Brown Hair
16 min readBy Apioth Mayom Apioth, USA
Angok Juach is a fourth year, civil engineering student at Whitworth University in Spokane, Washington. He arrived in the United States on April 16th, 2001, along with his half-brother, Matiop, through the US Department of State Refugee-sponsored program of the so-called Lost Boys of Sudan. They were called the Lost Boys because they travelled unaccompanied for thousands of miles from the then Sudan (now South Sudan) to Ethiopia, and then to Kenya. Along the way, they fought off hunger, thirst, wild animals, and many war-induced humanitarian upheavals. He has a blurred memory of the first time he met his brother Matiop, because he was a seven-year-old then, when he was brought over by his father. Five years earlier, his father was remarried after Angok’s mother divorced him when she discovered his promiscuous ways. She first caught him in bed with another woman when she was coming back from the grocery shop, which was one street down the road. The second time she caught him she was coming from a traditional dance festival, which was held just two blocks away. All these betrayals happened while she was a mouth-call away from her husband. Before she packed her things and left, this was what she said: “How long do you plan on continuing following this wicked path?” She asked. “The last time you betrayed my trust, I forgave you and said, ‘maybe that witch caught you off guard during your weak moment.’ Now, what is even worse I caught you with a different woman this time. And all these things happened while I was just a few blocks away from the house. If you are like this, while I am within the corridors of the community, imagine, what you will do while I am vacationing in far-flung places like Malakal.” She said. Juach Sr. didn’t bother to say anything. He only bowed to change his bad boy image, and promised himself to never let another good woman slip away. And that was how Angok went to live with his mother and her new husband, his stepfather. Angok was three months old.
Matiop’s mother, Samira, on the flip side of the coin, was the daughter of a wealthy Iranian businessman, who had moved to Juba fifteen years earlier to find pastures anew. Juach first met Samira at Shirdel Supermarket when he went to solicit to let his future father-in-law to come and lecture one of his business classes on the principles of business management at a local Awado Secondary School, where he was the leading principal. Since Matiop’s grandfather was a prominent businessman in town he seemed like the right person to approach on how to generate wealth for your business. Matiop’s grandparents would prove to Juach as the hardest people to please. After Juach’s first encounter with Samira, it took him quite a few months to win her over. They seemed to be made for each other. Samira was a beautiful, well-behaved girl, who seemed to like everything about Juach. Besides, what was not to like about Juach: He was handsome, he had the height (he was standing at a whopping 6 feet, 8 inches), and had a slippery tongue, which at times, when he started cracking jokes, he would sent her laughing down the floor to walk on all fours; by then, he would just marvel at the wonders of his smart mouth. He didn’t have a long, hybrid face that sort of looked feminine; his was short, handsomely molded to look like a stubborn teenage face that refused to age. Samira felt that with Juach’s hulking towering figure, which sent a message of authority, and his slippery tongue, she would feel protected under his care.
Things by now had become clearer to Juach: he was riding a bobsled on cloud nine with Samira, and he was hitting an impenetrable fortress with Samira’s parents, who were highly disapproving of their marriage. Her parents’ objections were this: She had never known poverty and under this circumstance, she could survive the few years of marriage since she seemed to enjoy being around him, but how would she survive the whole life full of pitiful living hand to mouth? Juach’s income as a principal was barely enough for himself, let alone, another mouth to feed. One year would pass before Juach decided enough was enough. He coaxed Samira to elope with him. They went to Yambia, in the Southwestern part of the country, close to the international borders of Zaire, now called the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Yambio wasn’t popular in those days, except for its promising timber production. They settled down quickly, and barely a year later, Matiop was welcomed into the world. With Samira having given birth to Matiop, Juach felt Samira’s parents wouldn’t have too much objection to his prior proposal to take Samira’s hand in marriage. The thought of this triggered them to come rushing back to Juba; Juach, in particular, was becoming fed up with the suffocating small town’s environment: There were no bars, no clubs; places where he usually went to pop open a beer, or go on date nights with female friends to relief himself of the daily grind of work stress.
Upon returning, Samira’s parents finally gave up and allowed the couple to tie a knot. Samira’s parents felt there was no need to let their daughter lead a single life when there was someone to take care of her; as single mothers were looked down with contempt in those conservative days. On the other side of the town, Angok was adding on years at his mother’s and stepdad’s homestead. Five years went by rather quickly. Angok was now seven years old, and Matiop was five. Meanwhile, the thought of allowing his son to be raised by a family he hardly kept in touch with, made Juach felt at an unease. “What kind of man will he grow up to be?” He questioned himself knowingly. Juach went to greater lengths to convinced Angok’s mother about the prospects of finding peace if he was given the chance to raise him. Before long, Angok came to live with his father, Matiop, and Samira, his new stepmother. As Angok tried to make himself comfortable in his new home, Juach would sent the two boys to Werkou Cattle Camp in Jonglei Province, as it was the Dinka custom of that era. Young boys coming of age were expected to go through this mentoring process in order for them to pick up some valuable independent life skills. The boys having known the city life in their short lives, were now going to test their strengths against the natural world and against themselves. First, while they have known to live in houses all their life, now they were sleeping in the open and that meant going head to head with mosquitoes all night long; thwarting off fleas all day; and manning up against the rain whenever it decided to visit them. Second, whereas they were used to a healthy diet in the city, now they had to test themselves against the diet mainly composed of milk, fish, sorghum, and millet. This second test would prove to be the hardest thing they had ever faced in their entire lives thus far. It took them two gruesome weeks to be free of diarrheal infections. Everyone thought they would never survive that ordeal, but they put up a relentless fight to prove their doubters wrong.
As they began to settle in nicely with the lads, the unexpected happened: The Sudanese government’s reinforcement troops who were passing in the area, going in the direction of the town of Bor, started launching artillery into their cattle camp; four years earlier the Sudanese People Liberation Army/Movement – mainly opposition forces of the Southern Sudanese people who took up arms in rebellion against the discriminatory marginalizing policies of the Northern-affiliated government. Now as bullets and mortars had replaced mosquitoes and fleas as the only flying bodies in the air, everyone ran for their dear life. Not before long, the boys would find themselves being joined by other straying boys who were also fleeing the destruction of their villages and homes because Southern Sudan had automatically become a war zone. Their numbers were swelling up in their thousands, and their ultimate destination: Pinyudo Refugee Camp in Ethiopia. Unlike Werkou Cattle Camp, they left behind two months earlier, here, they were left to fend for themselves; there were no guidance mentors to show them quite a few tricks here and there. Food rations came every four months; this meant, they would ran out of the rations two months before the next round of the food dispensation came up. The only people they looked up for salvation was their Southern Sudanese Opposition Forces (the SPLA), they were in a league with. In three years between 1987 to 1990, the SPLA was triumphantly gaining ground in Sudan, capturing eleven towns to the dismay of the Khartoum government who wrote them off as just hordes of unorganized militia, who would fell into disarray sooner or later. Once the SPLA liberated a town, they would bring in captured booty to the camp: food, clothes, you name it, anything valuable to support their always needy friend “life.”
In the first few months of 1991, the Ethiopian government would be overthrown by Tigray Liberation Forces, which SPLA didn’t have any affiliation with whatsoever; so the camp was emptied to look for new alliances elsewhere. The boys would set out again, along with their camaraderie band of brothers dubbed the “Lost Boys of Sudan,” back to Sudan, stopping sporadically at places such as Pochalla, Magoth, and Narus, before trekking to Kakuma Refugee Camp in Kenya. In Kakuma, if anything, life would hit down low into the deepest layers of the abyss. Yes, they were given food rations by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), which was supposed to last a month. But these rations would barely last fifteen days; so they had to be shrewdly extra careful to avoid starvation. There was no SPLA to dispense them their exploits. There was absolutely no one to turn to. The regional governments in the Eastern African block were stretched thin catering to the needs of their constitutional citizens. Droughts and famines were occasional battles to stay vigilant of. Turkana, the natives in the region, occasionally came at night armed with their rifles to pillage the camp, worsening the hunger crisis. And combined these with the hot temperatures which made them felt as if it was frying their brains in the cauldron. Centuries of inhospitable semi-aid climatic conditions had turned Kakuma into uncultivable land. Even if there were abundant of crops to farm, the slippery sandy soil and scarcity of water wouldn’t allowed the endeavor to take place. Amid the deplorable inhumane circumstances they were facing, the boys would turn to education to relief themselves of their life frustrations. It was in Kakuma that their academic pursuits started to take shape. They would keep on progressing up to the sophomore year in secondary school. A decade earlier, in the late 1980s in Pinyudo, they had started their elementary school going all the way to second grade.
The boys would put up with these deplorable inhospitable conditions for eight more years, before they were airlifted by the United States Department of State in 2001. Angok and Matiop have been living together since their first encounter in 1986. They have had some good times, and some unforgettable times. Had they not been living side by side, they would not have reached this far. Memories are abound in their past. Thinking of one memory to generalize all their memories would do less justice to their harmonious relationship. Over the years, they had grown closer and became more than brothers; yes, it is true, they had different mothers, but what forced them to meet in the first place was the blood of their father which flow in their veins. One would think of one memory and there they are fighting together for their dear lives, for example, what about that time when they were fleeing the Tigray Liberation Forces, and they were forced to cross the Gilo River, just before arriving in the Sudan? Didn’t they stay close to each other to form extra cushion to avoid being swept away by the current, and to intimidate hungry crocodiles who were mauling away those who were so unfortunate? And that time in Pochalla, when food droppings from the airplanes were barely enough to go around for everyone? Didn’t they share the few scraps they had to see another day? They have had a good relationship up until now.
For the last three years, Angok often found himself with few alternatives to finance his education. His financial aid, a federal assistance from the US government for low income students, garners him to receive federal grants and student loans. Even with his own personal scholarships added to the fold, he is always clutching for outside help to cover all financial expenses. His annual’s total cost of attendance comes to 37 K. His financial aid and personal scholarships add up to cover about 25 K of the total. He also works part-time as an office assistant at Kim & Kim Certified Public Accountants (CPA), Inc. Once again, his office assistantship only covers about 9 K annually. This dilemma forced him to become a client at Spherion Clinical Trials three years prior. Here, they test new drugs on humans before they are readied for public consumption. He is summoned to come to Spherion once every two weeks. Angok had thus been successful in taking no risks with these drugs. One could say that lady good luck played its part in thwarting off danger from him. The reason for his successful evasion to actually participate in taking drugs was the procedure itself. The procedure only involved in finding their effects in urine. So, once he was given the drugs, he came right back home and trashed most of them, leaving only a scant portion of the drug in question. Then, on the day of the testing, he would take his scant portion of the drug, numbering only about two or three pills or tablets, to the office. He had to be extra careful with this too: he would hide these pills in the internal pockets of his pants. They used to ask him to empty his external pockets before testing. These internal pockets were only accessible by opening the zipper. He went to the tailor to have these pockets patched inside his trousers especially for this purpose. The drugs came in liquid, powdered, or tablet form. Once inside the testing room, and if it were a liquid, he would just mix the liquid with urine; and if it were in powdered or tablet form, he would ground it, put it on a thick clothing, pour the water into it, and let the water sieve into urine, leaving the solid powdered portion sitting on the clothing. This methodical process had been all easy and fun up until last week when they switched the testing for effects from urine to saliva.
One would default him for the ill effect that is about to happen to him, for he could have thwarted the danger away from him had he been in his right mind. But he wasn’t. He could have produced the right amount of saliva without putting himself in harm’s way by avoiding in putting the drug in his mouth, mixed it up with whatever drug he had, and there he could have gotten the right effect of the drug. The name of the drug on the pill bottle read: Mexir. A drug to be prescribed to those experiencing hair loss. Right after he was asked to come to the office, he took the pill, put it in his mouth, took about two minutes to let the pill dissolved juicily in his mouth, spat the little bugger out, and then took the testing sample. In the process, he just doesn’t remember how much of the pill he swallowed. On Wednesday, this week, the effects started to kick in. He began to feel constant headaches, slight fevers, and he was also sweating a lot every few hours in his sleep. By Friday, his hair began to change to dark red. By Sunday, it had settled to just plain brown. It was Sunday morning when the boys began to gather in front of the television set in their apartment in the Spokane Valley. The game was between Chelsea and Arsenal. Chelsea has been riding high since their Russian’s sugar daddy, Roman Abramovich, started pumping millions into the club in 2003. It has been the grandest stage for big stars to come and showcase their talents. For this game, Chelsea had Eden Hazard, Cesc Fabregas, John Terry, and Didier Drogba. Arsenal, on the other hand, had only Mesut Ozil. Arsenal played beautifully, but Chelsea’s big guns sealed the fate of the game. The match ended 2 – 0 in Chelsea’s favor.
After the game, the boys continued their conversation for a few more hours. Angok, who is a devoted Chelsea fan was now brimming with pride of Chelsea victory over Arsenal. Matiop, who was on the losing end of the stick this time around is a committed Arsenal fan. His fanhood spanned over two decades longer than Angok’s. Arsenal and Manchester United used to be the top two franchising clubs in the Premier League in the 1990s up until the early 2000s. Perhaps the reason why Matiop had stood around rooting for Arsenal for far too long is because of its history. It is not that Angok is not a big football fan, contrary to that, it was just that after moving to the United States in the early 2000s, he started receiving few football matches on Television. The reason? Football is not a popular sport in the US. However, he started picking up on the game after the 2006 World Cup fever started kicking in. The conversation began quite remarkably well as it is always known that victory add more weight to any event. Angok started rattling off by saying, “Bro, you see, how Chelsea owned Arsenal, man, your team need some work! The days when Arsenal used to be the top guns in the Premier are long gone.” Instead of congratulating the victors, Matiop asked “Since when did Orangutans know how to play football?” referring to the brown coloring of his hair. “Come again, what was that?” Angok asked. “You have heard what I said, Matiop replied. “I said, “Orangutans don’t know how to play football.” “Okay, let me get this straight, I have suddenly become an Orangutan after I received a slight coloring on my hair.” “Matiop, what has suddenly gotten into you?” Angok asked. The conversation continued for several hours without anyone backing down. Angok, upon realizing that he had some class projects he direly need to work on, asked, “Dude, do you mind to turn the volume down just a little bit, I have a few projects to go to battle with?” “Why do I have to do all of that? Matiop shot back. Besides, Orangutans don’t have the brains to design buildings, roads, and bridges. Their main preoccupation is to build their nests up the branches of the rainforest,” he continued. Angok in turn responded by, “Piecing together all the pieces of this clashing standoff, what I have realize is this: You have resorted in thinking that the color of my hair gives you a fair advantage over me because it is an area you have seen I have a weakness with. And because it is something you can’t identify with, it is all of a sudden a psychological weapon you think you can use to lower my confidence.” “It is a free world, you are entitled to think what you want. But facts are facts. Orangutans belong in the Jungle. They don’t mix with people. Spokane is far away from the rainforests of Asia and South America” Matiop responded in kind. Having realized this conservation was going nowhere, Angok stood up and said, “We have pour our hearts out and we are still not making any progress. I am going to leave you in peace, it seems I was trespassing on your marked territory. I feel sorry for your sudden change of opinions about me.” Having said that, he headed straight to his room, packed all his belongings and move to Hillyard, another Spokane neighborhood located in the eastern part of the city. He left Matiop watching HBO “Game of Throne.”
Angok was now midway through his fourth year. He didn’t become too depressed after his brother suddenly turned against him. He knew he was a responsible chap, capable of keeping his things straighten up. All the worries of him turning to a degenerating person was unheard of. Every once in a while, he kept thinking about what always makes people to use other people’s differences as a psychological warfare. He concluded that there is no easy fix to dehumanization tactics. In the world, and in every society, in particular, there are always good and bad people. But the line is blurred between good and bad people when it comes to competition for resources. Take, for example, Matiop, who had never said any derogatory remark to Angok before the Sunday game; all of a sudden after finding himself on the losing end of the stick, he raucously became defensive and used whatever means he had to make sure he stayed on a square level with Angok.
The boys didn’t stay in touch after Angok rushed out of their shared apartment. They never heard from their parents after leaving them in Juba in 1986. The boys didn’t expect much from that city anyway since it was under the Khartoum government until 2005. The Sudanese government was fond of committing many heinous crimes against the Southern Sudanese. Angok, on the other hand, continued visiting Spherion until the eve of his graduation. One year later, he was free of the brown coloration in his hair.
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