The Right to Dream

From West Africa to Stanford, Ousseni Bouda seeks to make a difference

09/21/2021

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SOMETIMES, WHEN OUSSENI BOUDA comes home to the West African nation of Burkina Faso -- and it’s not often – he goes to work. 

At his grandmother’s house in the capital city of Ouagadougou, Ousseni takes large bags of peanuts and pours them into a container. From there, he begins to sort through them, separating the good from the bad. 

The good peanuts are roasted, cooled, and placed in a grinder. Eventually, soft peanut butter is spooned into jars and transported to the open-air market where Ousseni’s mother sells them along with other cooking condiments. 

In Burkina Faso, peanut butter is used to make stew or soup and lend flavor to sauces and gravies. It’s a taste and smell that lingers in the subconscious when Bouda thinks of home. He thinks of his grandma, Fatimata, whom he calls Yabba Fati.

“My grandmother makes the best,” he said. 

Bouda finds himself immersed in two worlds and the contrast is frightening. There is Burkina Faso, a poor nation stained by political coups, vast child malnourishment, and increasing terrorism. And there is Stanford, one of the great universities, where he is a soccer star and international studies major. 

Bouda never loses sight of this dichotomy. Or, that he has taken one unlikely step after another to get to this place. 

“I think about home all the time,” he said. “It’s crazy that a kid from Burkina Faso, growing up where I grew up, in the household I grew up in, can make it here. It’s such a blessing. That’s the reason why I feel I need to give back to Burkina Faso.”

OUSSENI’S FATHER, Issouf Bouda, is a butcher in a nation traditionally known for its meats – mutton, lamb, poultry, goat, beef, and fish. He is Mossi, from the largest tribe in the landlocked semi-arid country of 20 million. Therefore, Ousseni is considered Mossi, which also is his native language. 

Ousseni’s mother, Salamata Compaore, is Bisa. The tribe is known for its cultivation of peanuts.

Traditions are a bit different in the city. Ouagadougou, population 2 million, is in the center of a country mostly divided among tribal regions and towns. But the city marketplaces thrive with diversity. 

Issouf and Salamata sell their goods in the capital’s open-air market. That’s where they met. Salamata is so dedicated, she nearly gave birth to their first child there. Ignoring contractions, Salamata finally was pried from her station and rushed to a hospital, just in time for Ousseni’s arrival. 

Since infancy, Ousseni spent his days at the market. For as long as he can remember, he wandered and dribbled a ball or other round object all day long, evading and spinning from customers as if they were defenders trying to tackle it away. 

Amid the activity and mix of tribes and clans, Ousseni developed comfort in being around a variety of people and he developed confidence in talking to them. It’s an attribute that has served him well in new places. Otherwise, his mind usually was filled with soccer. 

His father is a huge fan, watching as many matches as possible, at home or at the neighborhood pub with friends. Issouf encouraged Ousseni to choose favorite players and emulate them. Ousseni especially followed African stars like Didier Drogba of Cote d’Ivoire and Samuel Eto’o of Cameroon, as well as Portuguese superstar Cristiano Ronaldo. 

Issouf wished for Ousseni to play professionally, but Salamata recognized how even great Burkinabe players often had little to show for their soccer careers, winding up in Sunday leagues without a trade to fall back on. She saw how young players were exploited by soccer academies, often rife with corruption, where they sacrificed education for sport and were poorer for it. 

Neither Issouf or Salamata had much schooling, but mother made sure Ousseni never lost sight of academics, threatening to ground him from the game if his grades slipped at his Christian school (he is Muslim). Some academies showed interest, but Salamata viewed them with skepticism and they were rejected. 

The family lived in a two-room house five minutes from the marketplace when Ousseni was young and he slept on the couch. But mostly, Ousseni, the oldest of four children, grew up in a three-room house. 

Soccer in Ouagadougou meant playing anywhere there was room -- large games in an empty lot, small games in an alley or on the street. ‘Fields’ were dirt or concrete and the players were barefoot. A goal might be a wall, or rocks placed on the ground. Field lines might be traced by feet in the dirt. 

“We’d play for hours and hours,” Ousseni said. “We were either playing soccer or it was too hot. But I can remember days when I woke up in the morning, played soccer after breakfast all the way until lunch time. Came home, ate, and went back out, and played soccer until it got too dark.”

BAREFOOT SOCCER ON rough ground has its risks. 

“Sometimes, you miskick the ball and kick the ground and your toenail comes off,” Bouda said. “In general, you just get used to playing through the pain. Otherwise, you just sit and watch your friends play, which isn’t fun.

“People are always getting injured, and nails are always coming off. And then you’re forced to play with one foot and improvise.” 

The ball itself was anything round, or mostly round. Sometimes, it was a collection of plastic bags assembled with enough craftsmanship to bounce. Other times, the players – 5-10 year-olds – collected enough money to buy a ball, which was given to the oldest to keep. Those who didn’t contribute were not allowed to play. 

“Whoever had a ball was the boss,” Bouda said. “Everybody respects the guy who has the ball. The owner chooses who plays. If the owner doesn’t like you, you’re out. If everyone thought you were selfish or picking fights, you can’t play and must apologize. The ball built a small community within us, where you have to contribute something to the whole group if you want to play.”

Ousseni’s grandmother lived on a grid, which made it easy to divide teams by blocks. So, pickup games would tend to be spirited. If you won, you could hold your head high as you walked through the neighborhood of your victims. But if the game was particularly intense, you could get jumped and beaten. 

“We made sure we walked together to protect each other,” he said. 

When Ousseni was 10, his talent was noticed by an influential man in his life whom he calls simply, “Coach Issa.” He invited Ousseni to join his youth team, the Avenir Football Club. Though still barefoot (at least at first) and still playing on dirt, Ousseni now shot at actual goals and wore an actual uniform. The club’s goal was to showcase players to academies, the first step toward joining a professional team.

“Back then, we actually had fans,” Bouda said. “That’s how much people care about little kids who might not even be 10 years old. It would be packed. People sat on the walls watching us. I have memories of scoring and people storming the field -- some of my best memories.”

IN THE SUMMER, AFC practiced twice a day. Ousseni woke at 5 a.m., and rode his bike two hours for 7:30 training. Yabba Fati lived near the field and Ousseni rested there between sessions. At 2:30 p.m., they played some more, until 5:30 or 6. Afterward, Ousseni rode two more hours home, through the dangerous city streets, in the dark without a helmet or headlight.

Stop for a moment and consider the dedication, effort, and love of the game that this requires, especially for a 10-year-old. It never was a hobby. 

As Dani Rojas, the fictional forward of Ted Lasso’s Richmond FC, says: “Football is life!” And so it is for Ousseni Bouda. 

“Hunger and drive and motivation are such massive factors for an athlete to maximize their ability,” said Jeremy Gunn, Stanford’s Knowles Family Director of Men’s Soccer. “A lot of great athletes have a decent amount of hunger, a good amount of drive. But what can sometimes separate people who really truly excel? They’re the people who need to play, rather than want to play. 

“And, with Ousseni, he just needs to play.”

The harrowing commute ended when Ousseni moved in with Yabba Fati. Ousseni was enrolled in a nearby school, and his mother paid the tuition for the coming year. The problem was Ousseni was so engrossed with soccer, he lost track of school. 

A scout from Ghana’s Right to Dream Academy came to the AFC training ground one day. But because it was crowded with players vying for attention, Ousseni and his teammates barely got a chance to show what they could do. 

Coach Issa convinced the scout to return the next morning for a closer look, and asked Ousseni, the captain, to get the word out to his teammates. Amidst all the calls going out, Ousseni answered a call coming in. 

“How do you feel about the first day of school tomorrow?” a friend asked. 

Ousseni had completely forgotten. He realized school began at 7:30 a.m. and the tryout was at 8. Ousseni was panic-stricken. 

I can’t skip school, he thought to himself. Mother would never allow it. After all, this was exactly what she always preached, that school comes first. 

School or soccer? Priorities never were in greater relief.

AT AGE 11, Ousseni had a vague idea of the Right to Dream Academy. He didn’t know specifics, only that it was a chance that might not come again. 

The Right to Dream Academy sits on an expanse of green land by the Volta River in southern Ghana, a more prosperous nation to the south of Burkina Faso, on the Gulf of Guinea. Right to Dream was founded in 1999 on a dusty patch of dirt by Englishman Tom Vernon, an African scout for Manchester United, to train and educate West African players. It has expanded ever since. The goal is to use soccer as a platform to create change at home. 

Still unsure and anxious, Ousseni woke the next morning and dressed in his soccer uniform and wore his school clothes over it. He put cleats between his books in his backpack and walked to school. 

At 7:30, class began. The teachers introduced themselves and talked of the coming year. Sweat beaded on Ousseni’s forehead as he fidgeted In the back of the classroom, staring at the clock. Would he dare to leave? Could he be so bold? 

Even at his young age, Ousseni sensed this was a turning point. At 8 a.m., Ousseni could stand it no longer. Without warning, Ousseni left the classroom, found a friend’s bike and began to ride. As furiously as he could, Ousseni pedaled toward the training ground. 

When Ousseni arrived, his teammates were walking off the field. His age group just finished. He was too late. Ousseni dropped to his knees and cried, and even sobbed. He failed in every way possible. He disappointed his mother, and failed his coach, and himself. 

Coach Issa saw what was happening and didn’t feel the same way. He tapped Ousseni on the shoulder and said, “Don’t give up.” He would let Ousseni join the older players, 15-18-year-olds, for their tryout. Coach Issa found a jersey for the older team, way oversized for the small and slight Ousseni, and draped it like a tent over the young boy’s head. 

With his small frame and oversized shirt, Ousseni looked out of place physically, but was rejuvenated by the second chance. He was pushed around a bit, but his technical skill shined through. The scout took notice. He called Ousseni off the field. He wanted to see more. 

The filtering process worked like this: Groups of about 20 gathered in each age range and played in small games. The best were selected to be grouped together with other top players, and so on, until only a final group was left. 

At the end of the day, the scout called out those who would receive an invitation to Right to Dream. Two from Burkina Faso were selected. One was Ousseni. 

It meant he would move to Ghana. If he passed examinations of his character, academics, and soccer ability during a short trial, Ousseni would commit to spending his next five years there.

IN A TYPICAL year, 25,000 children play in Right to Dream’s 75 recruitment tournaments, with about 300 kids in each. They compete for 18 scholarships. 

“I felt some other kids were more talented than me,” Bouda said. “But the scout saw something in me that I didn’t even see in myself. Next thing I know, I’m the only kid from my city to get chosen. That gave me confidence for the rest of my life -- the confidence that I must be good enough.”

Dad was thrilled. Mom … not so much. She questioned the academics at the academy, feeling Right to Dream could be like the others, a soccer factory that cared little about her son’s future. The parents agreed that Issouf would accompany Ousseni to Ghana. If he could vouch for the education, Salamata would give her blessing. 

When Ousseni and his father pulled up to Right to Dream’s countryside grounds, with its eight grass fields, new campus buildings, and gleaming dormitories, they knew this was greater than they could have hoped. To get a small idea of why this must have looked like the Emerald City, consider that Ousseni never played on grass before. 

Ousseni was among 90 student-athletes from ages 11-18, all on full scholarship. They would be serviced by 60 staff and taught in a Cambridge International School that emphasized science, technology, math, and English. 

As they walked into the main building, Ousseni and Issouf noticed a sign on the wall: “Don’t expect to reach your dreams if you don’t help other people reach theirs.”

“There are hundreds of millions of kids in Africa and the opportunities they have to develop their talents are pitiful and minimal in comparison to the number of talented children on the continent,” said Tom Vernon, the CEO and founder, on a Right to Dream promotional video. “We’re trying to create opportunities … We need to empower a generation of leaders and role models who can do something about offering the next generation of kids the chance to really shine and excel on the world stage.” 

No one spoke French or Mossi, the languages Ousseni spoke in Burkina Faso. Everything was in English, and so Ousseni was determined to learn English as quickly as possible. And he did, within three months. He also picked up the local Ghanaian dialect, Twi, and became fluent in four languages. 

Issouf returned home and reported back to Salamata. “This is better than all the schools I’ve ever seen in Burkina Faso,” he said. 

At Right to Dream, Bouda became a more confident player and gained a more worldly perspective on his place and potential. Much of that had to do with the academy’s approach, of striving to give back. 

Every semester, the academy focused on one of seven character traits: self-discipline, integrity, initiative, winning, giving back, social intelligence, and passion. Ousseni soaked up these lessons and turned them into a foundation for his own life. 

“I’m learning what my true identity is and what type of person I want to become,” he said. “And how that could be beneficial to Burkina Faso and my city? 

“The way I see it is, I’m going to be something different from what they’re used to – a different type of soccer player. I don’t think I’ve heard of a soccer player from Burkina Faso who went to a university like I have. It’s something where kids can look up to me and be like, OK, maybe it’s not too bad to stay in school and play soccer as well. Maybe it’s not too bad to focus on the other things I’m good at.”

AT RIGHT TO DREAM, the paths branch. If a player stays to age 18, there is the path directly to the pros. The academy is affiliated with a Danish Superliga club, FC Nordsjaelland, where many academy graduates go. Other players are signed by clubs in Europe and Africa. 

Then there is the academic route. At 15, they can be placed in an American or English boarding school, which gives them the opportunity to go to a university.  

Bouda chose eastern New York and Millbrook School. It was cold there. Bouda added coats, jackets, gloves, and handwarmers to his wardrobe. He saw snow for the first time. 

But Bouda fit in well. If he needed anything – advice, support – he got them from teachers, friends, coaches, and his host family. He couldn’t often return to Burkina Faso, but Sunday FaceTime with his family was, and continues to be, sacrosanct. 

“The kids were so different from the kids I grew up with, so it took a little time to adjust,” Bouda said. “But it wasn’t hard. Millbrook is such a special place. They welcomed me and provided all the support I needed from the first day I stepped on campus.”

Bouda led Millbrook to three consecutive New York Class C state championships, scored 156 goals -- including five in each of his final two matches -- and was honored as the Gatorade National Boys Soccer Player of the Year as the best in high school soccer. 

Behind the scenes, Bouda began to live to his promise of using his platform to help others back home. He collected used cleats and uniforms from his teammates and carried bags of equipment on the plane on his next home visit, delivering them to Coach Issa and his old youth club, AFC. At Stanford, Bouda continues to collect equipment for the next time he returns to Burkina Faso.

Bouda knew of Stanford’s academic reputation -- he’d heard of the school as far back as the academy -- but didn’t connect it to soccer at first. But while at Millbrook, he searched the Internet for the best universities, and also the best soccer programs. Stanford, in the midst of three consecutive NCAA championship seasons (2015-17), was a match. 

Bouda’s freshman roommate at Millbrook was from the Bay Area and invited Ousseni to spend the summer, giving Bouda the chance to attend Stanford’s soccer camp. That’s where he caught the eye of Gunn. 

“You’re drawn to Ousseni on the soccer pitch because of his amazing abilities and how exciting he is as a player,” Gunn said. “Then, when you get to talk to him, you realize that he’s a special type of individual -- confident, with a belief in himself, and enough humility to be open, interested, and inquisitive.”

Salamata, thanks to Ousseni’s host family, attended Ousseni’s Millbrook graduation. She saw her son’s framed No. 7 jersey – the same number worn at AFC by his 10-year-old brother Rashid – in an honored place on campus. Otherwise, his family never has been to the U.S. in the seven years he’s been here. 

Ousseni hopes his family can someday come to Stanford and watch a match or attend his graduation. Someday, when he’s a pro, perhaps he can bring them closer, and they can be together again.

BOUDA IMMEDIATELY BROUGHT flair and skill to Stanford soccer. He was named 2019 Pac-12 Freshman of the Year and helped the Cardinal to the College Cup, college soccer’s final four, where Stanford lost in the semifinals. An injury forced Bouda out of the 2020-21 COVID-delayed season, but he says he’s fully healthy once again. 

Bouda’s easy to spot on the pitch. His touch is exquisite and his ability to read the game and anticipate the action make Bouda seem as if he’s playing on a different plane. His set pieces -- free kicks and corners – just look different. They rise high and loop and spin, creating chaos in their wake. 

In a September 6 victory over UC Santa Barbara, Bouda pressured an opponent into making a bad pass in the midfield, turned and found space on the right wing. He controlled a pass with one touch and sent a perfect centering ball amidst four defenders to Zach Ryan, who first-timed it into the net. That sequence was Bouda in a nutshell.

On the Stanford bench and celebrating with teammates was Kwabena Kwakwa, a freshman midfielder from Ghana and another Right to Dream alum. The Bouda influence …  

As a child, there were times Ousseni saw Burkina Faso soccer stars around town, with their fancy cars and nice clothes. Sometimes, those players would wind up on the Ouagadougou dirt fields, trying to regain glory as broken down former pros with nowhere else to turn. 

Bouda wants to change the narrative. He has played for Burkina Faso on the under-20 national team, and looks toward the day he can join the senior squad and use his influence for the better, as he promised. Maybe he could build schools, or provide cleaner drinking water. Soccer may be life, but life is not confined to the pitch. 

“I used to think, I just want to do well, help my family, help my mom, make her proud and that’s it,” he said. “Now, I realize what doing well means. I can do better than what I used to think, especially being in two types of worlds. 

“My eyes were opened at Right to Dream. They made me realize that I have such huge potential and I should not be afraid to say it and know it. Not be afraid to think it. Not be afraid to attack it. Not be afraid to dream bigger.

“That’s the mentality I have now. I can go beyond my family. I can impact my community. I can impact the whole country. I can impact the whole continent. I can impact the whole world.”  

Gunn agrees: “I absolutely believe he can.”

Bouda said, “The reason I’m still here and in school is because I feel there’s much more to me. I’m more than just a soccer player. I want to make sure I make use of all my potential. I want kids to see that and realize they can do it themselves.” 

On the Right to Dream campus, there is a wall outlined with a world map, with photos of current academy players bunched underneath. On the map itself, action photos of alumni are scattered on the map -- throughout Africa, Europe, and the United States. 

Bouda has no doubt that 11-year-olds stop in front of that board, look at his photo, way up high, and dream.  

“I know it because I was one of those kids,” Bouda said. “I used to be them.

“I looked at that wall with all the pictures and names, hoping mine would be there someday, that I would get moved from the list of people at the academy to somewhere else in the world. 

“I know exactly what it feels like.”

And he knows exactly the responsibility it carries -- to be the example, to be a new kind of soccer player.

To dream bigger.