USA TODAY International Edition
SOCCER OFFERS STRENGTH FOR REFUGEE TEENS
African teens find brotherhood on a Texas soccer team, as US cuts refugee numbers
HOUSTON – The boys in royal blue huddled in the middle of a soccer field, arms locked, heads bowed, their lucky hot pink socks a sharp contrast to the browning grass and storm-threatening sky striated with slate and gray.
In few minutes, the reVision Football Club would play their final match of the fall season. If they won, they would qualify for a state soccer cup for the first time by beating last year’s champions.
They would defy the odds – as they have been doing all their lives.
Most of the teenage players were born in refugee camps in Africa and arrived in this country with nothing, save a few phrases in English – “Hello” “How are you?” “Where is the food?” – and the yearning for a better life.
Here, they encountered a different kind of struggle: New languages and unfamiliar cultures, classrooms where they are bullied for their accent and skin color, hardscrabble apartment complexes where street gangs fish for fresh recruits – and now, a president who has made it clear that refugees are no longer welcome.
But one thing has remained constant. From Africa to America, they have found ways to keep playing soccer.
In the beautiful game, they discovered strength and self-confidence. In this team, which came together almost by accident, they forged a brotherhood. In their stories, they offer a glimpse into the challenges confronted by refugee children – who, in 2016, made up about 44 percent of those resettled in this country.
Now, on the Sunday before Thanksgiving, the reVision FC squad gathered in a scrum on Field 26 in Bear Creek Pioneers Park in northwest Houston, ready to face Cedar Stars AcademyGreen.
No matter what happens, team captain Francois Elize, an 18-year-old born
in Congo, told the others, we will not hang our heads down.
“ReVision on three!” they yelled. “One! Two! Three! ReVision!”
Finding refuge
Iluta Shabani, who came to this country three years ago and dreams of playing pro soccer, heard about the games from a friend passing by on a bicycle.
Every Sunday, he told Iluta, a group of boys converge to play pick-up soccer on a grassy expanse behind St. Luke's United Methodist Church Gethsemane, a church in the heart of the city's refugee enclaves.
Iluta grew up in the vast Nyarugusu refugee camp in Tanzania where he used plastic bottles and wadded bags as makeshift balls. The 17-year-old followed his friend to the church campus – running behind him for more than 2 miles.
Erick Musambya found out about the St. Luke's field from a cousin. At first, he was afraid to go – his parents, who are from Congo and feared that America was like the violent, gun-toting images they had seen in movies, kept their children safely inside. But soon, he became a regular.
So did Amani Godfrey, who left Tanzania when he was 3. In Houston, where he was raised, he had always played soccer with his family. Now, he began to use the impromptu games as a way to distance himself from a crew that did little but hang out and smoke.
These were the kids Charles Rotramel, who runs reVision, a nonprofit that works with youth involved in the juvenile justice system, had hoped to draw when he turned the swatch of grass behind St. Luke's into a soccer pitch.
Most were refugees from Africa, with lives that had been filled with chaos and trauma, with stories of parents who escaped civil strife in their homelands and fathers killed in unrest. They didn't quite fit in with Spanish-speaking Latino classmates or English-speaking African-American peers.
Their parents worked long hours for meager wages, leaving them alone for stretches of time.
They were looking for a place to belong – making them ripe targets for gangs such as the Southwest Cholos and MS-13 that plague the southwest Houston neighborhood.
In that part of town, apartments once marketed as singles' complexes now house families resettled from Africa, Asia, the Middle East and Latin America.
The marquee sign outside St. Luke's greets visitors in English, Spanish, Swahili and French – a nod to the community and to the diversity of Houston, home to one of the largest refugee populations in the country.
At nearby Margaret Long Wisdom High School, refugee students hail from 29 different countries, including 13 African nations. They often arrive far behind grade level and able to speak two or three languages, but not English.
Soccer, Rotramel thought, could be a way to keep these kids from getting entangled in street life.
A band of brothers
When some players were forced out of their homes during Hurricane Harvey, Rotramel and reVision provided supplies and shopping trips; their teammates helped with moving and moral support.
When Erick's mother moved to Kansas City last year without warning and Amani's family relocated to a neighborhood on the northside of Houston, Iluta's family took in both of the teenagers.
When Rotramel breaks out snacks and food for the players, who often don't have enough to eat at home, many secretly pocket the offerings – to take home for younger siblings.
“They are the ones who created this. They were looking for a safe place and found it in each other,” said Rotramel. “They are creating a magical space of family for each other.”
In this space, with each other, they reminisce about what they left behind – playing soccer in bare feet, hunting birds with slingshots, the friends still in refugee camps. They incorporate African music and choreography into weekly hip-hop dance sessions. They teach Swahili to the three Latino players and absorb some Spanish in return.
“They are like my brothers,” said Iluta. ”When I don't have something, they give it to me. When they don't have, I give it to them.”