2026-09-11, 04:50 AM - Word count:
Sometimes when people ask this question, I know it is meant to be an insult. But it does not bother me. Usually, I will let my feet do the talking. Today... I will tell you my story so far.
I was born in Banfora, Burkina Faso. My country is not wealthy, and Banfora is a small city in that country. A market town, with some tourism due to the Cascades de Karfiguéla. Overall, there's not much going on there. But it is my home. I won't bore you with the history of the city, and how it became linked to Bobo-Dioulasso (a much bigger city) and all that stuff. It is important you understand where I am from, though.
I am the oldest of six children. I have four younger sisters (only one of them has the same father as me), and one brother. My father died before my second birthday, and my siblings' father left for Ouagadougou when Pierre, the youngest sibling, was one year old... he sent some money back at first but this quickly stopped. We never heard from him again. And so... I became "the man of the house". I had already taken a job as soon as I was old enough to work, and this was just a natural progression. I was a tall child, so I looked older, which helped a lot for this. My first job, as an eight year old, was just to run errands at a hotel nearby. The tourism industry is useful sometimes. I gave the money I got from work, plus all my tips to my mother, then went to train football in the evenings.
My great-uncle Henri was a well-known coach, and the local boys' team he used to run let me train with them for free. My coach, Philippe, paid for my registration and encouraged me a lot. When I was ten, he told me I should try to play for a team in Bobo-Dioulasso, because I was good enough to compete with them... but I did not see how this was possible for me. We could not afford the travel costs. I enjoyed playing football for Philippe, though. This was enough. Going to Bobo-Dioulasso was a dream. Nothing more.
On my twelfth birthday, Philippe and his brother Djibril, who helped him at the football club, came to my house. I thought this was strange, but also, I was becoming a man. Perhaps this is why they were here? No. Something much greater. First they gave me a gift of some football boots to replace the old, worn out pair I had been using. They were not new, but this did not matter. They were in better condition than mine. Then... My mother handed me an envelope of cash and told me it was to go to Bobo-Dioulasso and play football. I said no, because it was money the family needed, and she insisted I should take it. She said it was money she had been saving from all of my wages and tips since I was eight. Hidden away, even from my now-absent stepfather. This is who my mother is. Always doing what is best for others. Something I have never forgotten, and try to do in my life too.
Anyway, Philippe travelled with me to Bobo-Dioulasso, while Djibril took over the football club. The money I had, combined with Philippe's savings, was enough to buy food and rent a small room for about a month. I remember he said to me "Manny, you have one month to impress one of these clubs, or we will have to return to Banfora," so I worked hard. Every day, training. Running on the streets, dribbling a ball every chance I got. Practicing my shots aiming at cans on a wall. Everything I could do, I was doing. Meanwhile, Philippe was speaking to all the clubs in the city. The small clubs wanted me to pay, and the big clubs would not look at me unless I played for one of the other clubs. I was stuck. Philippe told me to keep trying, I was at least on the school football team, and this was a chance. "As long as you keep working hard, I will keep trying for you," he said.
Playing for the school team was fun. I did well. Scored a lot of goals, created a lot of chances. The boys would pass to me all the time, "Manny will score if we pass to him," or "Manny can make the best pass," and so on. Eventually, someone approached my school teacher after a game, asking about my father. It had taken three weeks, but someone had taken notice. "My father is dead, sir, and my stepfather left the family some years ago". I explained. "Who takes care of you, young man?" He asked me. So I told him I was staying with a family friend. He gave me a little card with his name and some other information on it and told me to ask Philippe to contact him. Bakary Zoundi. I did not know the name at the time, but it would become a very important one for me. Later that evening, Philippe called the number, and they had some conversation. I did not hear all of it, I was too busy practicing my shooting outside. But Philippe told me he would be at my next match. "We do not have a lot of money left, Manny," he told me. "We might have to return to Banfora soon. So play your best. I will come to your next game, it might be the last time I get to see you playing here."
Next match for the school, we won 7-1. I scored five. Philippe came to congratulate me after the match, but he was crying. I had not noticed, but he was speaking with Monsieur Zoundi during the match. I had a trial with a big club in the city later that week. We went, and Philippe told me "just play football, Manny. And everything will be okay." At the time I thought he was trying to help me relax, even though I did not need it. I did not realise he was the one who was nervous. Monsieur Zoundi was there, speaking to some other men on the touchline. Around thirty boys my age were there too. They arranged some drills and then at the end, a match between all of us there. I started the match as a left sided defender, which was new to me. But I did my best, and tried to attack whenever possible. At half time, Monsieur Zoundi said something to the coach leading my side and I was moved to my favourite position on the right wing. I scored twice, and they signed me to their academy the next day.
Philippe took a job as a bicycle courier, and both of us took jobs handling cleaning and other tasks for the club, mostly on matchdays, to make sure we could afford rent. We travelled back to Banfora twice a year, to visit family. We could not afford to do more than this, just in case. The day before my fourteenth birthday, we were preparing to leave for the bus station, to visit our families back in Banfora when one of Monsieur Zoundi called Philippe. "There are European scouts coming today," he said. "Bring Manny." I was supposed to have the day off to go home and visit my mother, and the bus tickets were already paid for... but this was an opportunity. We called and told my mother, and she knew if I did not come that day, I would not be able to for a while. The bus operators do not like to give refunds. But she encouraged me to go. "Achieve your dream," she told me. "Then you come back home."
Two weeks later, I was sat next to Philippe on a flight to France, going to play in another academy. Some of the same money struggles continued in France, I worked part-time, while Philippe took odd jobs to supplement the small fee I got from the academy. At one point, we lived in an old beaten up car Philippe managed to buy. We could no longer afford to visit Banfora twice a year. Not even once a year. But I kept working hard. More scouts watched me. I moved academies again. And again. And now... I am here. In the SSL Academy system.
I have not seen my mother since I was thirteen. The work comes first. She knows where I am. She is waiting for my return. But first I must achieve my dream, like she told me.
I was born in Banfora, Burkina Faso. My country is not wealthy, and Banfora is a small city in that country. A market town, with some tourism due to the Cascades de Karfiguéla. Overall, there's not much going on there. But it is my home. I won't bore you with the history of the city, and how it became linked to Bobo-Dioulasso (a much bigger city) and all that stuff. It is important you understand where I am from, though.
I am the oldest of six children. I have four younger sisters (only one of them has the same father as me), and one brother. My father died before my second birthday, and my siblings' father left for Ouagadougou when Pierre, the youngest sibling, was one year old... he sent some money back at first but this quickly stopped. We never heard from him again. And so... I became "the man of the house". I had already taken a job as soon as I was old enough to work, and this was just a natural progression. I was a tall child, so I looked older, which helped a lot for this. My first job, as an eight year old, was just to run errands at a hotel nearby. The tourism industry is useful sometimes. I gave the money I got from work, plus all my tips to my mother, then went to train football in the evenings.
My great-uncle Henri was a well-known coach, and the local boys' team he used to run let me train with them for free. My coach, Philippe, paid for my registration and encouraged me a lot. When I was ten, he told me I should try to play for a team in Bobo-Dioulasso, because I was good enough to compete with them... but I did not see how this was possible for me. We could not afford the travel costs. I enjoyed playing football for Philippe, though. This was enough. Going to Bobo-Dioulasso was a dream. Nothing more.
On my twelfth birthday, Philippe and his brother Djibril, who helped him at the football club, came to my house. I thought this was strange, but also, I was becoming a man. Perhaps this is why they were here? No. Something much greater. First they gave me a gift of some football boots to replace the old, worn out pair I had been using. They were not new, but this did not matter. They were in better condition than mine. Then... My mother handed me an envelope of cash and told me it was to go to Bobo-Dioulasso and play football. I said no, because it was money the family needed, and she insisted I should take it. She said it was money she had been saving from all of my wages and tips since I was eight. Hidden away, even from my now-absent stepfather. This is who my mother is. Always doing what is best for others. Something I have never forgotten, and try to do in my life too.
Anyway, Philippe travelled with me to Bobo-Dioulasso, while Djibril took over the football club. The money I had, combined with Philippe's savings, was enough to buy food and rent a small room for about a month. I remember he said to me "Manny, you have one month to impress one of these clubs, or we will have to return to Banfora," so I worked hard. Every day, training. Running on the streets, dribbling a ball every chance I got. Practicing my shots aiming at cans on a wall. Everything I could do, I was doing. Meanwhile, Philippe was speaking to all the clubs in the city. The small clubs wanted me to pay, and the big clubs would not look at me unless I played for one of the other clubs. I was stuck. Philippe told me to keep trying, I was at least on the school football team, and this was a chance. "As long as you keep working hard, I will keep trying for you," he said.
Playing for the school team was fun. I did well. Scored a lot of goals, created a lot of chances. The boys would pass to me all the time, "Manny will score if we pass to him," or "Manny can make the best pass," and so on. Eventually, someone approached my school teacher after a game, asking about my father. It had taken three weeks, but someone had taken notice. "My father is dead, sir, and my stepfather left the family some years ago". I explained. "Who takes care of you, young man?" He asked me. So I told him I was staying with a family friend. He gave me a little card with his name and some other information on it and told me to ask Philippe to contact him. Bakary Zoundi. I did not know the name at the time, but it would become a very important one for me. Later that evening, Philippe called the number, and they had some conversation. I did not hear all of it, I was too busy practicing my shooting outside. But Philippe told me he would be at my next match. "We do not have a lot of money left, Manny," he told me. "We might have to return to Banfora soon. So play your best. I will come to your next game, it might be the last time I get to see you playing here."
Next match for the school, we won 7-1. I scored five. Philippe came to congratulate me after the match, but he was crying. I had not noticed, but he was speaking with Monsieur Zoundi during the match. I had a trial with a big club in the city later that week. We went, and Philippe told me "just play football, Manny. And everything will be okay." At the time I thought he was trying to help me relax, even though I did not need it. I did not realise he was the one who was nervous. Monsieur Zoundi was there, speaking to some other men on the touchline. Around thirty boys my age were there too. They arranged some drills and then at the end, a match between all of us there. I started the match as a left sided defender, which was new to me. But I did my best, and tried to attack whenever possible. At half time, Monsieur Zoundi said something to the coach leading my side and I was moved to my favourite position on the right wing. I scored twice, and they signed me to their academy the next day.
Philippe took a job as a bicycle courier, and both of us took jobs handling cleaning and other tasks for the club, mostly on matchdays, to make sure we could afford rent. We travelled back to Banfora twice a year, to visit family. We could not afford to do more than this, just in case. The day before my fourteenth birthday, we were preparing to leave for the bus station, to visit our families back in Banfora when one of Monsieur Zoundi called Philippe. "There are European scouts coming today," he said. "Bring Manny." I was supposed to have the day off to go home and visit my mother, and the bus tickets were already paid for... but this was an opportunity. We called and told my mother, and she knew if I did not come that day, I would not be able to for a while. The bus operators do not like to give refunds. But she encouraged me to go. "Achieve your dream," she told me. "Then you come back home."
Two weeks later, I was sat next to Philippe on a flight to France, going to play in another academy. Some of the same money struggles continued in France, I worked part-time, while Philippe took odd jobs to supplement the small fee I got from the academy. At one point, we lived in an old beaten up car Philippe managed to buy. We could no longer afford to visit Banfora twice a year. Not even once a year. But I kept working hard. More scouts watched me. I moved academies again. And again. And now... I am here. In the SSL Academy system.
I have not seen my mother since I was thirteen. The work comes first. She knows where I am. She is waiting for my return. But first I must achieve my dream, like she told me.
![[Image: Moka-New-Sig-1.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/59L4Rsrn/Moka-New-Sig-1.png)
