Refugee's voice may be lost

The fifth-graders' eyes were wide as saucers as Malakal Goak explained his barefooted escape through a jungle and the young daughters he left on another continent.

And they were hearing the mild version of his life during Sudan's civil war.

Certain details — including his own physical torture and the prisoners he watched get axed to death — would be reserved for more mature audiences.

Whether it be in mild or blunt fashion, Goak, a local southern Sudanese leader and social worker, has been educating Omahans about his native country and the impact of its 22-year civil war since he arrived here six years ago.

How much longer Goak's voice will be heard locally is uncertain. A hearing Friday in Omaha's Immigration Court will examine his request to stay in the U.S. under political asylum.

(Unlike most of his countrymen resettled in the Midwest, Goak is not considered a refugee. That legal classification is bestowed while one is outside the U.S.)

Goak applied for political asylum after he arrived in Omaha in 2003.

Complicating his case is that Goak traveled here with an Ethiopian passport, said his attorney Robert Dorton.

Goak insists that he is from the Nuer Tribe of southern Sudan and that he obtained the fake Ethiopian passport for safety reasons — so he could travel without the threat of being returned to Sudanese officials who he believed would harm him.

Federal officials declined to comment on a pending asylum application.

But Dorton said that U.S. immigration officials have alleged that Goak has a legal status in Ethiopia and could be returned there. Dorton said he has no such status.

Asylum is considered a discretionary U.S. benefit, Dorton said, so Goak's testimony of persecution and fear of returning to Africa must be compelling.

“This is something I never imagined,” Goak said of his legal battle. “I have suffered enough.”

Unable to travel while his case is unresolved, Goak hasn't seen his family in Nairobi, Kenya, since 2003.

As was the case with the fifth-graders at District 66's Hillside Elementary School, Goak meanwhile has won respect of many he has met.

Kimberly Thomas of Lutheran Family Services calls Goak a “pillar in his community” and an invaluable resource to service-providers.

She's among local supporters who have attended Goak's previous hearings and is following the case.

His personal insight, Thomas said, has offered Nebraskans a deeper understanding of the plight that pushed so many refugees to metropolitan Omaha — which has one of if not the largest population of Sudanese refugees in the country.

Goak's been-there perspective also has upped his credibility among refugees who are more inclined to accept his advice on touchy cultural issues.

As founder of the nonprofit Caring People Sudan, Goak also provides assistance with transportation and other needs. He also formed the Sudanese American Network for the Advancement of the Democracy in Sudan (SANADS).

A note from a student at Ackerman Elementary in Millard sits on Goak's desk: “Thanks for coming to our classroom. I'm so sorry that you had to be tortured. My grandpa was in the Vietnam War.”

Said another fourth-grader: “I hope you get to see your family soon.”

Goak's story began 37 years ago when he was born in the Sudanese city of Malakal (thus, his name).

He graduated from college in Ethiopia in the late 1990s and returned to Sudan, where a civil war raged that would kill and displace millions before the 2005 signing of a peace accord between the north and the south.

Upon his return to Sudan, Goak, then about 27, worked for a government official who oversaw the distribution of international aid to “internal displaced persons.” The two clashed when Goak questioned the boss's order to redirect a shipment of food meant for displaced persons to the public defense force.

Goak said he was accused of being an “enemy” who aligned with the rebel Sudan People's Liberation Army/Movement, and he was sent home.

That night, Goak said, a carload of military representatives whisked him away from his family to be interrogated about his allegiances. He said he was punched and attached to a machine that spun him into unconsciousness.

Later, at a bunker in the city of Juba, he and prisoners of war were forced to watch men be beaten and axed. He said he had to haul bodies to a grave.

After a few weeks in captivity, an armed soldier took Goak and another man outside to urinate. It was dark.

Goak ran into the jungle. The other prisoner followed.

Shots rang out.

Goak never again saw the other prisoner, but he heard a land mine explode and suspects that the man was killed.

“I was running, running, running until I reached a village,” he said.

His bare feet bloodied and his body in stress, Goak was hospitalized for three months in a Red Cross facility outside Sudan. There, he met a nurse whom he would later marry.

A recovered Goak declared his allegiance to the rebels, formed a nonprofit human rights group in Nairobi and told local publications of atrocities in neighboring Sudan.

In 2003, Goak was chosen to travel to the Midwest to speak at a conference about Sudan. One stop was in Omaha.

Goak and his wife decided before he left Kenya that he was not going back. He believed Sudanese government officials were tracking him then and now.

Six years into his asylum battle, Goak has had three lawyers and $7,000 in expenses.

Perhaps the worst part, the 6-foot-2 guest speaker told the 15 Hillside students, is the distance from his family, who cannot join him unless he wins his case.

Wife Bukune was pregnant with their youngest daughter when he left, so he never got to see Nyamal. Older daughter Nyanpal is 7.

He urged the Hillside kids to extend a hand to young refugees. He said they have had setbacks that will keep some from ever catching up in school.

Asked about the six scar lines across his forehead, Goak explained that he was cut at age 13 in a traditional rite of passage to manhood ceremony. Yes, he said, it was painful.

The scar on his cheek and his puffy lip are the result of a childhood accident, not the war.

Most questions, though, focused on his kids. Do you write to them? Do you have photos?

One student wanted to know how the class would know if Goak was granted the right to stay.

If his story has a happy ending, Goak said, he would be back to tell them in person.

Contact the writer:

444-1224, cindy.gonzalez@owh.com

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