The teens believed soccer would save them. It would transport them from the poverty and violence of Nigeria to the green fields of America, where coaches would see their skill with the ball and offer them college scholarships, maybe even professional contracts.
So when their team came to Chicago in late summer for a series of friendly matches, nine players saw their chance. They told their coach to go back to Nigeria without them. They were going to stay.
But almost at once, their plan unraveled. The search for a place to live led some of them to a rough South Side neighborhood where, on the night of April 26, Kabiru Adewunmi, 16, a talented, hardworking midfielder, was shot dead as he walked to a convenience store.
The murder staggered the teens, some of whom saw it happen, but it did not shake their determination to remain in America. They attend Chicago high schools, play on an elite youth soccer club and live with the families of their teammates. While at least some of them no longer have permission to be in the country, they’re looking for immigration attorneys who might help them stay permanently.
“I don’t want to go back,” said one of the teens, a 16-year-old who claims that a family dispute would threaten his safety in Nigeria. “I can go to school (here) and I can have a career in soccer.” The Tribune is not naming him because he is a minor and because he is a witness to his teammate’s murder.
Most of the teens declined to speak in detail about their experience, citing concerns about their legal status. But the accounts of those who have helped them in Nigeria and Chicago suggest they are naive but driven young men, desperate for opportunity and frightened of what awaits them in their homeland.
“They don’t believe they have any hope in Africa,” said Wale Gafar, founder of the Lagos-based 36 Lion soccer club that brought the teens to America. “They hope that they’ll be able to get a splendid education, play good football and, eventually, make it and bring their families out of poverty.”
Speaking by phone from Nigeria, Gafar, who once lived in Chicago, said that for several years he has sent teams to the United States to let the players showcase their talents for American coaches. Last year, about 20 players ranging in age from 15 to 17 arrived for a round of “friendlies” against local youth teams. The trip was supposed to last three weeks.
Tina Hudson-Owodele, a beauty consultant who lives in Chicago’s Edgewater neighborhood and is close with the local Nigerian community, served as the teens’ mom away from home. She knew life was hard for them in Africa, but one episode underscored the gulf in living standards.
A teen had a deep sore on his ankle, and his only remedy had been to stuff it with cotton. Hudson-Owodele took him to a hospital, she said, and he was amazed at how well he was treated.
“That’s when I think he realized how much better life would be here,” she said.
When the friendlies were over, nine teens told their chaperons they weren’t going back. Gafar, who had not traveled with the team, said that while he did not encourage or approve of their decision, there was nothing the adults could do about it.
The Nigerians said they had family members or friends who had agreed to watch over them in Chicago, but when Hudson-Owodele called, the phone numbers didn’t work, or the people backed away from their commitments, she said.
With no one else coming forward to help, she said, she decided to care for the teens.
“They want to be American,” she said. “A lot of them don’t have the money to go to school (in Nigeria). They all have stories. I felt like my heart would break if I didn’t help them.”
She contacted some of the teens’ parents in Nigeria, and they told her they wanted their children to stay in America, she said. The families sent birth certificates and school records, which Hudson-Owodele used to enroll the teens in high schools on Chicago’s North Side. (A Chicago Public Schools spokesman said the district does not inquire into a child’s immigration status.)
She also took them to a tryout with the Chicago Fire Juniors North, a youth squad loosely affiliated with the professional franchise. The coaches, impressed with their skill, put them on the team.
“They are very talented young players,” said supervising coach Sole Antonijevic. “When I saw those teens (at tryouts), I saw the passion, I saw the talent and I saw the potential. It was kind of an easy decision to (sign them up).”
But while the teens’ educations and soccer careers fell into place, other parts of their lives proved more unstable. In October, a few weeks after Hudson-Owodele started looking after them, neighbors complained about the noise and the pungent smell of the teens’ cooking (fish and goat were particular favorites).
When her landlord started eviction proceedings, some of the teens sought out the Gazelles, an adult soccer club populated mostly by men of Nigerian origin, and asked for help.
Adewale Haastrup, who is part of the club, said he found a condo in the 8100 block of South Drexel Avenue where some of them could stay, while other Gazelles chipped in with food and clothing.
The adults periodically checked on the teens, he said, though none actually lived with them. They were on their own, tending to their own meals and getting themselves to school and practice, a trip that could take two hours on public transportation.
Hudson-Owodele said she didn’t know the teens were living without adult supervision. That became clear only after the terrible night of April 26.
The 16-year-old who spoke with the Tribune said the group arrived home from school about 6:30 p.m. They watched the heist movie “Inside Man” until about 8:45 p.m., when they decided to go to the corner store for some bread (they had eaten mostly rice the previous three weeks, he said).
The group passed three or four young men sitting on a car. The young men asked them if they were soccer players, and the teens said yes. A few moments later, someone with a black hoodie cinched around his face emerged from an alley, the 16-year-old said.
“I heard (Adewunmi) scream and heard someone fall in the street,” he said. “We all kept running home.”
Adewunmi had been shot several times. Paramedics took him to Jackson Park Hospital and Medical Center, where he was pronounced dead, police said. No one has been arrested for the crime.
The father of one of their club teammates quickly swept up the teens and took them into his North Shore home. They have since split up to stay with two more families.
The father, who did not want to be named for fear of the still at-large gunman, and his wife are hosting three of the players, driving them to a Metra station each morning so they can commute to their Chicago schools and giving them money for haircuts and other necessities.
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“They’re great kids, sweet, loving kids,” the father said.
He and other parents are looking for an attorney who could help the teens remain in the United States. At least one has an expired visa, the father said. Gafar said the team’s visas authorized them to stay in the country for no more than six months continuously, and that time has passed.
Those without legal visas generally are not allowed to extend their visits, according to a spokeswoman for U.S. Citizenship and
Services.
Gafar said one option under discussion is to seek asylum. Some of the teens claim their lives would be in danger if they returned to Nigeria. In brief interviews, they said political, religious and family strife made it too dangerous to go back.
But it is clear, too, that they understand the benefits of staying in America.
“People will really be there for you, to assist you with your career,” one of them said. “They want teenagers here to have a good future. If you focus, you can achieve your aim.”
Hudson-Owodele said the teens are hoping to win college scholarships with their soccer skills and perhaps go on to play professionally. Those are long-shot aspirations, but the teens clearly have ability.
This month, their junior teams competed in the Illinois State Cup, a prestigious tournament for young talent. The U-17 squad’s semifinal game was a defensive battle in which one of the Nigerians, an agile forward, barely missed several shots at the goal. After one blast sailed high, he pressed his forehead to the goal post in frustration.
Regulation ended in a 1-1 tie, and no one scored in the first 15-minute overtime period. But near the end of the second, the forward dribbled past two defenders in the penalty box and buried a shot in the net, shaking his fists in triumph as his teammates erupted on the sideline. The team won the game, and the next day took the championship.
While the competitive season is winding down, there are still more tournaments to play, more opportunities for the Nigerians to be noticed by coaches or scouts who could change their lives with the stroke of a pen. Their soccer dream may be stained by tragedy, but it endures.
Tribune staff reporters Jeremy Gorner and William Lee contributed
.