'Lost boy' who fled Sudan tells of his 4,000-mile trek

By the age of 18 he had travelled more than 4,000 miles, crossing eight African borders without a passport - a lone boy living on his wits and depending on the kindness of strangers. Now Aher Arop Bol sells sweets and cigarettes under a railway bridge in the South African capital, Pretoria, but his adventure is not over. He has just become one of the most extraordinary authors in the history of African literature.

Arop Bol has shared his story in a unique memoir, The Lost Boy (published by Kwela Books), which offers a rare insight into the life of a child on the run from war. South Africa, which in May last year was the scene of more than 100 xenophobic killings directed at refugees such as Arop Bol, has greeted his story with fascination. Drum magazine called it an "extraordinary tale of pain, desperation and, above all, survival against all odds". The respected poet and journalist Antjie Krog said simply: "This story stays with me."

It is not hard to see why. The book's publication, and the astonishing world it opens up, is further evidence of the tenacity and desire that took a young boy across a vast continent. ''My motivation is to make money to pay my law studies which cost 27,000 rands a year [£2,000]," he said "and to get my two brothers through school. I have put them into a boarding school in Uganda."



His pride and joy are the brilliant school reports, sent from St Mary's School, Kisubi, Uganda, by Thokriel, 13, and Majok, 14. Arop Bol himself is halfway through a correspondence law course at the University of South Africa (Unisa) but can never attend lectures as he sets up shop outside Wonderboom station, Pretoria, every weekday at 4am.

His stall - a sheet of plywood, balanced on two crates and displaying boiled sweets, matches and single cigarettes - looks like any other serving commuters outside the station. But unlike the other informal traders, Arop Bol wears a suit and exhibits the seriousness and restraint of a man twice his age. "Business has gone down," he says with a sigh. "My customers are mainly the gardeners and domestics in the northern suburbs. I offer haircuts and I sometimes sell airtime. But no one has money because of the recession. I will have to find another solution soon."

The hope is that one may emerge from the public reaction to the publication of his extraordinary tale. The book is unlikely to become a bestseller, but never before has the desolate, desperate experience of the refugee children of Sudan been so authoritatively conveyed.

Full story here.