The ball rolled over uneven ground, kicking up clouds of dust with every touch. The field was nothing more than an abandoned space between two buildings in Kinshasa, marked out with stones, bags, and worn-out shoes.
— Pass! a breathless boy shouted.
She didn't.
Her gaze was fixed straight ahead, focused, almost cold. She accelerated, her foot glued to the ball as if they were one and the same. A sharp feint. Another. The defender slipped. The second tried to shove her aside, but she held her ground, planted her left foot, and struck.
The ball ended its run in the improvised corner of the goal.
Silence.
Then anger exploded.
— That's rigged! — She can't play like that! — She's a girl, it's impossible!
Aïna calmly picked up her bag. She was sixteen, her hair tied up hastily, her knees marked by years of falls. She had learned very early that winning was never enough when you were a girl on a boys' field.
— You lost, she said simply.
— Come back when you're a boy! someone shouted behind her.
She didn't turn around.
---
At home, football was never a neutral subject.
— You're late again, her mother sighed as she walked in. — I had training… — With who? Those boys again?
Her father looked up from his newspaper.
— Aïna, the school year isn't over. You're supposed to move up next year, you need to focus. — I do work. — You do the bare minimum.
She didn't argue. It was true. Her grades were average—never disastrous, never outstanding. Football took up a space no one wanted to give it.
— At your age, her mother added more gently, you should think about your future. Women's football doesn't feed anyone here. Aïna lowered her eyes. — It's a sport. — Not a priority, her father cut in.
---
Two days later, on her way home from school, Aïna slowed down in front of a lit storefront. A screen was playing announcements, advertisements, local news.
Then one image froze her in place.
A modern poster, clean, almost foreign to the dusty street.
> PROJECT ATHENA
Women's Football Academic Center
Shaping the elite. Redefining the game.
National recruitment – candidates aged 16 to 17
Education + high-level football
No mention of the number of spots.
No easy promises.
Just a clear message.
Aïna's heart started pounding.
A school.
A real one.
Not an improvised club. Not an abandoned field.
She went home without playing that evening.
---
She waited until dinner to talk about it.
— I saw a school today, she said. A football school.
Silence fell.
— Again? — It's not a club. It's an academy. In Nairobi, Kenya.
Her father frowned.
— Nairobi? Another city? Another country? — They offer an integrated academic program.
Her mother slowly set down her spoon.
— Aïna… the school year isn't even finished. You want to change schools now? — It's an opportunity.
— And if you fail? her father asked. — I won't fail. — No one knows that in advance.
The discussion lasted for hours.
Her parents talked about safety, money, reputation.
She talked about dreams, discipline, hard work.
— You already support me, she said, her voice trembling. Let me prove this isn't a whim.
Finally, her father sighed.
— You can send an application. A letter. Nothing more.
It was all she needed to hear.
---
She spent the night writing.
A simple letter. Honest.
She talked about her love for football.
About training with boys.
About her desire to learn—not just to play.
She attached a video, filmed on a dusty field, with no editing, no music. Just her and the ball.
When she clicked send, her hands were shaking.
---
The days that followed were the longest of her life.
Day 1: nothing.
Day 2: nothing.
She started telling herself it was too late.
That her name was buried among hundreds of others.
Then, on the third morning, an email arrived.
> Official Invitation – Selection Phase
Please present yourself at the Project Athena campus in Nairobi.
She stood still.
Her parents drove her there themselves.
---
The campus was enormous, modern, almost intimidating. White buildings, pristine fields, military-like organization.
At reception, a man explained calmly:
— Here, nothing is guaranteed. Candidates will be evaluated, eliminated, reassigned, or sent home. — And if she fails? her mother asked anxiously. — She will continue her studies elsewhere.
Before leaving, her father pulled her aside.
— Make us a promise. — What kind? — If you're eliminated… you quit football.
Aïna felt her heart tighten.
— Okay.
But in her mind, another promise was already burning.
To become the best.
And to prove that this dream was not a mistake.
She entered the building alone.
Not knowing how many girls there were.
Not knowing what awaited her.
Project Athena had just begun.