The Lost Boys of Sudan made a family out of each other
In 2001, 3,800 young men from Sudan landed in the United States: the largest resettlement of its kind in American history, begun by boys no system knew how to place.
Most were six or seven when the war took their villages. Some 20,000 fled on foot, a thousand miles east; half died on the way; two thousand were lost crossing the Gilo River.
10,000 made it to Kakuma, Kenya, living eight years in groups of six to ten led by the oldest. They ate together, slept together, carried the sick.
America opened its doors; the system stalled: most were over eighteen, too old for foster care, so agencies placed them in apartments together. The IRC's Tucson director: 'They have been like family to each other for so long now, so it's best for them to continue to live as a family unit here.'
The girls the program truly lost: by South Sudanese custom they'd been fostered into families, so the rules, which required orphans, crossed them off. Of 4,000 approved, 89 were women.
Abraham Yel, a camp minister, told 60 Minutes: 'I've been called a lost boy, but I'm not lost from God. I lost from my parent.'
They were never waiting to be found. They found each other years before; America caught up.