A home here

After four years at the Kakuma Refugee Camp in Kenya, Riiny and his sister left for Calgary, land of snow and darkness. An uncle they had never met had sponsored them. Riiny was 15 and Akuol, 12.

Riiny, who couldn’t speak any English, entered Grade 10 at St. Mary’s High School; at night, he spent hours at the local library, reading kids’ books to try to catch up. Soon after arriving at St. Mary’s, he “popped his head” into basketball coach Kevin Johnston’s computer class—“this big, tall kid, who couldn’t have weighed more than 160 lb.,” recalls Johnston, who recruited him to the team.

Somehow, Riiny—who only had sandals—squeezed his size-17 feet into size-12 shoes for basketball practice; by the end of the hour, he could barely walk. Skills-wise, he was as rough as they come. The ball slipped through his hands, he was clumsy, and he didn’t know the travel rule. But he had desire and coachability, and spent hours catching bounce passes and finessing his shot. And, of course, when he stood beneath the hoop, he could almost touch the rim. On defence, his wingspan was so big they dubbed him “Albatross.” The next season, with Riiny at centre, his team won the city championships.

Off the court, however, he was having stomach problems (he wasn’t used to eating complex carbs and so much meat), and every day brought a humbling new lesson: how to eat spaghetti with a fork, how to use scissors, a can opener, a washing machine, a scarf. Still, keeping Riiny in school was never a problem. “One day, he was sicker than a dog, and I had to say to him, harshly: ‘You need to be home,’ ” Johnston remembers. “I can’t miss school,” Riiny replied. He was focused on getting to university. Basketball, he knew, was his ticket.

After high school, Riiny spent two seasons at a U.S. junior college. NCAA Division I schools wanted him, but lower-than-hoped-for SAT scores and recent visa problems caused him to look north. As soon as basketball legend Steve Konchalski, former coach of the men’s national squad, got wind of it, he recruited Riiny to the X-Men, his team of 35 years.

Riiny, who now speaks perfect English (pronouncing Antigonish—“ANN-ih-gah-’nish”—like a local) still dreams of making the big leagues like his cousin, NBA star Manute Bol. But he has other dreams, too—like working for the United Nations when he graduates from St. FX. (Akuol, still in Calgary, is hoping to become a nurse, and has a partner and a baby.)

There is one thing, however, that Riiny wants most of all. Five years ago, by accident, a friend of his father’s recognized him at a Sudanese gathering in Calgary. That night, Riiny, who hadn’t seen his parents, Mayuot and Yar, since the attack on Wau, not only learned that they were alive but, within minutes, was speaking to his mom over the phone. One day, Riiny hopes to be able to afford to visit them in Africa.

“I’m not a Lost Boy anymore,” Riiny says, his voice friendly and open. “I’m not worried about anything anymore.” Canada, he adds, is home.