Today while I was visiting MSU I accidentally wandered into a discussion group for the book “They Poured Fire on Us From the Sky”. This book was recently chosen by MSU for its One Book, One Community reading this fall.
From the book jacket blurb:
“Amid the chaos, screams, conflagration, and gunfire, five-year-old Benson and seven-year-old Benjamin fled into the dark night. Two years later, Alepho, age seven, was forced to do the same. Across the Southern Sudan, over the next five years, thousands of other boys did likewise, joining this stream of child refugees that became known as the Lost Boys. Their journey would take them over one thousand miles across a war-ravaged country, through landmine-sown paths, crocodile-infested waters, and grotesque extremes of hunger, thirst, and disease. The refugee camps they eventually filtered through offered little respite from the brutality they were fleeing.”
Heavy stuff, but what made it even more meaningful today was that there are several “Lost Boys” attending MSU, and one of them volunteered to speak at this little book group. Listening to a quiet young man talk about eating dirt so that he would have something in his stomach, because he was so hungry–there are no words.
The title for this post comes from his discussion of the bombings, and how as a child he managed to survive. I can’t even imagine what he’s gone through, and then to come to the US, finish his GED, and begin college–all on his own, supporting himself–that is true courage.
I will be spending the afternoon in my garden, being profoundly grateful and humble for what I have.