They burne and baby s my father... because I

I went to find did not want because I had eave. oing through Uganda. We re stuck here, y children.” into violence ndependence r started as a ivals. Soldiers loyal to President Salva Kiir are from the Dinka ethnic group. Rebels allied to his former deputy Riek Machar are Nuer. Both sides are often accused of atrocities.

Every day at the refugee camp, battered buses disgorge weary passengers inside the high-security fence. It is a spine-shattering two-hour drive along bumpy mud tracks from the border. Most people have no possessions, having fled from gunfire.

The refugees are given a metal bowl of kidney beans and porridge. For many, this is the first meal in over a week. Then there is nothing to do but wait in 40C heat. Pockets of shade are at a premium.

Robert Nduku, 14, is sat in the dust in the chaotic reception area. He fled South Sudan with his brothers, Nicolas, 13, and Simon, 12. “Our parents stayed behind but they wanted us to go so we weren’t kidnapped by the soldiers,” says Robert.

“Many of our friends were taken and given guns to shoot adults with. They didn’t want that to happen with us.

“Two people were killed right in front of me. They shot one man in the back of the head. We had to go. Every few minutes we would see more bodies.”

“Look at these sandals,” Robert exclaims, nodding down to the withered flip-flops hanging off his feet. “These were what I wore to walk for nine days.”

The boys look exhausted, half-asleep in the infernal heat. They never wanted to be residents of the world’s biggest refugee camp. They never wanted adventure.

But because they have each other, they somehow feel lucky.