These Colors Were Not Allowed To Run

Guor Marial, who we have all seen running in the global Visa television commercials narrated by Morgan Freeman promoting the Olympics, had been told by the International Olympic Committee that he was barred from representing his country of Southern Sudan and that he must run under the flag of the nation of his oppressors. I could not believe my eyes as I read this in the news. I thought, Who in what alternate universe demands that of someone?

I asked King today what he thought. He said, "This is shocking news for me as a King when I heard that my countryman and fellow Lost Boy Guor Marial is now known to the world as an athlete without a country. The world knows that Southern Sudan became an independent country in its own right on July 9, 2011, the newest country, 193rd in the world I believe. For me as King, I disagree with the decision of the IOC who disgraces my brother Guor Marial as runner now without a country. He is from Southern Sudan and he must carry his country flag.

I have seen first-hand the pride King and his People have as they state proudly that they carry an I.D. card proclaiming they are from Southern Sudan. In fact, I have it on film. I can't imagine the devastation Guor must feel today as the Olympics commence. He escaped genocide and ran for his life for safety in the hope of one day returning to a country at peace. He prepared his entire life to be an Olympian but more importantly he prepared to represent his country.

The levels of "losthood" are ever-present in their daily lives, like a wave that knocks you down over and over trying to force you under. But to paraphrase Maya Angelou, Slowly they rise. I marvel each day as King has a singleminded belief that one day Southern Sudan will be at peace. He has complete trust and faith in God in his every waking moment and a postive disposition that is infectious. Each day my King calls me to impart words of wisdom and hope. He bolsters my spirit and can hear when I am questioning the universe.

But in the end, he was pragmatic. King continued to say, "Today Guor had no choice. There was no way he could represent those that ran him out of his homeland but we will keep the faith that the world will do better tomorrow. For Guar runs as a free man with his brothers and sisters in his heart. And for the land in our hearts, these colors were not allowed to run."

South Sudan not eligible to compete in the London Olympic Games under IOC rules. (AFP) http://t.co/41leeXyJ

The Road to Independence is Paved with Children

On July 4^th, King called to wish me Happy Independence Day. I asked him how he was going to spend the day and if he would see some fireworks at night. He said, like he always does, that he loves America and is so grateful for his life here in safety, but that fireworks are no good for him; the sound of them exploding takes him back to the days of his childhood when he was running for his life and he preferred to celebrate in his heart in a peaceful manner.

Then on July 8^th, I celebrated with King Deng and his community their first anniversary of Southern Sudan’s Independence from Northern Sudan. Southern Sudan became the newest nation on our planet on July 9^th, 2011. His People gathered to commemorate this occasion with native traditions, music and food. As I was greeted by his warm and welcoming countrymen and women, I was struck by the thought: what would my life look like as an adult if at the age of seven I was severed from my parents, culture and country in an instant running from bullets and bombs like they were? If I survived the trek through the sweltering Sahara and endless years held captive with other children in refugee camps eating rations of rice, what heritage would I have to pass on to my children?

The answer to that question for me would be almost nothing. I would not be well-versed in my traditions, holidays, food, music, and 20-30 years later, distant memories would be washed away from the ebb and flow of time. I would be struggling by now to remember my father’s face, the smell of my mother’s hair, the gentle touch of my grandmother tucking me in at night, the sound of their voices echoing in my mind. How do you maintain your history when it was ripped out from under you? Not a single treasure to carry with you to trigger your memory or comfort you.

When the event was in full swing, for an etheral moment I stood frozen in time in the center of the 200 tribal people surrounding me. I slowly turned in a 360 degree pan to see the only physical reminders they took with them were their scars. Some of the individuals who were probably around 11 when they fled had tribal markings on their faces indicating their beginning of manhood or womanhood. But the others too had scars--deeply gauged skin from bullets, shrapnel or knives; eye injuries (eyes partially or fully closed). Some limping. Some walking with a cane. And then there were those who had injuries from trauma who were not quite right who were acting a little off kilter. Their tribemates were especially gentle and caring to them. I marveled at the clearly visible tightknit brotherhood and sisterhood they have.

I shifted my gaze to their children. They not like their parents. They are steeped in Americana—their clothes, their toys, their sense of culture--with little sense of the significance of this day. They had not experienced the devastating hardships of their parents, and thank God for that. These children may never see the country that is their birthright because fighting over the rich oil resources in the land their parents call home has not ended a generation later. History is repeating itself. Their villages are being ransacked. Each day 1,000 orphaned children trek to refugee camps with grass in their tummies, dehydrated with no end in sight creating a new generation of Lost Boys and Lost Girls. I see their future. They are here standing 200 strong all around me.

King took centerstage to address his People and I brought my attention to his message: "Today is a celebration but we must continue to stand up for our country. We cannot be silent as our children continue to suffer and are thrust from their culture. Every day there are more Lost Boys and Girls. If 20 years from now they are in the same position we are in today, what will we have accomplished? I pray for peace in Southern Sudan and for the world. We are all sisters and brothers and the fighting must stop. 2 million of our people have died and thousands of children orphaned. When will it be enough?"

King and his People strive relentlessly each day to help one another keep their memories alive, to carry on their traditions, to speak their many languages to maintain their culture in exile. Together my King and I are telling his story and the story of his People for the world to know. And for the children, all the Lost Boys and Girls, I want to give them a window to their past that connects them to their history to share with their children and their children's children. I want to take them on King’s journey so they can see with their own eyes where they came from and how they got here. How else can you move forward as a cohesive People? That is why it is so important for King to return to his village in Southern Sudan to come full circle, to connect their past, present and future. I plan to capture every moment on film. I invite you to follow us....

From Dusk Until (Will There Ever Really Be a) Dawn

Tonight we did a shoot at dusk for the film. As the sun was setting, we gathered by a river. After setting up the camera, sound checks and getting the lighting just right, King stood at water's edge and spontaneously started singing one of his native tribal songs. The birds were chirping in concert with him; the buzzing of the mosquitos and trickling of the water his percussion. Great joy swept across his face as he sang the words in his native language with pride. But in an instant, as he continued to chant, I could see the devastation of his People wash over him. He was immediately transported back in time. He wept from the depth of his soul for the father and mother he lost, for the senseless murder of his People, and so much more. The abysmal pain of a lifetime of tragedies gripped him.

For a filmmaker to capture this type of unscripted, organic moment is a dream shot, one that inspires them to start writing award acceptance speeches. With cameras rolling, I held myself back as long as I could, my own tears flowing. Then as he knelt down overcome by the memories that flooded his mind sobbing a generation of tears, I could not bear to let him cry alone. I entered the shot, knelt down with him and we sobbed together in silence. I felt his pain. I closed my eyes and saw him running for his life as a boy, starving in the desert sun, watching his tribe members being eaten alive by hyenas and lions. I heard the sound of bombs in my head.

I then stood up and let King have his own time to come back to the present and I did the same. I looked around at the idyllic setting in the wilderness and felt that we were in God's presence. He said he has always felt the presence of God in his life. That even in the darkest moments, he felt he was walking with God. I said my own silent prayer in this moment and asked for Him to hear King's prayers for this second generation of Lost Boys and Girls of Sudan to be spared the atrocities he and his tribemates endured.

The sun was going over the horizon. We were losing natural light. We had to set up our next shot... It is hard to be the person who takes King and his people back to those bad places in their past. If you were sitting with a friend at Starbuck's you would not be incessantly asking them to bring you into the most painful moments of their life. But King acknowledges that I go with them on that journey each and every time and says, "Valerie, it is okay. We have to tell our story. There is no other way to do this. We all understand."


A filmmaker is not a trauma therapist. In this situation for this project, I am the vessel for King's voice and he is the voice of his people. Filmmakers can sometimes work on more than one project at a time that are in various stages of development and I am no different. The switch-up is jarring for me. Today I go from genocide in Southern Sudan to espionage and romance in Europe. Calling in a trauma therapist doesn't sound like a bad idea because you have to be equally present for both.

No matter what I am ever going through as trite or important it may be, King is always there to provide support, inspiration and ancestral wisdom. He has a keen intuition and can cut through all the little details to get to clarity. No matter what his people have been put through, King sees the dawn. He has a love for humanity and a hopefulness that we will wake up...that there will someday be peace in Southern Sudan.