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The Lost Boys of Natinga: A School for Southern Sudan's Young Refugees
In the remote foothills of southern Sudan thousands of boys live together in a place called Natinga. They are displaced people. The bitter civil war raging in Sudan has claimed the lives of an estimated 1.5 million people and driven more than 4 million others from their homes. Among them are countless children, many of whom have no home left to return to when and if the conflict is resolved. Natinga is the temporary refuge for about 2,000 boys, ranging in age from 8 to 18, from many different tribes. The camp is protected by the Sudanese People's Liberation Army, a group who is engaged in a fierce battle with the Islamic Arab regime that took control of the Sudanese government in 1983. The rebels claim to want to educate the boys for peace and self-government. School supplies are scarce, however, as are basic necessities such as food and medicine. In addition to the war, disease and famine are constant threats. It is unclear whether these boys will ever return to what remains of their
- GenresYoung Adult
48 pages, Hardcover
First published September 28, 1998
11 people want to read
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March 6, 2026
Sudan gained independence from Britain in 1956 and has been a global hotspot almost from the start. It has experienced two civil wars, a conflict in Darfur, and a revolution. In 2011, the nation was divided into two countries: The Republic of the Sudan (in the north) and South Sudan. Both are currently high on the International Rescue Committee’s Emergency Watchlist for 2026. Sudan has been at war since 2023, and South Sudan is (as of early March 2026) on the brink of civil war.
Judy Walgren’s book for older children and young adults provides a glimpse, through text and photographs, of a specific part of the former Sudan at a specific time: 1994. For two months that year, the author, a prize-winning photojournalist, lived in the Natinga Camp for internally displaced persons in southern Sudan. By that time the Second Sudanese Civil War had been raging for 11 years. It would rage for another 11, until 2005.
Walgren begins with an accessible overview of relevant Sudanese history, focusing on the causes for the civil war. In 1983, the southern part of the country, dominated by the Dinka and Nuer tribes, rebelled against the Arab north, demanding its own government. The southerners were primarily Christian or traditional animists (believing that every part of the natural world possesses a soul), yet they were forced to abide by Islamic law. They were unable to gain representation in government in the capital (Khartoum) and had few educational opportunities. They also experienced considerable religious and racial discrimination. For example, they were referred to by northerners as “abeed”, a derogatory Arabic term for black-skinned people, which literally translates as “slave”. Women and children were frequently captured and taken north where they were enslaved as domestic, agricultural, and physical labourers. My own research revealed that some girls and women were forced into work as concubines and that abductions were particularly intense between 1983 and 2002, while the war was being waged.
Walgren explains that both armies, the government-backed Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) of the North and the rebel Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA) of the South, had a scorched-earth policy. Villages and crops were set on fire; cattle and food were stolen. Millions of people were displaced. The boys of the family were often out of the villages at the time of the violence, performing the traditional role of minding the cattle as they grazed. These kids were consequently separated from their parents and sometimes orphaned. (Girls generally stayed alongside their mothers, but some ended up being fostered, then sold off in marriage, and the host family benefited financially.)
At any given time, huge numbers of people were on the move, walking to camps within Sudan itself or to those in neighbouring countries. In the early days of the war, many unaccompanied boys ended up in refugee settlements in Ethiopia and Kenya.
Walgren’s focus is the Natinga displaced persons camp in Equatoria, the southernmost part of Sudan, just north of the Kenyan border near the Losolia Mountains. Established in 1993, this was one of the camps for those who came to be known as the “Lost Boys”, children aged six to eighteen who were on their own. (It should be noted that a few girls and families sheltered there as well.)
Some boys travelled to Natinga from camps in Ethiopia. Many seem to have been rounded up locally by rebel soldiers and delivered either there or to other camps with schools. The SPLA argued that if left to wander, the boys would be killed or taken as slaves by government soldiers. Camps with schools, the rebels said, would help the kids grow into educated young men who could one day govern South Sudan. UNICEF and a number of other humanitarian organizations were more than a little skeptical. It was their view that the rebels were keeping the male minors in camps to train them for fighting. Troops would also have access to food that aid organizations intended for kids. Walgren writes that some boys did in fact become soldiers at sixteen and even younger. During her time in Natinga, the author appears to have seen no military training—she certainly doesn’t report any—but soldiers were often present.
At the time of her stay, the camp held 4000 to 5000 people. They lived in many compounds of tukels (traditional circular mud-covered grass huts). Kuhl Atem Bol, who’d been a primary school administrator prior to the start of the war, worked as the camp’s director. When the fighting began in 1983, Bol had initially fled with his family to Ethiopia. He had been in the company of some of these boys since that time.
There were 25 teachers and a Catholic and an Episcopalian priest in Natinga. The secretary for the Episcopalians told Walgren that religion was important in a place where so many were crowded together. It brought people hope and provided them with guidance for getting along.
The walled but roofless churches also functioned as school rooms for “formal” classes, which were offered to those who showed academic potential. An American aid organization provided minimal textbooks and supplies to this group of boys, as well as the white cloth for their school uniforms. Those who taught and attended “informal” classes under the trees had to make do with much less. For them, instruction might centre around a chalkboard leaning against a tree trunk, while writing might be practiced with a stick in the dirt. If it rained, school was off, as there was no plastic sheeting to provide cover.
The language of school was English—though around 40 tribal languages could be heard in Natinga. There were a significant number of Dinka speakers. Prior to the war, the few schools open in the South were Islamic ones, and those “lucky” enough to attend them had to learn Arabic, the language of instruction. Walgren points out that the people of southern Sudan resented the government for depriving them of an education. It was clear to them that Khartoum believed the ignorant were more easily controlled.
Walgren has skillfully organized her material into several chapters. I’ve already mentioned the first one on relevant Sudanese history. It’s followed by sections on school, religion, food, health, recreation, and the future.
I’d like to emphasize just how dire the food and health situation was in Natinga. The children had apparently eaten a well-balanced diet when a Norwegian NGO was providing food for an estimated 5000 in the camp. Protein in the form of fish and rabbit was supplied. However, the World Food Programme took over food distribution—it’s not clear why—and the food they sent in (grain and sorghum) was for only half that number of people: 2500. When things were “good” kids had a cup of porridge twice daily. Things were not always good. During the rainy season, the single muddy road into Natinga was impassable. The supply truck couldn’t get there with food. In 1993, there were fifty days when kids went without. Boys entered the forest, collecting what they believed to be edible leaves—they resembled what the kids knew back home. Some of this plant matter was toxic. One misidentification led to 13 deaths.
As one would expect, many of the youth of Natinga were malnourished. This alone was enough to predispose them to illness, but the lack of access to clean water further compromised health. There was a river nearby, where the kids bathed, swam, and washed their clothing (without soap). It also happened to be the primary source of water for drinking and cooking. However, there were insufficient pots for boiling water to destroy pathogens.
And the rains! The rains often made things worse. Yes, they helped crops that teachers and students planted to reach maturity, but they also washed waste from two “toilets”—large mud hills with holes in their centres—into the river water. Diarrheal illness and typhoid were common in Natinga, as were other diseases, such as meningitis, malaria, and parasitic illness. Three medical assistants, one a boy of 16 who’d been trained in basic medicine by a Sudanese doctor at the refugee camp in Ethiopia, ran the “clinic” in the camp. Medical supplies were pretty much as scarce as food.
Does this book, which treats a piece of Sudanese history, still matter? I believe it does. Our world, sadly, is not becoming any more humane. More and more people are being displaced by violent conflict. Walgren has chosen to report information of great interest to young people. She has made their plight real. With the help of photographs, she provides a wealth of detail about a place, southern Sudanese tribal cultures, and a struggle for survival that many kids in my part of the world have never heard about.
In her Afterword, composed in 1997, a few months before some peace talks were due to occur, Walgren powerfully observed:
That message is sadly still relevant now. Will grown-ups ever grow up?
Judy Walgren’s book for older children and young adults provides a glimpse, through text and photographs, of a specific part of the former Sudan at a specific time: 1994. For two months that year, the author, a prize-winning photojournalist, lived in the Natinga Camp for internally displaced persons in southern Sudan. By that time the Second Sudanese Civil War had been raging for 11 years. It would rage for another 11, until 2005.
Walgren begins with an accessible overview of relevant Sudanese history, focusing on the causes for the civil war. In 1983, the southern part of the country, dominated by the Dinka and Nuer tribes, rebelled against the Arab north, demanding its own government. The southerners were primarily Christian or traditional animists (believing that every part of the natural world possesses a soul), yet they were forced to abide by Islamic law. They were unable to gain representation in government in the capital (Khartoum) and had few educational opportunities. They also experienced considerable religious and racial discrimination. For example, they were referred to by northerners as “abeed”, a derogatory Arabic term for black-skinned people, which literally translates as “slave”. Women and children were frequently captured and taken north where they were enslaved as domestic, agricultural, and physical labourers. My own research revealed that some girls and women were forced into work as concubines and that abductions were particularly intense between 1983 and 2002, while the war was being waged.
Walgren explains that both armies, the government-backed Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) of the North and the rebel Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA) of the South, had a scorched-earth policy. Villages and crops were set on fire; cattle and food were stolen. Millions of people were displaced. The boys of the family were often out of the villages at the time of the violence, performing the traditional role of minding the cattle as they grazed. These kids were consequently separated from their parents and sometimes orphaned. (Girls generally stayed alongside their mothers, but some ended up being fostered, then sold off in marriage, and the host family benefited financially.)
At any given time, huge numbers of people were on the move, walking to camps within Sudan itself or to those in neighbouring countries. In the early days of the war, many unaccompanied boys ended up in refugee settlements in Ethiopia and Kenya.
Walgren’s focus is the Natinga displaced persons camp in Equatoria, the southernmost part of Sudan, just north of the Kenyan border near the Losolia Mountains. Established in 1993, this was one of the camps for those who came to be known as the “Lost Boys”, children aged six to eighteen who were on their own. (It should be noted that a few girls and families sheltered there as well.)
Some boys travelled to Natinga from camps in Ethiopia. Many seem to have been rounded up locally by rebel soldiers and delivered either there or to other camps with schools. The SPLA argued that if left to wander, the boys would be killed or taken as slaves by government soldiers. Camps with schools, the rebels said, would help the kids grow into educated young men who could one day govern South Sudan. UNICEF and a number of other humanitarian organizations were more than a little skeptical. It was their view that the rebels were keeping the male minors in camps to train them for fighting. Troops would also have access to food that aid organizations intended for kids. Walgren writes that some boys did in fact become soldiers at sixteen and even younger. During her time in Natinga, the author appears to have seen no military training—she certainly doesn’t report any—but soldiers were often present.
At the time of her stay, the camp held 4000 to 5000 people. They lived in many compounds of tukels (traditional circular mud-covered grass huts). Kuhl Atem Bol, who’d been a primary school administrator prior to the start of the war, worked as the camp’s director. When the fighting began in 1983, Bol had initially fled with his family to Ethiopia. He had been in the company of some of these boys since that time.
There were 25 teachers and a Catholic and an Episcopalian priest in Natinga. The secretary for the Episcopalians told Walgren that religion was important in a place where so many were crowded together. It brought people hope and provided them with guidance for getting along.
The walled but roofless churches also functioned as school rooms for “formal” classes, which were offered to those who showed academic potential. An American aid organization provided minimal textbooks and supplies to this group of boys, as well as the white cloth for their school uniforms. Those who taught and attended “informal” classes under the trees had to make do with much less. For them, instruction might centre around a chalkboard leaning against a tree trunk, while writing might be practiced with a stick in the dirt. If it rained, school was off, as there was no plastic sheeting to provide cover.
The language of school was English—though around 40 tribal languages could be heard in Natinga. There were a significant number of Dinka speakers. Prior to the war, the few schools open in the South were Islamic ones, and those “lucky” enough to attend them had to learn Arabic, the language of instruction. Walgren points out that the people of southern Sudan resented the government for depriving them of an education. It was clear to them that Khartoum believed the ignorant were more easily controlled.
Walgren has skillfully organized her material into several chapters. I’ve already mentioned the first one on relevant Sudanese history. It’s followed by sections on school, religion, food, health, recreation, and the future.
I’d like to emphasize just how dire the food and health situation was in Natinga. The children had apparently eaten a well-balanced diet when a Norwegian NGO was providing food for an estimated 5000 in the camp. Protein in the form of fish and rabbit was supplied. However, the World Food Programme took over food distribution—it’s not clear why—and the food they sent in (grain and sorghum) was for only half that number of people: 2500. When things were “good” kids had a cup of porridge twice daily. Things were not always good. During the rainy season, the single muddy road into Natinga was impassable. The supply truck couldn’t get there with food. In 1993, there were fifty days when kids went without. Boys entered the forest, collecting what they believed to be edible leaves—they resembled what the kids knew back home. Some of this plant matter was toxic. One misidentification led to 13 deaths.
As one would expect, many of the youth of Natinga were malnourished. This alone was enough to predispose them to illness, but the lack of access to clean water further compromised health. There was a river nearby, where the kids bathed, swam, and washed their clothing (without soap). It also happened to be the primary source of water for drinking and cooking. However, there were insufficient pots for boiling water to destroy pathogens.
And the rains! The rains often made things worse. Yes, they helped crops that teachers and students planted to reach maturity, but they also washed waste from two “toilets”—large mud hills with holes in their centres—into the river water. Diarrheal illness and typhoid were common in Natinga, as were other diseases, such as meningitis, malaria, and parasitic illness. Three medical assistants, one a boy of 16 who’d been trained in basic medicine by a Sudanese doctor at the refugee camp in Ethiopia, ran the “clinic” in the camp. Medical supplies were pretty much as scarce as food.
Does this book, which treats a piece of Sudanese history, still matter? I believe it does. Our world, sadly, is not becoming any more humane. More and more people are being displaced by violent conflict. Walgren has chosen to report information of great interest to young people. She has made their plight real. With the help of photographs, she provides a wealth of detail about a place, southern Sudanese tribal cultures, and a struggle for survival that many kids in my part of the world have never heard about.
In her Afterword, composed in 1997, a few months before some peace talks were due to occur, Walgren powerfully observed:
I wish that some of the children could travel to the peace talks and let the adults see and hear how their war has devastated so many young lives. Maybe then the two sides would find some common ground in saving the lives of innocent children.
That message is sadly still relevant now. Will grown-ups ever grow up?
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