GER DUANY: My Transformation in the United States

The opportunity to live in the United States represented a new beginning for me.

Being a refugee was hard. Everything was unfamiliar—the food, mannerisms, infrastructure, geography, culture. I had run away from my environment and everything that I knew to seek refuge in someone else’s.

I had lost my way of life; my values were challenged.  I paid with my soul to follow new dreams. I had become an immigrant, cut off from my way of knowing how to do things. Still, I was eager to learn, adapt and integrate.

Naturally, I had my share of struggles—some linked to horrible memories of war and death that continued to haunt me and others related to adapting to a new life in America. Whenever I hear of people who are in trouble with the law, have dropped out of school, or have in any way not been able to take positive advantage of opportunities, I am reminded of the many times when I could have fallen by the wayside.

I was fortunate to eventually find myself in a supportive family setting, embraced as a son and sibling by my Uncle, Aunt and my cousins. Thanks to them I was anchored in a safe and compassionate space, which gave me the grounding I needed to find my feet.

My achievements in sports and in the classroom helped to transform the way I saw and thought of myself, opening my eyes and my mind to realms of possibilities that I could not have imagined amid the violence that characterized my early adolescence.

I’ll never forget the journey from Dadaab’s Ifo refugee camp.

The butterflies in my stomach were in a frenzy on the road trip to Nairobi and later on the flight to Des Moines, Iowa. It was like a fantasy—Ger the village boy airborne for the United States of America! I would not have been surprised to wake up and find myself still in a refugee camp!

The airplane cabin was just like the inside of a bus. The running water in the lavatory were new to me. So was having a full tray of food all to myself. I was used to sharing a tray of beans and maybe a mixture of rice and flour with my comrades while seated on the ground in a circle.

It wasn’t until the plane landed and I set my feet firmly on the soil on Des Moines that it finally sank that Africa was left behind me.

My new journey was very long and there was so much for me to learn including through failure.

My former campmates showed off their cars—they actually owned cars! Later I learned they had chosen credit. They spoke fluent English. It seemed like a remarkable feat! And oh, I’ll never forget my first shower. I couldn’t figure how to balance the flow of cold and hot water. It got warmer and warmer, then scalded my back. I screamed and rushed out of the bathroom. I thought I’d broken the tap. The pain was excruciating, but I kept it a secret until years later.

I tried hard to forget the ordeals I experienced before coming to the United States. For the longest time I did not talk about them. I did not think anyone would relate to my experiences on the frontline and in refugee camps.

Words cannot express how indebted I am to my Uncle Wal, Aunt Julia and my cousins. They embraced me as a son and sibling, and provided a safe and compassionate family setting that gave me the grounding I needed to find my feet.

I was nervous. What if he turned me away? He did not know me. I only knew of him as a prominent politician in Sudan. I was one of his younger brother, Thabach Duany’s sixty kids.

“Take him back to where you found him!” my irate Uncle yelled at the driver. Clueless about the transport system, I had ridden a cab from Indianapolis. I couldn’t even pronounce Bloomington, the name of the place where my Uncle had lived his family since 1984. All I had was an address written on a piece of paper by a friend who looked up to my Uncle as a scholar, and the determination to see my relatives.

The fare was something like $100. I had no idea about the value of the US dollar. Where I came from, we placed value on our cattle. Perhaps the cab driver had hoped to take advantage of my naivité or he thought simply that I was fair game. Suffice it to say, he agreed to a reduced fare.

I was welcomed warmly. I got the room my cousin Duany Duany was vacating as he headed to University in Wisconsin on a basketball scholarship. I became one of the family with my Uncle Wal, Aunt Julia and cousins Kueth, Nok, Nyagon and Bill.

With my family’s support I learned to become a boy all over again which enabled me to spread my wings.

 

My cousins had lived in Bloomington pretty much all of their lives. All they knew was basketball; all I knew was warfare. I didn’t think they would relate to my experiences in conflict and in refugee camps. I tried hard to forget that chapter of my life.

Sometimes I felt lost and alienated but I didn’t tell anyone about the ordeals I had been through. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell Aunt Julia why I felt exasperated when she encouraged me to join the United States Army.

So much from my past was bottled up inside. Pent up fears and often anger would surge through my being like volcanic lava, needing to explode. I realized that such emotions could only be destructive. I knew instinctively I could not survive if I allowed my rage to get the better of me. So I learned to listen, and to pay attention to very small things. I thank the universe for that intuition. Time took care of me; it carried me a long way, and life continues to happen.

When I graduated from high school, I was overjoyed. Something stirred inside of me. I started to recognize a strength I had not known. There was much more to me than I had ever seen in myself. I was awakening to a new perception that there was much more to me than the ordeals of my childhood. I thought, “I’m not a war victim anymore”. It lit up my world.

I thought how proud my mother and father would be. Memories swam in my head of running, stealing and getting shot at in the long grass of Anuak villages. I wondered, ‘What if I had not gone through it? Would I ever have graduated from high school in Indiana?’

In my new state of self-awareness I became hopeful for the future.

I graduated with a basketball scholarship to Lake Land College and L.A Southwest College. The Hoops dream in America unfolded before me as I signed the intent letter.

I did well at Lake Land College, even helping the team win a state championship in L.A. Southwest College. After finishing my associate’s degree, I earned another basketball scholarship to the University of Bridgeport in Connecticut. It was a new chapter of my life.

I capitalized on the opportunity and worked hard to obtain a Bachelor Degree in Department Human Resources, Specialized in Human Services.

 

This picture from my first photo shoot was taken by New York fashion photographer Norman Watson and published in the September 2005 issue of Fader Magazine.

The ups and downs of my life experience had given me the gift of adaptability. I had found stability and grown as a person in my new homeland.

My entry into the film and fashion industry was fortuitous.