Not yet out of Africa

When she tucks her daughters into bed at night, Akout Agang’s thoughts also drift to another child.

She wonders about Eliow – her firstborn, her only son, the little boy she was forced to leave behind.

Now 11, Eliow continues to wait in Sudan, the war-torn country that Akout and her husband, Georges, once called home. It has been more than eight years since the boy said goodbye to his mother; 10 years since he last saw his father.

The sad, frustrating story of this family’s attempt to bring their son to Spokane was reported by The Spokesman-Review in January. At the time, Georges and Akout had just received good news: After failed attempts to send a DNA kit to Khartoum, one made it to Eliow and was returned to the U.S. State Department. The kit provided the evidence that the boy is indeed their son.

But their hopes have been dashed since then.

Georges and Akout’s life together began more than a decade ago in a crowded camp outside the capital of Khartoum. Fleeing poverty and persecution – their fellow Dinka tribesmen and other Sudanese faced abduction, enslavement, torture and killings – the couple traveled separately to Syria and then into Lebanon.

When he fled in 1996, Georges couldn’t take his wife and son along. Akout was able to join him in Lebanon two years later, but it was too dangerous to travel with a toddler. So Eliow stayed behind with his grandmother, who promised to care for the boy until he could be reunited with his mom and dad.

They didn’t expect it to take this long.

Three years ago, the United Nations gave Georges, Akout and other Sudanese refugees the chance to seek asylum in the United States. World Relief, a resettlement agency, helped them move to Spokane in the winter of 2003. For several months, they lived with Jack and Cheryl Lewis, who have assisted the couple in their efforts to bring Eliow to Spokane. The church they attend, Valley Fourth Memorial, and others in the community have raised nearly $6,500 to pay for the DNA kits and other anticipated costs to fly the boy to the United States.

Besides Eliow, Georges and Akout now have three more children – 5-year-old Akone and 3-year-old Nebol were born in Beirut; their youngest, daughter Adio, was born more than a year ago at Deaconess Medical Center. The family is grateful for the opportunity to start over in Spokane, said Georges, who now has a full-time job as a factory worker at Scafco Corp.

But they long to have Eliow in their life again.

The family thought it was actually going to happen this fall. In late October, one of Eliow’s uncles in Khartoum called Georges to tell him that they heard from an embassy official who told them a visa was on its way.

But the visa never arrived. When the Lewises contacted the State Department on Nov. 15, they learned that they had to start the process all over because Eliow’s case record had never been updated.

Georges and Akout didn’t know what to tell their son.

“Am I coming tomorrow?” the boy asked his mother during a recent conversation on the phone.

No, Akout said, not yet. But soon.

He burst into tears. She’s been telling him that for years.

“Common sense would say that this is a minor, and the government should let him come,” said Cheryl Lewis, who had made plans to send her two grown sons to Sudan to pick up Eliow had the visa come through. “But this is such a specific case.”

In the chaos that arises when people flee a disaster, it’s not unheard of for families to be separated. In most cases, youths under 21 with proof of identification can join their parents in the United States within six to nine months. But Eliow, like many from the Dinka tribe, wasn’t born in a hospital and has no birth certificate. Georges and Akout had only vaccination records, but those got lost along with one of the suitcases they brought to America.

The case is complicated by the fact that refugees from Sudan are resettled only after they leave their native country, explained Cheryl Lewis. So technically, Eliow is not a refugee like his parents had been when they fled Sudan. And since Georges and Akout are not U.S. citizens, they can’t return to Sudan – a country with limited U.S. consular services – to pick up their son and fly him back to Spokane.

Earlier this month, the Lewises heard from a U.S. Embassy official who explained the process Eliow and his parents still have to follow. First, the International Organization for Migration and personnel from the embassy have to authorize a complete medical exam for the boy. At the same time, a U.S. voluntary agency needs to sponsor the boy and send a request for sponsorship to the embassy. Once Eliow receives medical clearance and the embassy gets the request for sponsorship, the International Organization for Migration becomes responsible for making travel arrangements for the child.

“It feels like you’re trying to push a huge truck,” said Cheryl Lewis. It should move, but it doesn’t. Sometimes, it even rolls back.

Meanwhile, Georges and Akout continue to send about $200 a month to their relatives in Khartoum for Eliow. And Akout continues to weep each time she hears her son’s voice on the phone. She’s afraid that he’ll lose hope, that he’ll stop believing her when she tells him that they’ll be together soon.

“He says he needs to come here so he can see me and his daddy,” said Akout. “I tell him to wait.”

Then they both burst into tears.