter the UN also gave us a chicken, one for each tent. One chicken is not very much meat for ten hungry boys. Therefore, to make it stretch, we cooked it in a soup. Not everyone actually got a piece of meat. But by making it into a soup, we all got a taste of chicken. I made sure of that.
    The more responsibilities I took on, the more I wanted. I loved to work. I enjoyed taking care of the younger boys. We had to look out for one another to survive, and survival was the name of the game in the camp. But I wanted to thrive, not just survive. I looked for ways to do more for my family of boys. One of the many relief agencies who came in and out of Kakuma handed out some vegetable seeds. I helped plant a garden next to our house, and I carried the water to each little plant to keep it from dying in the desert sun.
    Slowly but surely, I was becoming a different boy. The way I saw life in the camp evolved, as did the way I viewed church and my relationship with God. When I was a little boy, going to church and singing praises to God was enough for me. I loved church, and I loved to sing. The boys in the camp became an informal choir. We passed the time singing and singing and singing. As a little boy, I sang in the tenor section. When I got older, I tried to make my voice deep enough to move to the bass section. The priest listened to me sing a note or two and put me back with the tenors.
    The longer I was in Kakuma, the more central to my life church became. It was my doorway out of the refugee camp and into a wider world. I heard news from the outside there. It was also our post office. But the best part was the worship. When I was at church, I did not think about hunger or malaria or any of the hardships of the camp. I didn’t pray that God would provide for me in the camp. I was just trying to survive, and going to church was a part of that survival.
    A turning point for me came a few weeks before Christmas when the priest announced confirmation classes were to begin the following week. “A baptism service will follow on Christmas Eve for those who completed the class and are serious about a