Rebecca Deng’s What They Meant for Evil: How a Lost Girl of Sudan Found Healing, Peace, and Purpose in the Midst of Suffering is a deeply personal memoir that recounts her journey from the horrors of war-torn South Sudan to a life of faith, healing, and advocacy in the United States. As one of the “Lost Girls of Sudan,” Deng’s story parallels that of the more widely known “Lost Boys,” yet her narrative uniquely highlights the experiences of women and girls who endured displacement, violence, and trauma during the Second Sudanese Civil War. The book is both a testimony of survival and a reflection on forgiveness, resilience, and the transformative power of faith.
The memoir begins in the small village of Duk Payuel in southern Sudan, where Rebecca’s early childhood is marked by family, community, and tradition. Her father, a respected leader, and her mother, a nurturing figure, instill in her a sense of belonging and hope. However, this peaceful existence is shattered when civil war erupts between the northern Sudanese government and southern rebels. The conflict, fueled by ethnic, religious, and political divisions, devastates countless communities. Rebecca’s village is attacked, forcing her and her family to flee. The violence claims the lives of many, including her father, and marks the beginning of a long and perilous journey toward safety.
Rebecca’s flight from Sudan is harrowing. Along with thousands of other children, she walks for months across dangerous terrain, facing starvation, disease, and the constant threat of attack. The group eventually reaches refugee camps in Ethiopia and later in Kenya, where they endure years of hardship. Life in the camps is defined by scarcity, limited food, inadequate shelter, and minimal education. Yet amid the suffering, Rebecca finds moments of grace. She becomes involved in church activities, learns English, and begins to dream of a future beyond survival. Her faith, introduced to her through Christian missionaries and nurtured in the camp’s small church gatherings, becomes a source of strength and identity.
The title of the book, What They Meant for Evil, draws from the biblical story of Joseph in Genesis 50:20, where Joseph tells his brothers, “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good.” This verse encapsulates the central theme of Deng’s memoir: the transformation of suffering into purpose. Rebecca interprets her own life through this lens, seeing her survival not as an accident but as part of a divine plan. Her faith allows her to reinterpret trauma as a foundation for empathy and service.
After years in the refugee camps, Rebecca is selected for resettlement in the United States. She arrives in Michigan as a teenager, part of a wave of Sudanese refugees who were relocated through humanitarian programs. The transition is both liberating and disorienting. She must navigate a new culture, language, and educational system while processing the trauma of her past. The contrast between her life in Africa and her new environment is stark—simple things like running water, electricity, and abundant food are both blessings and reminders of what she lost.
Rebecca’s resettlement experience also exposes her to the complexities of identity and belonging. In America, she is labeled a “Lost Girl,” a term that carries both recognition and reduction. While the “Lost Boys” received significant media attention, the stories of the “Lost Girls” were often overlooked. Rebecca’s memoir seeks to correct this imbalance by giving voice to the women who endured similar journeys but faced additional challenges such as gender-based violence, forced marriage, and limited educational opportunities. Her narrative underscores the resilience of these women and their capacity to rebuild their lives despite systemic neglect.
Education becomes a central pillar of Rebecca’s transformation. She pursues her studies with determination, recognizing that education is both a personal liberation and a means to uplift her community. Her academic success leads her to leadership roles within the Sudanese diaspora and humanitarian organizations. She becomes an advocate for refugees, women’s rights, and peacebuilding, using her story to inspire others and to raise awareness about the ongoing struggles in South Sudan.
Throughout the memoir, Rebecca reflects on the tension between memory and healing. Remembering the past is painful, yet forgetting it would mean erasing the experiences that shaped her. She learns to integrate her memories into a narrative of redemption rather than despair. Forgiveness emerges as a recurring theme—not as a denial of injustice but as a conscious choice to break the cycle of hatred. Her Christian faith plays a crucial role in this process, offering a framework for understanding suffering and a path toward reconciliation.
Rebecca’s journey also intersects with the broader history of the Sudanese diaspora in the United States, particularly in cities like Chicago, which became a hub for resettled refugees. Chicago’s Sudanese community provides a sense of connection and continuity, allowing her to maintain cultural ties while adapting to American life. The city’s churches, community centers, and advocacy groups become spaces where she can share her story and contribute to collective healing. Her involvement in these networks highlights the importance of community support in the refugee experience.
As Rebecca matures, she begins to see her story not only as a personal testimony but as a call to action. She recognizes that her survival carries a responsibility—to speak for those who did not survive and to work toward a world where such suffering is not repeated. Her advocacy extends beyond the Sudanese context to global issues of displacement, gender equality, and faith-based reconciliation. She collaborates with organizations that address trauma recovery and education for refugee children, embodying the principle that personal healing can lead to communal transformation.
The memoir’s structure mirrors Rebecca’s emotional journey—from chaos to clarity, from loss to purpose. The early chapters are filled with vivid descriptions of war and flight, capturing the fear and confusion of a child caught in conflict. The middle sections focus on endurance and adaptation, portraying the refugee camps as both prisons and sanctuaries. The later chapters shift toward empowerment, as Rebecca finds her voice and mission in the United States. This progression reflects the broader human capacity to move from victimhood to agency.
Stylistically, Deng’s writing is direct and heartfelt. She balances personal narrative with historical context, allowing readers to understand both the individual and collective dimensions of the Sudanese tragedy. Her tone is reflective rather than accusatory, emphasizing understanding over blame. The memoir’s emotional power lies in its honesty—Rebecca does not shy away from describing her pain, yet she consistently returns to themes of hope and faith.
By the conclusion of What They Meant for Evil, Rebecca has come to embody the message of her title. The forces that sought to destroy her—war, displacement, loss—have instead shaped her into a messenger of peace and compassion. Her life becomes a testament to the possibility of redemption through faith and perseverance. The memoir closes with a sense of fulfillment, not because all wounds are healed, but because they have been transformed into sources of strength.
In essence, What They Meant for Evil is more than a survival story; it is a meditation on the meaning of suffering and the power of forgiveness. Rebecca Deng’s journey from a war-torn village in Sudan to a life of purpose in America illustrates the resilience of the human spirit and the redemptive potential of faith. Her story challenges readers to see refugees not as victims but as bearers of wisdom and courage. Through her voice, the “Lost Girls” of Sudan are no longer lost; they are found, remembered, and honoured.
Reference:
Rebecca Deng, what they meant for Evil. 2019.