A refugee Olympian from South Sudan shows the true meaning of sport
A refugee Olympian from South Sudan shows the true meaning of sport
Pur Biel training at the Tegla Loroupe Peace Foundation in Ngong, Kenya in 2019.
I grew up near Nasir in South Sudan, surrounded by cattle, crops, and family. Our village, our home, was in an area that had long been affected by the civil war, and one day, in 2005, we found ourselves in the middle of the conflict. Soldiers stormed into my village; they burned everything to the ground. I had no choice but to run. For three harrowing days, I was forced to hide in the bush, only to return to a place that no longer resembled home.
I was just 10 years old, and I was alone, having been separated from my mother and little brother in the aftermath of the attack. Like many other South Sudanese refugees, I found safety in Kakuma refugee camp in neighbouring Kenya. Here, I discovered a love for sport, especially through playing football with my classmates. All of us came from different places, yet we shared the same experience of being forced to flee our homes. It was sport that brought us together. It gave us a sense of belonging, community and most importantly, hope.
I had lived in Kakuma for 10 years when I entered a running competition organized by the International Olympic Committee and UNHCR, the UN refugee agency. Running barefoot, I finished third in the 10k race. Soon after, I was invited to a dedicated training camp in Nairobi with a shot at joining the first ever Refugee Olympic Team for the 2016 games in Rio de Janeiro. At the training camp, I received my first pair of running shoes. Nine months later, I was an Olympian walking in the Opening Ceremonies of the Rio 2016 Games. To many, this might seem like the end of an incredible journey. But I see it more as a beginning.
Pur Biel runs in the 800-metre race in the Olympic stadium at the Rio 2016 Games.
Sport has provided me with almost unimaginable opportunities. I graduated with a degree in International Relations from Drake University in Des Moines, Iowa – something that was beyond my wildest dreams when I first arrived in Kakuma. I competed at a Division 1 level alongside elite National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) athletes across the United States and benefited from top-tier training facilities. Still, I knew that my goal was not just to change my own narrative. It was to change the narrative for refugee athletes everywhere, both in the US and around the world.
This soon became my mission. I was the first refugee member elected to the International Olympic Committee (IOC), as well as the first refugee fellow at the US Olympic and Paralympic Committee (USOPC). In these roles, my priority has been to help refugee athletes less fortunate than myself. I have met incredibly talented refugees who lack the opportunities I was given. My goal is not just to provide them with training facilities; we must also create avenues for skills development, confidence-building, and community integration. We must and can do more.
With the Olympic Refuge Foundation (ORF), I have, with the support of others, led efforts to enhance support systems for future refugee Olympians. The ORF’s goal is to provide greater access to sport for 1 million young people affected by displacement by the end of 2025. This ambition complements USOPC’s initiative to identify and train elite refugee athletes residing in the US and give them the support necessary to qualify for the Refugee Olympic Team. With its deep history of athletic excellence and diversity and its welcoming attitude towards refugees, the US is uniquely positioned to show how sports can drive integration and empowerment, especially in the lead-up to the Los Angeles 2028 Olympics.
This summer, a new generation of refugee athletes will compete in Paris. I know they will feel the nerves I felt, show the determination I showed, withstand the pressure I withstood, and be filled with the pride that still fills me. But when I look back at my experience in Rio, it is not my own race I think of most. It is the opening ceremony, when I stood alongside my fellow refugees, together with thousands of other athletes from all over the world, cheered on by tens of thousands in the crowd and watched by millions at home. In a world full of conflict and uncertainty, the Olympics offers hope, humanity, and, above all, solidarity. It reminds us of the forces that bring people together, bridge divides, and create positive change.
This article was originally published in El País on 26 July, 2024.
