I was born into Sudan's civil war, and before I could read or
I was born into Sudan's civil war, and before I could read or write, I was using an AK47 in the conflict between the Muslim north and Animist/Christian south over the land and natural resources.
Ger Duany, a man who rose from ashes to become a voice of hope, once spoke with haunting simplicity: “I was born into Sudan's civil war, and before I could read or write, I was using an AK47 in the conflict between the Muslim north and Animist/Christian south over the land and natural resources.” These words strike the heart like iron upon stone. They reveal the fate of a child robbed of childhood, thrust into the furnace of hatred before he could even shape the letters of his own name. His testimony is not only personal—it is a mirror of countless lives broken by war, a witness to how nations tear apart their own children when greed and division triumph over peace.
The origin of this statement lies in the long and bitter struggle of Sudan, where for decades the north and south were torn by war. This conflict was not only about faith—Muslim and Christian, Animist and Arab—it was also about the wealth of the land, about oil, water, and resources coveted by the powerful. In such wars, the innocent suffer first. Villages were burned, families scattered, and children were seized from their homes, pressed into service as soldiers long before their hands could hold pens or books. Duany himself was one of the “Lost Boys of Sudan,” driven from his homeland, wandering across deserts, fleeing death, and carrying scars no child should bear.
The meaning of his words is clear: war devours the future by consuming the young. When a boy should be learning letters, he is instead taught the weight of a rifle. When he should be playing in fields, he is trained to fight for land he does not own, for causes he cannot yet understand. Duany’s life reveals the greatest crime of civil war: it transforms the most innocent into instruments of violence. In this way, war does not merely kill—it steals generations.
History offers many echoes of this tragedy. Consider the child soldiers of Sierra Leone, forced to fight in brutal conflicts of the 1990s. Like Duany, many were taken before they could read, drugged or beaten into obedience, taught to kill instead of to dream. Or remember the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia, where children were trained as soldiers and executioners, their childhood erased by ideology and blood. In every age, when societies surrender to division, it is the young who bear the heaviest chains.
Yet from this abyss, Duany’s story also offers light. Having escaped the violence, he rebuilt his life, finding refuge in America, where he became not only an actor and model but an advocate for peace. He transformed his pain into testimony, speaking for those whose voices were silenced. His journey shows that even those forged in war can rise to become messengers of hope, that scars can be turned into wisdom, and that a life nearly destroyed can yet inspire countless others.
The lesson for us is this: never allow the suffering of children to be hidden or forgotten. A nation that sends its young to war plants seeds of endless sorrow. Likewise, in our own lives, when conflict arises, we must guard the innocent, shield the vulnerable, and remember that every act of violence against the weak is an act of violence against the future itself. Duany’s story calls us to see beyond politics, beyond religion, beyond greed, and to hear the cries of those who pay the price in blood.
Practical wisdom demands that we act. Support those who work to disarm child soldiers, who provide education, food, and healing to those scarred by war. In your own communities, defend children from cycles of violence, whether on the battlefield or in the home. Teach the young peace before they are taught hatred. For every child rescued from violence is a future preserved, a hope rekindled, a nation saved from repeating its darkest tragedies.
Thus, let Duany’s words stand as both wound and warning: a child with an AK47 is proof of a world that has lost its way. But a child given a book, a place of safety, and a dream is proof of a world finding the path again. Remember this, children of tomorrow: protect the young, for in them lies the destiny of nations.
QDQue Duong
This quote highlights the tragic intersection of war, resources, and childhood. Duany’s experience illustrates how systemic violence robs children of fundamental human rights and education. It raises complex questions: how do we hold responsible actors accountable for recruiting children, and how do societies break cycles of intergenerational trauma? Can storytelling and personal narratives like Duany’s contribute to global awareness and prevention, or is structural intervention necessary to stop such practices?
N'Vic nhat nheo '-'
As a reader, I am struck by the loss of innocence and the normalization of violence in Duany’s early life. It prompts a broader question about how conflicts rooted in religion, ethnicity, and resources systematically exploit children. What long-term impact does growing up in such an environment have on identity, trust, and mental health? And how can humanitarian efforts address these deep-seated traumas while rebuilding peaceful communities?
AKTran Anh Khoi
This statement is shocking and heart-wrenching. It forces reflection on the ways in which resources and power struggles can devastate innocent lives. Ger Duany’s experience makes me question how international bodies and governments can intervene to prevent child recruitment in warzones. Are current measures against the use of child soldiers effective, or is more urgent global action required to protect the most vulnerable populations?
-836- Uyen Vy - 81
Reading this, I feel a deep sense of horror and empathy. Being forced to use a weapon as a child highlights the brutal reality of child soldiers and the human cost of prolonged conflict. It makes me wonder about the psychological and social consequences for children who are thrust into war before they even understand literacy or basic education. How can societies rehabilitate and reintegrate such children after such trauma?