Danielle, a friend of mine, once worked with four of the lost boys of Sudan in AmeriCorps. Her reaction to them was much the same as my own to God Grew Tired of Us. For people who have experienced such unbelievable horror and atrocity—new to no continent on earth, but revisited with too much frequency in Sudan—they are almost universally kind, even sweet. They, perhaps more than anyone else on earth, have reason to be murderous, hateful, or just bitter. Instead, in Danielle’s words, they are “sincerely kind, open, warm people.” That they can recover from such horrible trauma is worthy of comment. That they carry no hate in their hearts is heroic.

A (very) brief recent history. The second Sudanese civil war erupted in 1983, between the predominantly Muslim north and mixed Christian and animist south. The north employed a systemic campaign slaughtering or sterilizing all male children alongside the more typical forms of genocide. The devastation to southern Sudan’s infrastructure was total. Huge caravans of boys travelled first to Ethiopia, and then back through Sudan to Kenya. Many subsisted entirely on mud and urine. Even sanctuary at a U.N. refugee camp in Kenya gave them only a basic education and all the time in the world to think about what had happened to their families and home. They were safe, but they knew they lived in a dead end.

This alone would be enough material for a seven-part series on HBO. Here, it’s setup and context. Seeing what these boys came from is crucial to understanding their perspective on life. Stripped of all material possessions, they have only community. Put in impossible circumstances, many fold, and many others assume superhuman levels of responsibility just looking out for each other. What’s extreme to us is commonplace to them.

The United States of America agreed to bring many of these lost boys and girls over on work visas. They come here, they get put in housing, the government foots the bill for three months, and after that they’re on their own. God Grew Tired of Us follows two of these lost boys closely. John Dau is deep, philosophical, and friendly. Panther is a little more outgoing, but his goals are no less ambitious. Their every action is selfless. John’s first thought upon arrival is to wonder why he, above anyone else in camp, got to be the one to come here. His next is that he must make good on his incredible chance.

It’s safe to say John and Panther impressed me. Anyone who can undergo that much senseless horror at the hands of others, and yet still not have a single hateful word in their vocabulary, is someone worth listening to. They never once speak of those responsible for their trauma, they just talk about their loss and how much it means to them to reconnect with living members of their family. Even at their moments of deepest alienation in a largely impartial America, they’re angry at no one. Irritation is the harshest emotion any of them admits to.

There are lessons in perspective in God Grew Tired of Us. Watching it, I felt humble, almost shamed. How little my complaints about life amounted to, compared to what these young boys faced without anger. The shame passes, and the inspiration stays. But their way of looking at life isn’t just inspiration, it’s a challenge. Imagine living your life free of anger. Now imagine being a stronger person for it.