“I am honored to receive this award,” Lomong said. “It will help a lot of people to know what we are doing off of the track and the reasons why we run. I am so happy to be named the Visa Humanitarian of the Year, and a lot of kids are going to benefit from this.”

© PhotoRun

While building a career as one of the nation’s top middle distance runners, Lomong established the Lopez Lomong Foundation in the fall of 2011 in an effort to give back to his native country of the South Sudan. The foundation teamed up with World Vision to launch the 4 South Sudan campaign to provide access to clean water, offer families basic health care, give children access to education and to provide life saving nutrition.

In less than a year, Lomong raised more than $150,000 for clean water and is hoping to break the $250,000 mark by January.

Lomong has been forced to overcome great adversity. When he was only six-years-old he was taken from his family and forced to join the Peoples Liberation Army as a child soldier during the Sudanese conflicts. Lomong escaped the rebel camp and ran for three days and nights until he reached a refugee camp in Kenya.

After living in the refugee camp for 10 years, Lomong was able to move to the United States as one of the Lost Boys of Sudan and begin a new life with his adopted family in Tully, N.Y., where he joined his high school’s cross country team.

Since then Lomong won two NCAA championships at Northern Arizona and has competed for Team USA in two Olympic Games. Lomong gained fans across the country as he was selected to serve as the U.S. flag bearer at the Opening Ceremonies in Beijing.

“Through my whole journey I have said that you can’t stop, but you have to keep going and give back however you can,” said Lomong. “There are still kids going through the same things I went through, or even worse. I just want to be there to give them a hand. I want to be there to tell them that this isn’t the end, and there is hope.”

In addition to raising funds for the 4 South Sudan campaign, Lomong has worked to raise awareness among elite athletes about the needs of South Sudan. 2012 Olympians Sanya Richards-Ross, Shalane Flanagan, Kara Goucher and U.S. 50 km record holder Josh Cox have all joined in the fundraising efforts.

Lomong is currently planning a trip to return to South Sudan to work directly with the children that have benefited from his foundation. He hopes to bring other elite athletes with him on his trip to share his passion and to introduce them to the people of his native country.

“I want to bring athletes with me to show them the power that an Olympian has to inspire people and motivate them,” Lomong said.

“Lopez Lomong truly embodies what the Visa Humanitarian of the Year Award is all about and we couldn’t imagine a more deserving recipient of this honor,” said Ricardo Fort, Head of Global Sponsorship at Visa Inc.  “Faced with overwhelming suffering even at a young age, he rose above the adversity and now uses his success to help others overcome their challenges.  Lopez is a role model for athletes and an inspiration for us all.”

The Visa Humanitarian of the Year Award was established in 1997 to recognize outstanding achievements by athletes in social activities and personal commitments outside the competition arena. A

Help Lopez bring clean water, education, healthcare, and nutrition to the children of South Sudan.

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Lopez Lomong, a former child refugee, aims for 5,000m gold

“I used to run for my life, but now I’m running for joy and to inspire kids who might be refugees or in a really bad situation like I was.”

The words of American runner Lopez Lomong, a former ‘Lost Boy’ child refugee from South Sudan who will run in the 5,000m for the United States on Wednesday.

It has been a remarkable journey for the 27-year-old, who was one of thousands of child refugees who fled the civil war in Sudan in the 1980s and 1990s.

“One Sunday morning, rebels burst into our church in the village of Kimatong and tore me away from my mother’s arms,” he told the BBC.

“All our parents were begging them not to take us, but they kidnapped all the kids and took us to a training camp to become child soldiers.”

Conditions at the training camp were horrific and for food they were fed sorghum  mixed with sand.

“Many of the boys were so hungry they just ate it all,” he added. “But they couldn’t digest the sand and they would just die.”

Lomong said all the girls were separated and he does not know what happened to them.

At the tender age of six, he was too young to carry his AK47 assault rifle and faced death with the other little boys, but three older boys looked after him and one night they decided they were going to escape.

While the rebel soldiers smoked and laughed around them, they managed to crawl out of the camp unnoticed and started running.

“That was my very first race,” said Lomong. “We ran three days and nights. We thought we were heading back to our village, but instead we ended up in Kenya.”

From there he was registered as a refugee, spending the next 10 years in a camp, where life was tough and food was scarce.

For years, Lomong looked forward to Tuesday because that was rubbish day and he might be able to get some extra scraps.

“I used to run and play football to forget my hunger,” he added. “One day all the other kids started talking about the Olympics.

“I didn’t know what the Olympics were but I went with them to a richer Kenyan’s house to watch it on TV.”

There, Lomong saw Michael Johnson win yet another gold, the American 200m and 400m runner breaking down in tears on the podium.

“At first, I couldn’t understand why he was crying because he had won the race,” said Lomong. “But then I realised it was because he was running for something bigger than he was. He was running for his country.

“I knew then that I wanted to run for that same country, the United States. He was my role model from then on.”

Lomong’s dreams came true when the United States agreed to take 3,500 of Sudan’s Lost Boys as part of a government resettlement programme.

He lived with a foster family and started training in track and field. He even met Johnson, who encouraged him to go for the Olympic trials.

In 2008, he qualified for Beijing in the 1500m and carried the US flag at the opening ceremony.

But Lomong has never forgotten his roots and frequently visits South Sudan, where he has been reunited with his family.

Through his charitable foundation, 4 South Sudan, he is raising money to provide communities with clean water, education and medicine.

“I want to bring that gold medal home because I owe it to the American people who took me in,” he said.

“What I would like to see though is a female athlete carrying the flag of South Sudan in Rio 2016. That’s my dream.”

Editor’s note: African Voices is a weekly show that highlights Africa’s most engaging personalities, exploring the lives and passions of people who rarely open themselves up to the camera.

(CNN) — From escaping bullets in Sudan as a young boy to becoming a track and field Olympics star, U.S. athlete Lopez Lomong has been running and defying odds nearly all of his life.

Lomong, who carried the American flag into the 2008 Olympic Opening Ceremony in Beijing, was among the thousands of refugees known as “The Lost Boys,” victims of Sudan’s long and brutal civil war.

At the age of six, Lomong, who qualified Wednesday for the 5,000-meter final at the London Games on August 11, was separated from his family when he was kidnapped by soldiers during a Sunday morning mass in his native country. Lomong was taken along with several other children to a prison where they would be trained to become child soldiers.

“I saw kids dying every day and I would say, ‘OK, maybe next time it’s going to be me,’” remembers Lomong, 27. “That basically changed my life and from that moment I’m no longer six years old — I became an adult.”

But a few weeks later Lomong managed to escape from the prison camp with the help of three older abducted children. Barefoot but determined, Lomong and his friends went a through a hole in the prison fence and started running as fast as they could, in what Lomong describes as their “race to freedom.”

After running for three days and nights the boys finally reached Kenya, where Lomong spent the next 10 years of his life in a refugee camp.

In 2001, Lomong’s remarkable life journey took another turn. Aged 16, he was among the nearly 4,000 “Lost Boys” who were resettled in various cities across the United States as part of a U.N. and U.S. government program.

He was adopted by a family in Tully, a small town in upstate New York, where he went to high school and first started thinking of running as a career.

He became a U.S. citizen in July 2007 and one year later he made the national Olympics team, taking part in the 1,500-meter race in Beijing. Lomong didn’t make it to the finals but was honored by his fellow athletes who selected him as the as flag bearer for Team USA.

“That is the most incredible thing I take away from the Olympics,” he says. “It’s not only track and field. There are swimmers; there are wrestlers; there is everybody united and we are all walking together to bring as many medals to our country. Those are the things that I will never forget — I was very excited to be part of that and carry America’s flag into the opening ceremony.”

This week, he returns to the Olympics for the second time. This time his goal is to achieve Olympic glory.

“I want to go back to do what I didn’t do in 2008,” says Lomong, a graduate of Northern Arizona University. “I want to win the medal. Yes, I was a flag bearer in 2008; I don’t want to be a flag bearer anymore, I want to bring the medal back home.”

Determined to win a medal for his adopted country, Lomong is also focused on making a difference in South Sudan. He has established a foundation in his name to help people in his native country, focusing on four pressing issues.

“We need to be able to go back and give these people education, clean water, nutrition, medicine,” says Lomong, who also reunited with his family in South Sudan in 2007. “To live, to see another day, to think there is someone out there in the world caring for them so they can be able to pursue their dream.”

Lomong has also written a book, called “Running for My Life: One Lost Boy’s Journey from the Killing Fields of Sudan to the Olympic Games,” where he narrates his long and epic life journey.

He wants to share his inspiring story with the world so that people know where he comes from and understand why he is running.

“I want to be the one telling that story to the people who never had a voice before because there are a lot of kids out there right now that are still going through the things I went through. They are still getting kidnapped. They are still going hungry for days, they don’t have families,” he says.

“We need to be able to tell the world to stop those things and let’s educate kids instead of giving them AK-47s to go to fight. Let the kids go and play [and] do anything they need to do to be able to see their future.”

Lopez Lomong - 10th in the men’s 5,000m

 Sanya Richards Ross – GOLD in the women’s 400m and 4×400 relay, 5th in the women’s 200m

Shalane Flanagan and Kara Goucher – 10th and 11th in the marathon!

We have shared Lopez Lomong’s journey — from life as a lost boy in Sudan, to finding a new home in America, to his rise as an athlete.

In the third part of the Lopez Lomong series, Lopez shares his thoughts as he races at the 2007 NCAA 1500m championships. As he runs, Lopez reflects on the role that running has played throughout his life. Previously, running meant escaping rebel soldiers and the harsh realities of life within a refugee camp. As a student and athlete at Northern Arizona University, he dreams that running will be the key to a better life for the lost boys and the people of South Sudan.

*     *     *

“First call for the 1500,” the loudpeakers announced. I gathered my things and walked toward the start line.

Outside I put on my game face. Sunglasses on, stern look of determination on my face, I looked ready to dominate.

Inside I wore a huge grin. How could I not smile? Although this was the biggest race of my life up until this point, I did not run for my life.  I ran that race a long time ago when  I took off in the night with my three angels. We knew the rebel soldiers might open fire at any moment, which made us run even faster.

Once we arrived in Kakuma, I ran every day, not just to  play soccer but to take my mind off of my empty stomach and the harsh realities of the refugee camp. Today I ran for pure, absolute joy.  My past set me free to enjoy the present moment. I planned to enjoy it to the fullest. No man ever felt so blessed by God as I did in that moment.

“Second call, 1500 meters.”

My 11 competitors gathered near the start line. This was a strong field. Both defending the 1500 meter outdoor champion, Vincent Romo, and Leonel Manzano, the indoor 1500 champion had made the final.  Any one of a half-dozen guys could easily win this race. I had to run smart.

I looked down at my navy blue jersey and the yellow letters across my chest: Northern Arizona University. Tom Hightower had told me that this place and Coach John Hayes would take me to the Olympics, and he knew what he was talking about. But over the past couple of years it had become so much more than that.

When I arrived on campus, I found they had one of the best hotel management programs in the country.

God planted the idea of me majoring in this area  back when I got a part-time job at a local Best Western, near my home in Tully, New York. My goal then, and now, is to build a hotel in South Sudan and help open the area to tourists. Tourists bring money, and money will allow my people to build schools and hospitals and dig water wells. My success as an athlete can also make these things happen.

The lost boys of Sudan made the news back in 2001, but people have short memories. The more successful I am as an athlete as a former lost boy, the more people will talk about  where I came from and the greater focus I can  put on the needs of South Sudan. Then, with my education from NAU, I can lead the way in doing something.

None of this made me feel pressure as I lined up for the 1500 meter final. Pressure is trying to make a UN food allotment stretch for 30 days. Pressure is watching people die of malaria and wondering who in the camp will be next. Pressure is writing an essay that will determine your entire future in a language you do not know. A footrace, even a championship race, did not make me feel pressure.

“Third and final call for the 1500. Runners to the line” the loudspeaker announced. I stepped up to the start line in the sixth position, right in the middle of the field.

Lopez Lomong, former South Sudanese “Lost Boy”, refugee in Kenya and now 5000 meter runner for USA Olympic team, training in Flagstaff, Arizona just before London Olympics (Jon Warren/ World Vision).

The gun sounded. I took off, five guys inside of me, six outside.

Everyone descend toward the middle of the track before the first turn. I don’t worry too much about running out too fast. The first lap of the 1500 doesn’t count for anything. Rabbits sprint to an early lead, but never count for anything.

Before the first turn of the second lap, I sped up, moving from sixth to fourth. My place overall did not matter as much as the distance I wanted to keep between myself and the leader. The second lap is all about positioning yourself.

I stayed loose but focused through the third lap. We crossed the start line. A bell rang out.

The first lap does not matter. The second lap is all about positioning. Lap three is where you prepare to strike. And lap four? Lap four is “Help me God!”

Just a little bit more, I said to myself as we moved towards the back straightaway. Up ahead was the 300 meter mark. The moment my feet crossed it I started to kick.  I darted into second.  Up ahead, Leo Monzano sprinted hard.  My legs felt strong through the final curve.

…. I pushed myself as hard as I could. Manzano pushed as well.  Fifty meters to go.  He stayed one step ahead of me.  I sprinted with everything within me. I moved to the outside. At the 30 meter mark,  I pulled nearly even with Manzano.  A dead heat.  At 20 meters I pulled just ahead.  I never saw him again.

Head up, eyes focused on the finish line, I ran as hard as I had ever run in my life for the win. I cruised through the finish line, took a few steps, punched the stopwatch on my wrist, then collapsed on the track in joy. I looked up at the heavens and made the sign of the cross.

“Thank you God, Thank you God! May you multiply this gift more and more.”

My prayer had to do with far more than running.

Read related posts: From Sudanese ‘Lost Boy’ to U.S. Olympian, Lopez Lomong’s childhood story of terror,  and The day I became an American.

Want to read Lopez Lomong’s whole story? Check out his book, “Running for my Life.”

Lopez is partnering with World Vision to bring help and hope to the people of South Sudan through interventions like clean water, education, nutritious food, and healthcare. Join him in the fight for a better life for his home country by visiting 4SouthSudan.org.

Now continuing with World Vision’s series sharing Lopez’s story as he runs for the USA!  Let’s look at the day he became and American:

Lopez Lomong: September 11, the day I became an American

Lopez Lomong will run the 5000-meter race for Team USA at the London 2012 Olympics. (Jon Warren/World Vision)

In the first installment of the Lopez Lomong series, we shared Lopez’s terrifying experience of being ripped away from his parents by rebel soldiers at the age of 6. After his kidnapping, Lopez was taken to a camp where boys were forced to become rebel soldiers, killing other people, or dying themselves.

From there, a series of miracles occurred. Lopez was befriended by three older boys in the camp, who rescued him and fled the camp on foot at night. After running for three days and nights, the boys found themselves at a refugee camp in Kenya.

Lopez lived there for the next 10 years, dreaming of what else life might hold and growing closer to God each day. He prayed that one day he would be able to leave the refugee camp and find a new life. His prayers were answered when a family in the United States near Syracuse, New York, decided to adopt him as their own.

Part 2 of the series picks the story up after Lopez moved to the United States. It was only a short time that Lopez had been here when the 9/11 terrorist attacks occurred. As his new home was under attack, Lopez struggled to reconcile the haunting memories of wars and violence in Sudan with the expectations of new life and safety in America.

Read on to learn how this experience shaped him.

*     *     *

I sat and watched the television. Smoke and dust covered New York City. I was scared. This looked worse than anything I’d heard about in Sudan. The home phone rang almost nonstop.

Another plane crashed, this time in Pennsylvania. The news anchors said the White House might be the next target. I could not keep watching. I turned off the television and went outside to wait for Mom and Dad to come home.

Images of people fleeing New York on foot across the bridges felt far too familiar. I had to get away from it.

Mom and Dad arrived a short time later. Both were visibly shaken. I sensed that they, too, were very afraid. Mom hugged me and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I lied. My new country, my home, had been attacked. I had no idea where New York was. For all I knew, the World Trade Center and the Pentagon could be nearby. Earlier, I saw planes flying overhead, which made me wonder if Syracuse might be attacked next.

We went inside. Dad turned on the television. I did not want to watch. I’d experienced war. Watching the start of another did not appeal to me. But I did not say anything. Instead, I sat on the couch and watched with Mom and Dad.

A newscast showed a scene from the other side of the world in which people celebrated. Al-Qaeda claimed responsibility. I recognized that name. They had ties back to the people who bombed villages in South Sudan.

I felt like I was back there again. Every time we saw a fighter jet in Kimotong, we ran to a cave for shelter. I didn’t know where to run here. Maybe we didn’t have places to hide. What were we to do when planes attacked us?

Dad could tell I was afraid. “You know you are safe here, no matter what you see on television,” he said.

“Yes, I know,” I said.

“We don’t know where all of this will lead,” Mom added, “but it will never be like it was in Africa. This is an isolated attack. You don’t have to worry about an attack around here.”

“I understand, ” I said. I watched them closely. Their actions matched their words. Yes, they were upset by the attacks, but they had a strength about them that told me everything would be okay.

We watched the news for a little while longer. After a while, I announced, “I’m tired. I think I will go to bed.”

Mom and Dad both hugged me goodnight. I went upstairs and climbed into my bed. As bad as this day had been, it was very different from the war back home. Lying there in the dark, listening to the television downstairs, I knew that in spite of everything I’d seen and heard that day, I was safe.

Lopez Lomong accompanied by his mother, father, and his brother Dominic as he proudly receives his US Citizenship (Photo Courtesy of Lopez Lomong).

However, my illusions about America being a land of peace were shattered. Bad people are everywhere. Unfortunately, that is a part of life wherever you live.

Over the next few days, I discovered how different America was from Sudan. Back home, we had to run and hide. We didn’t have a way to stand up and fight. Then, I saw President Bush on television, standing in the midst of the carnage in New York, a bullhorn in his hand. Rescue workers stood all around him.

I could hardly understand anything he said, but the image of him standing there was the most powerful thing I’d ever seen. He inspired me more than words can describe. Watching him there, I knew I was safe.

The next day, when I went to school, a table was set up in front selling t-shirts. I picked one up. Across the front were the words “United We Stand” with an American flag in the background. I bought one. Everyone in the school bought one. We all wore them the rest of the week.

This was another change for me. I realized the American people love their country, and more importantly, are extremely proud of it. I had never been proud to live in Sudan.

I never knew it was possible to be proud of a country. I was proud of our community, and I was especially proud of my mother and father and all their hard work to provide for us kids. I always walked with my back straight and proud when I walked with my father to our cattle.

But I had never been proud of my country.

Now, I was. I would not become a citizen of the United States until 2007 — which was was the earliest I could — but after September 11, I was an American. The terrorist attacks had bonded the country together and made me a part of it as well.

This new place was now my home, a home I loved and was proud of, a home I hoped to represent someday — and make my home proud of me as well.

Read related posts: From Sudanese ‘Lost Boy’ to U.S. Olympian and Lopez Lomong’s childhood story of terror

Want to read Lopez Lomong’s whole story? Check out his book, “Running for my Life.”

Lopez is partnering with World Vision to bring help and hope to the people of South Sudan through interventions like clean water, education, nutritious food, and healthcare. Join him in the fight for a better life for his home country by visiting 4SouthSudan.org.

GO LOPEZ!!!

Today’s post is the first in a series that recounts the life story of Lopez Lomong, who will run with Team USA in the London 2012 Olympics, with dreams of bringing home a gold medal.

While his current life sounds like a dream come true, his childhood was more like a nightmare. Born in war-torn South Sudan, Lopez was kidnapped by rebel soldiers at the age of 6 with two foreseeable futures: being forced to kill as a child soldier, or being killed himself.

Part one of the series tells the story of this dark chapter of Lomong’s life. Follow along as we hear from him on his abduction, being adopted into the United States, and the realization of his Olympic dreams through his new book, “Running For My Life.”

*     *     *

My eyes were closed in prayer when the trucks pulled up. I heard them before I saw them.

When I looked up, I saw soldiers pouring out of the backs of the trucks. They appeared nervous, as though they wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Everybody down! Now!” they shouted as they ran into the middle of my congregation.

I knew our country was at war. About once a month, my mother and father grabbed me and and my brothers and sister and ran for shelter as bombs fell in the distance from airplanes that flew from far overhead. But I had never seen a soldier until this bright, summer Sunday, and I had never expected to see soldiers invade a church service.

The soldiers continued running and shouting. Our priest tried to reason with them. “Please do not do this now,” he said.

The leader of the soldiers ignored him. “We’re taking the children!” he screamed.

I did not know what he meant by that. I would soon.

In this image, Lopez Lomong is being coached to chase his dream. But it’s a far cry from his early childhood years in South Sudan. (Photo courtesy of Lopez Lomong.)

My parents dropped to the ground, pulling me down with them. I huddled close to my mother’s side. She wrapped her arm so tightly around me that my ribs hurt. All around me people screamed and cried. I started crying too. My mother tried to calm me but she was as frightened as I was.

Suddenly I felt a hand on my back. I looked up and saw a giant man standing over me. When you are a little boy, every adult looks like a giant. His gun was slung behind his back. A chain of bullets hung across his chest. My mother pleaded with him: “No, no, no! Don’t take my boy!”

The soldier did not reply. With one hand, he yanked my mother’s arm off of me while picking me up with the other. He dragged me past the giant tree at the front of our church and toward the trucks. “Hurry up! Let’s go!” he yelled.

All around me, other soldiers herded boys and girls and teenagers toward the trucks while yelling for everyone to speed up.

I turned around. My mother and father were off of the ground, chasing after me. Tears ran down their faces. They were not alone. All across our church, parents chased their children, weeping and wailing.

“Please do not take our children,” they begged. “Please, please, we will do anything you ask — just do not do this.”

One especially giant soldier swung back around toward our crying parents. He waved his gun in the air and screamed, “One more step closer and we will open fire!”

I could not see what happened next. I felt myself being picked up and and thrown into the back of one of the trucks. I bounced off another boy and and landed on the hot, dirty, metal truck bed.

The truck was full of children from my church. A green canopy covered the top and sides of the truck bed so I could not see out. Suddenly the tailgate slammed shut and the truck lurched forward.

I did not know it at the time, but my childhood had just ended.

I was just 6 years old.

*     *     *

A note from Lopez:

My thoughts are never far away from those other boys and girls who, for no fault of their own, will never know the carefree celebration of life that should be the right of every child.

It’s for this reason that I’m turning up the heat on awareness and positive engagement efforts in South Sudan, creating sustainable hope for the young ones who deserve life in all of its fullness.

I invite you to follow this blog and check out my website as I move toward London. Join me in running a race, buying a t-shirt, or giving a gift through the 4 South Sudan initiative, creating real change in a land of endless possibility.

For more on my story, check out my new book, “Running For My Life.”