I’ve been chasing memories in the course of Africa for over a decade now, from the dusty markets of Nairobi to the resilient businesses rebuilding after warfare. But not something pretty organized for me for Juba, the beating coronary heart of South Sudan—the area’s youngest america of america, born in 2011 out of the ashes of a brutal civil war. Here, in which the Nile’s waters carve thru parched earth, basketball isn’t only a hobby.
It’s a lifeline, a rebellion in competition to despair, and for thousands of children like 14-12 months-antique Peter Oja, it’s miles the handiest mild piercing the shadows of poverty and instability.
Picture this: the solar hangs low over Juba, casting long shadows at the cracked asphalt of a makeshift court. Dust kicks up as shoes squeak in competition to the floor, and laughter—unusual and valuable in a place haunted with the aid of gunfire—echoes via the air.
Peter, lanky and determined, with eyes that hold the burden of a nation his age, dribbles a worn-out ball like it’s his price ticket to the next day. Born the very year South Sudan declared independence, Peter’s existence mirrors his country’s turbulent adventure. The combat for freedom from Sudan, Africa’s longest civil conflict, gave manner to internal strife, corruption, and a conflict to forge a country wide identity. But in this courtroom, those battles fade into the heritage.
“It’s approximately showing up every day, no matter what,” Peter tells me, wiping sweat from his forehead as we sit down within the modest backyard of his circle of relatives. His voice is consistent, but there can be a hearth in it—the type that comes from understanding basketball is probably the best thing that draws you out of the streets. “Our coaches drill it into us: focus on what you could manipulate. Practice hard, play as a set, and love your brothers and sisters at the court docket. Everything else? It works itself out.”
Peter’s now not exaggerating. At simply six years old, he changed into already hoisting trophies, thanks to the Luol Deng Foundation. Founded by using the South Sudanese-British NBA All-Star, the organization has been a sport-changer since its early days, jogging camps that blend basketball with lifestyles classes on area and cohesion.
His mother, Sara, a single parent, who does strange jobs to feed Peter and his brother -in -law, smiles with pride, as he rubs through his room, emerging with medals and shining statues. “It,” he says, holding a dusty award from that first camp, “changed everything. It gave me a reason to dream bigger than survival.”
Sara nodded her head, her smile tired but real. “I pray that Basketball takes him away – perhaps a scholarship, maybe the NBA may be like that boy. If Peter makes it, he can take us out of this hole.” His words are heavy, one will for bets. The economy of South Sudan is one of the weakest in the world, with more than 80% of people living in poverty, floods, famine and ongoing clashes.
For families such as Peter, there is no sports luxury; this is survival.
The Roots of Resilience: From Manute Bol to Luol Deng
To apprehend why basketball has taken root so deeply in South Sudan, you have to go again to the towering parent of Manute Bol. At 7 ‘7″, Bol was a Sudanese massive who became the NBA’s first South Sudanese player inside the Eighties, playing for groups just like the Washington Bullets and bringing a slice of Africa to American arenas. He wasn’t only a player; he was an image. Bol returned to his native land multiple times, the usage of his fame to advocate for peace and training. Tragically, he surpassed in 2010, simply earlier than independence, but his legacy endures.
Enter Luol Deng, a two-time NBA All-Star who fled Sudan’s civil war as a child, searching for asylum within the UK. Deng’s course—from refugee camps to the Chicago Bulls and past—mirrors Bol’s in its improbability. But Deng did not prevent private achievement. In 2010, he launched the Luol Deng Foundation, first of all targeted on UK younger humans, however quickly expanding to South Sudan.
By 2015 the foundation had opened the Manute Bol Court at the University of Juba, a sleek, sunbaked bowl named for the pioneer; its colourful tiles threw back the light like a patchwork of mirrors, and the unforgiving floodlights turned night into a second, harsh daytime for practice. I walked onto that hardwood one sweltering afternoon, the air heavy with sweat, dust, and a stubborn, hopeful resolve.
Coach Tony, a grizzled veteran who has been molding younger information because the court docket’s commencing, sat on a weathered bench, eyes constant on a collection of teens jogging drills. “This vicinity? It’s a remedy,” he says, his voice tough from years of shouting over chaos. “Most humans grew up dodging bullets, looking at households torn apart. War might no longer cease with the treaties; it lingers inside the soul. Basketball heals that. It pulls youngsters off the streets, away from gangs and capsules. Idle fingers breed problems—busy ones construct futures.”
Tony’s no stranger to the frontlines himself. The 2013 civil battle, sparked with the resource of ethnic tensions among President Salva Kiir’s Dinka and Riek Machar’s Nuer, devastated Juba. Fighting spilled onto the very court docket in which we sat; Peter recollects it vividly. “We were working towards the same time as the pix rang out,” he recounts, his face darkening. “They herded us inside, locked the doorways. You can not play when worry’s are given your coronary heart in a vice.” That 2018 peace deal? It’s fraying at the rims in 2025, with Machar and his partner under residence arrest because of the reality that March, threatening renewed violence in the north.
Corruption scandals and economic woes compound the crisis, leaving youth like Peter vulnerable
Yet, amid this turmoil, the Deng Foundation persists. Arek Deng, Luol’s sister and the foundation’s CEO, oversees operations with a blend of steel and compassion. A former player for Great Britain’s women’s team and the University of Delaware, Arek knows the game’s power intimately. “We’ve got no steady donors right now,” she admits over a crackling phone line from Juba. “Luol funds most of it himself. USAID cuts hit us hard—those residential camps in Wau and beyond? Gone. We had to let the staff go. But we can’t turn kids away. The streets are no place for them.”
Arek’s words echo as I watch a gaggle of six-year-olds, siblings in tow, dribbling with infectious energy on the Manute Bol Court. Older teens shepherd the little ones, turning the court into a family affair. “It’s about more than hoops,” Arek adds. “It’s leadership, teamwork, resilience. In a country where hope is scarce, this builds it brick by brick.”
Rising Stars: National Team Triumphs and Global Spotlights
South Sudan’s basketball ascent isn’t always just neighborhood lore—it is making worldwide waves. The men’s country wide team, dubbed the Bright Stars, bowled over the arena at the 2024 Paris Olympics. As the fine African finisher at the 2023 FIBA World Cup, they earned their debut spot, then pushed a celeb-studded U.S. Group—providing LeBron James and Kevin Durant—to the threshold in an exhibition, losing one zero one-100.
At the Games themselves, they notched a historic first win, toppling Puerto Rico ninety-seventy nine on July 28.
Luol Deng, now president of the South Sudan Basketball Federation and the boys’ coach, became on the helm, his imaginative and prescient turning underdogs into contenders.
The women’s crew observed in shape in 2025, claiming bronze at AfroBasket—their continental debut victory.
“It’s pride, pure and simple,” says one player in a publish-event interview. “We’ve carried the weight of our nation’s tale on our shoulders, and we are lightening it with every basket.”
These feats aren’t flukes; they may be the fruit of Deng’s decade-lengthy investment. From 2019, when he took the federation reins, South Sudan has long passed from obscurity to FIBA’s thirty third-ranked state, with an 11-1 qualifying streak it’s the most exceptional in history.
Then there’s Kamaan Maluaach—Peter’s idol and South Sudan’s latest export to the NBA. At 7 ‘2″, the 18-year-old center was the 10th overall pick in the 2025 Draft by the Houston Rockets (traded to Phoenix Suns), fresh off a standout freshman year at Duke.
Maluaach’s journey began in a Luol Deng camp in Uganda, where he trained as a teenage refugee. “From refugee to Rookie of the Year contender,” headlines blared.
For Peter, it’s proof: “If he can make it from nothing, so can I.”
These successes ripple lower back home. The basis’s Deng Academy, a flagship program, now serves over 1,000 young people yearly with 12 months-long camps, leagues, and co-curriculars emphasizing training and health.
Partnerships extend the effect: In June 2025, Stanbic Bank, NBA Africa, and the inspiration tipped off the second one season of the Jr. NBA League, engaging 450 boys and ladies underneath 16 from 30 Juba faculties.
“It’s not just games,” says a foundation post on X. “It’s transforming lives through sport.”
Challenges on the Court: Visas, Funding, and the Shadow of War
But glory comes with thorns. The Trump administration’s April 2025 visa revocation for all South Sudanese citizens—tied to a deportation dispute—slammed the brakes on dreams.
Arek Deng recounts the heartbreak: “Two kids, a boy and a girl, had scholarships lined up, tickets in hand. Families poured life savings into it. Then, at Juba airport, denied. Crushed.” The ban, aimed at pressuring Juba to accept U.S. deportees, has stranded talents who could follow Maluaach’s path.
In July, South Sudan began accepting some deportees, but only in exchange for eased sanctions—a geopolitical chess game that youth pay for.
Funding woes compound the isolation. With USAID pulling out, the foundation relies on Luol’s pockets and sporadic initiatives like the HER Time program for girls, which in June 2025 empowered 25 teens aged 13-19 with leadership training.
“We’re bootstrapping,” Arek says. “But turning away a child? Impossible. The alternative—streets, gangs—is worse.” X posts from the foundation highlight the grit: “Despite cuts, camps stay open. Sport changes narratives.”
War’s specter looms largest. The 2018 accord teeters, with northern clashes displacing thousands. “Guns interrupted our peace once,” Tony reflects. “We fear it’ll happen again.” Yet, coaches like him persist, using basketball as “healing.” As one X user noted, “Luol’s funding the fight for hope where politicians fail.”
Building the Future: Programs, Partnerships, and Perseverance
The Deng Academy isn’t going it alone. In year two, the Jr. NBA League fans out across schools, stoking good-natured rivalries that help weave neighborhoods together. Draft day buzzes, kids pull jerseys on like armor, parents howl from the bleachers, cameras click. “It’s about growth beyond the game,” says a representative from NBA Africa. Who could argue?
For girls, initiatives like Female Athlete programs address gender barriers, teaching resilience alongside rebounds.
I’ve seen it firsthand: In Wau, remote camps blend basketball with literacy drives. Kids who once idled now recite team plays and dream of scholarships. “Sport unites tribes,” Tony says. “Dinka, Nuer, Equatorian—on the court, we’re one.”
Luol Deng’s vision? A basketball powerhouse. “Like Kenya in track, we’ll dominate,” he told ESPN in 2024.
With no indoor courts yet—Deng’s building the first—outdoor grit defines them.
X buzzes with pride: “From refugees to Olympians—South Sudan’s story inspires.”
A Beacon Endures: Hope on the Horizon
As the solar units on Manute Bol Court, Peter and his teammates p.C. Up, medals clinking like guarantees. Sarah watches, desire flickering in her eyes. In a kingdom wherein battle’s echo lingers and visas bar paths overseas, basketball stands tall—a beacon for the teens to chase.
South Sudan’s story is not over. With Deng’s basis, rising skills like Maluaach, and unyielding coaches, the court docket is in which the future is cast. One dribble, one skip, one dream at a time. It’s not just a recreation; it’s their revolution.
