Teen Sprinter Runs Toward a Bigger Goal

By Jenifer James

At just 18, sprinter Umnia Emmanuel Moses is pursuing more than her own victories. She plans to launch an athletics club in Juba that will welcome athletes from all backgrounds, especially refugees, offering them not just training but also mentorship and a genuine sense of belonging.

In the bustling streets of Juba, where market stalls thrive and motorcycle horns fill the air, 18-year-old Umnia finds her peace not in quiet corners but in the rhythmic pounding of the track.

Umnia’s ambitions extend beyond personal achievements. She aims to establish an athletics club that will embrace young athletes from all walks of life, particularly refugees, providing them with training, mentorship, and a sense of belonging.

“It’s not just about winning medals anymore; it’s about creating a space where others can dream, just like I did.”

As an urban refugee and emerging athlete, she has learned to sprint not just through finish lines but also through the barriers life has placed in her path.

It’s a chilly evening at Bulluk Playground. The sun has dipped low, casting a golden hue across the red dirt track. Dressed in a faded tracksuit and worn-out sneakers, Umnia ties her laces with the focus of a champion. This is her sanctuary.

“Running makes me feel like I belong somewhere,” she says softly, her breath visible in the crisp air. “Even when everything else is uncertain, the track is always there for me.”

Umnia competes in the 100-metre and 200-metre sprints, as well as the high jump—disciplines that demand speed, strength, and relentless training. Over the past three years, her commitment has borne fruit: two trophies and more than a dozen medals now decorate the modest room she shares with her family.

But it hasn’t always been this way.

“When I first came to Juba, I didn’t know what my future would look like,” she recalls. “I was just trying to survive.”

As an urban refugee, her life has been marked by instability, financial struggles, limited access to education, and the constant weight of uncertainty. Training facilities are scarce, and the few that exist lack basic resources. Still, Umnia runs.

“There are days I train without proper shoes,” she admits. “I’ve even borrowed spikes from other athletes just to compete.”

Despite the hardships, she has never lost sight of her dream. If anything, the challenges have made her more determined.

“People underestimate us because we’re refugees, but we have talent, we have heart, and we have stories worth hearing.”

Athletics remains one of the most underfunded sports in South Sudan, often overshadowed by football. Yet, grassroots athletes like Umnia continue to carry the torch with little recognition.

For Umnia, the support of her peers has often proven more valuable than material resources.

“There were times I almost gave up,” she confesses. “But my teammates encouraged me. They reminded me why I started.”

Even her family, once sceptical about her athletic pursuits, has slowly come around.

“At first, they didn’t understand; they thought sport was a waste of time. But now, when they see my medals, they smile. They’re proud.”