Home Is Where The Court Is

There’s a pickup game of three-a-side going down on Perth’s South Beach basketball court in the city of Fremantle (or Freo). It may look friendly, but the banter reveals something big is at stake: Dinner is on the losers.

“That meal’s gonna be so good, woo!” says Chris Lako, the team funny guy (and shortest player, which earns him a healthy dose of teasing).

Sebit Reath, the informal leader of the group, grins as he handles the ball. “Bro, I want a milkshake,” says the 22-year-old, who played in college on a basketball scholarship. “And you better go deep in that pocket because I’m also going to Nobu!” He has a taste for upscale Japanese cuisine.

“You ain’t getting a meal out of me, get outta here!” replies Chudier Lap, who, at 21, is one of the younger players.

“We can go to barbecue, aye?” adds Ngor Manyang, 25, one of Sebit’s teammates. Their accents are distinctly Australian, yet their inflections carry their roots. All of the men on the court are refugees from South Sudan who arrived as children in the western city of Perth.

Here, halfway around the world, they literally stand out — Sebit is 6 foot 10. But the real reason they stop spectators in their tracks is that few have seen such a high level of skill up close. The ballers are either pros or well on their way. But today, it’s about the love of the game (and food).

Sebit drives past them from the left wing toward the bucket. Net. Shirts up by 4. Time for a water break.

We swoop in to shoot the breeze with Sebit; his younger brother, Chuatwech, 19, who played for the local National Basketball League team; and Ngor to find out how this sport has given them the opportunity to connect with all the things they value most.

We talk the love of basketball, a passport to freedom and winning.

Chuatwech: I was born in Waat, South Sudan. And because of the civil war, our family moved to Australia when I was 3.

Chuatwech: Australia has played an important role in my life, and I appreciate every opportunity I’ve been given. But I will always have a connection with South Sudan, it will always be my home, and I feel a strong connection with my heritage there.

Chuatwech: It has shown me that you can’t take anything for granted and that working hard is the only option if you want to get out of a tough situation. I strive for a better future, making the change from South Sudan to Australia worth it. Hopefully one day I can go back to South Sudan and make a positive difference there for everyone.

Sebit: I feel like being really good at sports, it’s kind of like, you’re more included. I really think it brings people toward you.

Ngor: We’re like one of the tallest tribes [South Sudan’s Dinka tribe] in the world. We obviously gravitate toward basketball because it works out well for us, with our height and athleticism.

Sebit: Mainly because of my older brother. I wanted to play with him, you know? We do everything together. Basketball is one of the three pillars of my life. There’s school, family and basketball.

Chuatwech: My brothers were playing. They’d go to games on the weekend, and I wanted to play with them. So I stopped playing soccer and started playing basketball, eventually training more seriously from fourth grade on. And now I’m trying to go pro so I base my day around it; it’s basically all I think about.

Chuatwech: We’ve known each other for years — our families know each other. We just started playing together as kids. Then someone put together a team for the South Sudanese Australian National Basketball Association, the Perth Rhinos. The team shut down in 2018, but we think of this team as a continuation of that one.

Ngor: We encourage each other and it’s really built resilience within us. When we play together, we see that when one person succeeds, we all succeed. That’s what I love about playing team sports.

Sebit: Playing together confirms our friendship. Being able to argue with each other and then move on from that. It makes your friendship stronger.

Ngor: My strength would be shooting. I’m one of the most gifted shooters.

Sebit: My versatility and my height, so I can shoot it from up here.

Chuatwech: My speed and athleticism. I’m not afraid to share the ball. I like to win, so I do basically whatever I can to win.

Sebit: (Dead serious) I’d say myself.

Chuatwech: (Dead serious) My brother.

It’s back to the court, and the game gets heated. Their voices shoot across the court as quick as their passes.

“He doesn’t want to shoot it!”

“Attack the basket, bro!”

“Yo, how does it feel to be so short?”

“There y’are, show us how it’s done!”

Players on neighboring courts stop their own games and gather around to see the crew’s pro-level plays up close. The onlookers’ admiration for their skills is evidence that through basketball, these men have become local heroes.

The series of 11-point games ends 4–3, with Sebit’s team taking the win. As the MVP of the game, Sebit spends a few minutes giving pointers to some children who’ve been watching them play.

Then the team heads to the beach to cool off in the famous Fremantle breeze, locally known as the Freo Doctor because the crisp sea air provides relief from Australia’s summer heat. Down on the sand, the Freo Doctor whipping around them, they run into the waves, chasing one another, poking one another, falling down laughing.

The losing team makes a promise to the victors that they’ll take them out for burgers or ribs soon. Though winning means everything to them in the moment, it’s also not the point at all. For these guys, basketball is a communal language, a lens through which they see the world, a way to belong. Ribs are just a tasty bonus.