When she was discovered missing, many presumed she was dead. The thick scrub surrounding the camp was home to lions, leopards and wolves, no place for a child to be alone at night.

When she was found mutilated, her jaw hanging from her face, those closest to her feared the worst. Medical treatment was hundreds of kilometres away and her nomadic family had no transportation.  But they were to discover that Margaret Ilukol was no ordinary young woman. 

Her incredible tale of survival took her on a journey from one of Africa’s most primitive tribes in the dry and poor lands of Karimoja to the capital city of Kampala then on  to Newcastle, Australia.

Private and reserved because of her facial disfiguration, Ms Ilukol had endured the depths of self-pity and isolation, as well as sickening physical pain and the agony of cultural obscurity. But rather than just survive the brutal attack, Ms Ilukol thrived in her new life. She got an education, sat her HSC, worked as a nurse in Hunter hospitals for more than 30 years, made hundreds of friends, travelled the world and wrote an autobiography. 

 Ms Ilukol died at her home in Cooks Hill on February 15. She was believed to be 59. Her date of birth is unknown, but Ms Ilukol believed she was  eight  when her life changed forever in 1963. She should have died, but the injuries she suffered from the hyena attack set her life on an unexpected path. In  her book Child of the Karimotong, Ms Ilukol outlines her memories of the attack.

It is difficult to imagine a more gut-wrenching opening passage: 

‘‘I felt a suffocating grip around my mouth and heard a hard crunching sound,’’ she wrote. ‘‘Something was dragging me ruthlessly along the rough ground.  I couldn’t breathe.  What was happening? Something sharp pierced the middle of my head.

 ‘‘Whatever was dragging me away was crawling on all fours. It dropped and picked me up several times as the bones of my face tore apart.

 ‘‘Something stopped me from screaming.  All the noises I tried to make shut off in my mouth.  I was dreamy and confused, out of my senses ... I put out my hands to identify my attacker and found myself clinging to a furry coat. Then there was a gap: everything stopped.’’

Child of the Karimotong, often referred to as Child of the Karimojong, is Ms Ilukol’s  brutally honest recollection of how she slowly learnt to live with her new face and in her new home. It is a story of great   courage. After the attack she was found more than a kilometre away from the village. 

She had survived, but the task of getting medical assistance would be incredibly difficult. The nearest township had no medical supplies and before they could get her help came crude improvisation in the form of a blunt knife to cut off her dangling jaw bone. It took days before the family could organise a lift to Moroto Hospital, which had one doctor. 

Fortunately, along the way maggots from the festering wound managed to keep it clean and free of infection. She was   taken on to  Kampala where she spent  much of the next decade. Her father, Amoet, a ‘‘cattle warrior’’, stayed by her side for three months.

 She underwent  30 operations and started her formal education at a nearby school. When the doctors in Uganda had done as much as they could, the call went out around the world to help give the little girl a future.

An article about her in a 1974 international Rotary magazine  found its way to the Hunter, where her story struck a chord with  Kevin Leary, of Toronto. He remembers going to Jim Evans, who was  chairman  of   Royal Newcastle Hospital, to pitch an idea to him. That idea eventually led to Newcastle winning a bid to assist Ms Ilukol, ahead of a group in New York. Mr Leary and  wife Val went to Uganda and brought her home. 

‘‘She had an absolutely heart of gold,’’ Mr Leary said this week. ‘‘She was an amazing woman.’’ 

Mr Leary said he had received countless phone calls since her death, a testament to the number of lives she had touched. 

Indeed, the plea from civic groups in Uganda  helped start what is still a campaign to help foreign children receive treatment for congenital heart defects. The man behind New York’s push to help Ms Ilukol, Robert Donno, once met up with her in Newcastle decades later to tell Ms Ilukol of her lasting legacy. 

  Once in Newcastle, Ms Ilukol first stayed with Peter and Denise Frost and began having operations under surgeon Bill Walker. Altogether, it is believed she had 75 facial operations.

She remained terribly self-conscious about her appearance. As a result, friends say she never married.

 Over the years Ms Ilukol lived with many  Newcastle families, most associated with Rotary. They included Victor and Maisie Bensley, David and Yvonne Thorpe, Ray and Von Norris, Bruce and Jill McGavin, Barry and Dawn Roberts, Edie and Amy Cockburn, Mick and Margaret Jones, Reg and Elaine Lenaghan, Vic and Margaret Brain, Robert and Dorothea Clark, among  others. 

She got her higher school certificate at St Josephs  Lochinvar in 1978, aged  23. By then, she also had a new face and a dream to become a nurse. She began work as a student nurse at Gosford Hospital in 1980. She would carve out a 30-year career in the health sector. Colleagues and friends at John Hunter’s ward E1 were left saddened by her sudden death. She almost never took a sick day, liked to work at night, enjoyed treating elderly patients, and had a remarkable ability to bond with children. 

She lived in many people’s homes throughout the Hunter before deciding it was time to get one of her own. She   began writing an autobiography in 1984 and had it published in 1990. It is as much a story of Rotary as it is of her extraordinary life. 

 Her ‘‘adopted’’ families and friends remember her for her wicked sense of humour,  her intelligence and determination. 

‘‘She could be as quick and witty as you could imagine,’’ Mrs Frost said. ‘‘If you said something then she would come back quietly with a little riposte and she was absolutely to the point. But she was very dignified – you had to admire the way she conducted herself  ... She didn’t just survive though, she flourished. She is not someone to be pitied, not at all.’’ Filmmaker  Greg Hall had tried for many years to turn Ms Ilukol’s story into a  film or documentary. Ms Ilukol told him she saw Don Cheadle as the actor to play  her father. Mr Hall was in discussions with her about a second book before  her death. 

‘‘She was highly intelligent, I would say if circumstances had been different and perhaps if she had access to education earlier in her life she could very well of been a doctor, easily,’’ he said. ‘‘She was also incredibly compassionate and it was   what happened to her in Kampala  that really inspired her to become a nurse. 

‘‘She was aware of what would have happened had this horrible thing [the hyena attack]  not happened. She reflected on that the extraordinary opportunities  she had which other [Ugandan] children  would never have had. She said she likely would have ended up like most of her family members, a lot of them died in a cholera epidemic.’’

Ms Ilukol returned to Uganda several times, but it  was clear to her she belonged  in Newcastle. Her adopted city, her adopted life. 

Her funeral will be held at Christ Church Cathedral late next week. Those attending are asked to dress in colourful clothing.