The Unseen Battle: Struggling With Faith, Injury, and Hope

Smile. What is the worst that could have happened this year?

Recently I have been so conflicted about God and life. I have been battling so much emotion yet again I bottle it up. My freshman year nearly ended with my life. I have previously written about my season-ending injury. It’s common to hear the statement, “Nobody prepares you for adulthood.” But I would rather we change the wording to, “Nobody prepares you for anything.” Nobody prepares you for the good times or for the bad times. It all happens and we embrace it as it comes. 

January 6th, 2024, I jumped so high and blocked my teammate on the board. I had always wanted to block someone this way. For context, blocking is when someone tries to make a basket but the defender (opponent) swats or deflects the ball to prevent them from scoring. This didn’t end so well as I fell to the ground with a loud moan. My leg had twisted opposite to my thigh. For the next months, I lost my independence and leaped on crutches. I hated every bit of myself because I had played too hard to win the approval of the coach. I had blocked that ball to prove to the coach that I deserved to be on the floor playing and not just suiting up for the game and sitting at the edge of the bench. 

A lot transpired from that day onwards. With the level at which transactional sports are the order of some colleges, I felt the pain each day. I cried myself to sleep. I had a lot going on and often I beautified death. I recall one morning I received a text about an old girl who had passed away (Rest in peace Prisca Guttabingi). I was so mad at God because rightfully I felt it should have been me. I was tired of life. 

After my second surgery in the company of Awa Fane.

I had two surgeries; one in February to reconstruct the ACL and one in May to improve the flexion of the knee. They were painful but the real pain lay within my mind and soul. Ever since the injury, the coach made my life miserable (took a lot of courage to write this). She often remarked negatively about my identity as an athlete. Before trying to impress her, she had told me before the Christmas break, “I don’t trust you on offense.” This was after I had told her I didn’t feel engaged in the team’s offense. I became the player whose duty was to clap for her teammates and pat their shoulders. 

Often I sit down and have a rundown of all the things she said to me as if they are typewritten on my brain.

“You are not the type of player that can play on a championship team.”

“You are in the USA because life wants you to but not because of basketball.”

“You have the worst skill set I have ever seen.”

“Even before your injury, I had already dropped you off the team.”

I have not gained the courage to write down all that she said and did but it all plays on my mind anytime I get lost from the present. After all the painful words I had to take in, she wanted to offer me a role as the photographer or social media manager for the team on a full scholarship. 

“You could also work in the cafeteria to top up on that.” She had added. When I got injured, I decided to focus on photography and videography for the team which I did freely until the coach almost made it compulsory. Just a day after my surgery, it was Valentine’s Day and the team was having Galentines Day. The coach demanded my presence at the team activity and hoped I could take my camera along! 

A lot that I don’t have the courage to pen down happened. I badly wanted to return to Uganda and close this chapter of College Basketball. I was ready to go be a full-time farmer in Sironko. I couldn’t afford the ticket back home. I reached out to several people and interestingly the coach worked tooth and nail to have community donations stopped. 

“Those same people willing to contribute to your plane ticket are the same people that contribute towards the program. How will it look that they have to contribute both to an individual athlete and the program? You are spoiling the outlook of my program!” She said one time.

Somehow, there is always reason to smile.

I wouldn’t count this as luck but as a blessing. A lady called Samantha came through and purchased a one-way ticket back home. I was so happy to be back home. I wanted to stay home forever. I traveled back home just two weeks after my second surgery. I had to continue on guided therapy which was tricky in the Ugandan context. I finally met Dr. Samuel, a physiotherapist who was ready to take me under his wing. I had three therapy sessions each week at a fee of 50,000 UGX per session. I got to a point where I would have therapy sessions on debt. I spent every coin I found in my pocket on therapy. 

One evening while I was in the village with my father, we were seated on the balcony roasting some bananas while staring at the stars. 

“You no longer have a spark in your eyes.” My father said.

I did not respond.

“Not everyone on the team can become Lionel Messi or Ronaldo. But yet everyone on the team contributes to their success. My daughter, even if you never became the greatest basketball player the world has ever seen, you should know I am already proud of you.” He said.

Interesting fact: I have never gained the courage to tell my parents about all that transpired while in my freshman year. I break down every time I run back to those days. Often I would have a call with them while in the USA and the most I would say to them was, “I am not doing great.” My father would pray over me and tell me stories from the Bible. Stories of Joseph and Job. Up to date, I am still gaining the courage to tell them what happened. 

Down the road, I was regaining myself, and often coaches from the USA called me offering me opportunities. This was contrary to what my former coach said to me one time, “No Coach will ever look at you!” Unfortunately, most of the offers were not full scholarship offers and as someone who comes from a country where one dollar equates to three thousand five hundred shillings, it wouldn’t make sense to risk it that much in a country where bills are real!

Finally, a young gentleman came through and offered me an opportunity. It wasn’t a full ride but it covered the greatest part of the financial demands. I have lived in Texas, Boston, Missouri and this year at the end of summer, I landed in North Dakota in a town called Devils Lake. I had a lot to leave behind and I have battled with trusting people around me. If you asked me how my friends are here, I would say they are fine. But if you asked me on a deeper level, I would tell you I don’t think I even have friends! Even though I love it here. The community is great and most importantly the coach has been nothing but a true human being to me. On some days I wonder if he is hiding his true self from me and will one day turn and become my past experience.

Down the road, I didn’t play in the preseason scrimmages because I had the trauma from the injury and also I thought it best to wait for a full eight months post-surgery. Throughout my injury and recovery time, I still worked out almost every day - whether getting form shorts in or dribbling or lifting. 

The season finally started. After my first game on November 1st this year, I sat down and cried like a widow. I played for approximately eight minutes. I had three turnovers coming off the bench and I was not in the rotation. My past was reborn and I immediately crumbled. The coach reached out to me and we talked about it. I don’t think I will ever understand why I had that panic attack. 

Eight games into the season, I blocked someone and I just crumbled to the ground. There was the same silence that I felt on 6th January. Everyone was ordered to leave the court. The only difference this time, I stood up and walked to my team’s bench as the fans clapped. I was given crutches that evening. The first week after this incident was heavy on me. I had this immense feeling of dislike for GOD. Before every game, my ritual was to meditate for five minutes and then pray on my knees. I had just one request, “An injury-free season.” I felt like God was not hearing me. I tried keeping a sane face in public but I knew my eyes were as glassy as they always were in Texas.

The second week got better and I honestly fear for what my third week will bring because I had an MRI before Thanksgiving break. I am waiting for the results. Once again, as the year ends, I am resigned to my bed and my right knee fears what results I will receive. The school trainer and the doctor all suspected an ACL. 

I should honestly be mad at God. I recently texted someone and asked them, “If they ever doubt God!” But I am at a point in my life where the verse “But me, I'm not giving up. I'm sticking around to see what GOD will do. I'm waiting for God to make things right. I'm counting on God to listen to me.” (Micah 7:7) is more than applicable. I wish I could say it feels easier or it’s less of a burden but it is not. 

Wish me luck as I prepare to find out if I have another season-ending injury that requires surgery or I will be resigned to only therapy! 

I will be back!

If you have read this far, I have just a few reminders. Be proud of yourself for making it this far in 2024. You are doing great and you cannot compare yourself to who you were at the start of the year. 

For my statistics at my former school. I averaged 2.8 pts and 2.8 rebounds in 83 minutes played (10 games).

My current statistics as I returned from an injury.

Game 1: 0 pts | 0 Rebs | 0 nothing (2 pts but were not recorded)

Game 2: 9 pts | 3 stl 

Game 3: 5 pts | 1 stl | 2 reb 

Game 4: 14 pts | 4 stl | 5 ast | 15 rebs

Game 5: 4 pts | 4 rebs

Game 6: 5 pts | 3 reb | 1 stl | 1 ast

Game 7: 2 stl | 5 reb | 16 pts | 1 ast

Game 8: 9 pts | 14 Rebs | 1 steal

Average: 7.8 pts 5.4 Rebs 

10 steals in 8 games

DELAYED BUT NOT DENIED