He lost his leg as a child. Then he crossed one of the world’s deadliest migration routes

Image Description: A person tying the laces of a football boot on a single leg, set against an open grassy field. A worn football rests nearby, slightly sunken into the ground.

Buea, Cameroon (Minority Africa) — In July 2006, Fon Dieudonne’s dreams of playing football were seemingly buried with his detached right leg, which a certain Dr Poly in the Saint John of God Hospital in Nguti, southwest Cameroon, handed to his mother in a carton to be buried.

The surgical procedure—and the sight of his leg lying lifeless in a miserable carton—would go on to haunt him for years. “I was traumatised, and each time I came across a carton, it reminded me of my leg,” he says.

This marked the beginning of a long struggle that eventually pushed Dieudonne to contemplate travelling to the United States through Mexico in search of better opportunities and an escape from conflict.

Born on 10 April 1992 in Guzang, a small village in Cameroon’s northwest region, Dieudonne, like any child, had dreams — foremost among them becoming a footballer. He played as a right-footed attacking midfielder. He vividly remembers his childhood football days: “We used to play in the rain,” he recalls, “barefoot, and those moments were priceless to me.”

Against his mother’s wish, he would sneak out of the house to join friends on the field.  Sometimes, he even skipped school to play. “I was always in the field,” he jokes.

In 2000, he sustained third-degree burns on his right leg after a kerosene spill while trying to light a lantern during a blackout — an incident that changed his life.

“While I was struggling to light the lamp,” he recounts, “kerosene spilt on my trousers. When I lit the splinter with fire, my trousers caught fire, and that is how I sustained severe burns.”  

His family underestimated the injury, but it soon put an end, at least temporarily, to his childhood dream of football.

“I had to drop out of school as a result of the burns, and more so, I couldn’t play football again,” he recalls.

Initially, the burns were treated at the hospital and appeared to have healed, but Dieudonne’s family could not afford ongoing medical care. A recurring wound persistently developed on his leg, healing and reappearing, eventually progressing into a more serious condition—elephantiasis—marking a turning point in the life of the promising young footballer. 

“My family did not have the resources to take me to the hospital for proper treatment, so the elephantiasis was being treated by traditional healers,” he explains. Despite their efforts, the leg worsened. “Because of this, I was taken to the hospital, but…” he pauses, taking a deep breath, “…it was too late, and amputation was the only option.” 

“My childhood friends avoided me, and I was always viewed as a burden,” he says. “They would throw slangs at me, and it made me feel less of a human.”

His misery piled on when his father—who had three wives—died in 2004. His father had 17 children, and Dieudonne was the fourth of his mother’s six.

After the amputation, it took time for him to adapt to using only his left leg. “I am doing well now, given that I am used to playing with just one foot — the weak one,” he says.

 

Adulthood and the Anglophone Crisis

Dieudonne faced discrimination not only as a person with disability but also as an Anglophone in a predominantly Francophone country. Despite this, he was determined to succeed in Cameroon, partly as a form of defiance against a system he felt institutionalised discrimination, and partly to inspire his peers.

Before the outbreak of the Anglophone Crisis in 2016, he had established an electronics accessories shop in Guzang to support his family. By then, he had a wife, a daughter, and an ageing mother suffering from cerebral malaria. “I was also selling fuel, which was supplied from neighbouring Nigeria,” he reveals.

Given his desire for a large family— though not through polygamy like his father—the shop was meant to guarantee stability and a better future for his children.

However, the escalating armed conflict forced him and his family to flee to Bamenda, the capital of one of the affected regions, in 2017.

A Human Rights Watch report reveals that more than 20 people living with disabilities were killed between 2016 and 2019 by government forces in the Anglophone regions. Dieudonne could well have been among them had he not relocated. 

 The conflict, rooted in Anglophone grievances over marginalisation by the Francophone-dominated government, has caused thousands of deaths and displaced hundreds of thousands since it began in September 2016. It later morphed into a secessionist movement, with Anglophone militias fighting to create a breakaway state called Ambazonia.

It is one of the lingering remnants of Cameroon’s troubled colonial past. After Germany’s defeat in WWI, Cameroon was partitioned between Britain and France. The two territories existed side by side until 1961, when part of British Cameroons, to the southeast of Nigeria, reunified with French Cameroon in a UN-supervised plebiscite, while the other part, to the northwest of Cameroon, chose to join Nigeria.

Cameroon has since struggled to forge an identity transcending its colonial heritage, with British and French cultures often clashing —  “a union of water and oil,” as some English-speaking Cameroonians say. 

 “We lost our business and almost everything we have ever worked for,” says Njeck Laura, Duedonne’s wife, who was 18 when the conflict started.

 

Out of home in a strange land

Life in Bamenda was difficult for the family due to financial struggles. Before the conflict, they earned around XAF 200,000 (USD 331) in monthly profit. In Bamenda, they survived almost entirely on the generosity of strangers. 

They could not even afford the monthly $8 rent for their tiny room, which could barely fit a bed. “Life was so difficult for us,” Laura says, nearly in tears. “I felt the world was against us and I was always in tears.” Their hardships nearly broke them, but they persisted, hoping against hope.  

It was during this period that Dieudonne seriously began tinkering with the idea of travelling to the US through Mexico.

“I wanted a place where I would be safe, a place where I would be able to achieve my dreams and help my family and community,” says the  32-year-old father of three.  

Despite his struggles, he never abandoned football. He trained regularly with other amputee players in town – and it paid off. In 2019, he was selected to represent Cameroon in Angola at the Cup of African Nations for Amputee Football (CANAF).

“I was selected again to represent Cameroon in 2021 in Tanzania, but I couldn’t since I was participating in a reality TV show in Cameroon,” he recalls.

When the reality show ended, Dieudonne resumed planning for his relocation abroad. One of his inspirations was Francis Ngannou. “Francis Ngannou was my biggest inspiration and the reason I nursed the idea of going to America through Mexico,” he says.  “He made me believe that everything was possible when you have the will. If Ngannou could make it, why not me?”  

Ngannou, the former UFC heavyweight champion, had travelled from Cameroon to France through the Mediterranean in search of greener pastures.

Dieudonne’s plan was straightforward: “My plan was to travel from Nigeria to Mexico and eventually to America, as some of my friends had done before”

He knew the risks associated with the journey. In 2022 alone, about 750 migrants died at the US-Mexico border. He also knew of those who perished in the Mediterranean. None of this, however, deterred him. 

But he did not have the necessary finances to fund his journey. He had to risk the only piece of land he inherited from his father to get the money he needed. 

In recent years, more Cameroonians have taken this route. According to the Migration Policy Institute, apprehensions of African Migrants at and between points of entry to the US peaked at about 5,000 in 2019, with Cameroonians among the most frequently encountered by the US and Mexican border officials between 2015 and 2019. Incidentally, the Anglophone crisis began in 2016 and later escalated in 2017. 

“I gave the only property I inherited from my late father as collateral to obtain a loan of XAF 2 million (about $3,335) from a microfinance,” he says. From April 2022, he had 24 months to repay it. “I knew I could lose my only property, and that is why this journey was a do or die for me.” 

Earlier, in March 2021, Dieudonne had travelled to Nigeria with friends who had similar aspirations to obtain Mexican visas, hoping to fly off from there. “We spent seven months in Nigeria but couldn’t get the visa because the Mexican Embassy in Abuja was closed for that period,” he says. 

Running out of cash, he returned to Cameroon in October 2022 to strategise.

By mid-October of the same year, he was at Douala International Airport for another try — this time to Cuba, intending to continue onward. “This was not the usual migrant route, but I had no choice,” he says. The Cuban visa was easier to obtain than visas to Mexico or other Latin American countries. 

 “When I received the ‘last’ kiss from my husband at the airport, I had mixed feelings,” Laura recalls.  “I was, however, still convinced that he was going to make it to the US.”

 From Cuba, Dieudonne took a boat to Suriname, then continued to Guyana, and from there flew to São Paulo, Brazil. Upon stepping out of his hotel, he was robbed of $1,500 and other valuables. This was part of the loan he had taken. 

 “I was prepared for the worst and was not ready to go back no matter what,” he says. “ I knew my friends in and out of Cameroon would help me.” 

 From late October 2022 to January 2023, he stayed in Brazil, then moved through Peru, Ecuador, and finally Necoclí, a coastal town in northern Colombia. It was at Necoclí that the haunting thoughts of migrants drowning in the Mediterranean resurfaced.

 “We had to cross to Capurganá by a speedboat, 60 of us,” he says. Capurganá, another coastal town in northern Colombia, is the principal landing point of migrants entering the Darién Gap into Panama. 

 

In the jungle

The Darién Gap, a stretch of mountainous jungle and swamp between Colombia and Panama, loomed ahead. It is known to be one of the world’s most dangerous migration routes, due to its treacherous terrain, dangerous wildlife and presence of criminal groups. 

Just as Dieudonne was about to enter the 100-mile expanse, his phone buzzed incessantly with a barrage of WhatsApp messages. 

“I received photos and videos of dead people in the Darién Gap,” he says. “People with two legs.” The images came with a warning.   

The warning said: “Please don’t dare enter this forest. If these people with two legs could die, how sure are you that you are going to make it…?”

The images were sent by fellow Cameroonians who had abandoned him in Brazil due to his disability, urging him to return home. They had spent four months in Brazil together. 

“We had agreed to move together, but they left São Paulo without telling me,” he says, bitterly.  Still, they remained in contact, warning him of what lay ahead. 

“I was a bit frightened, but I had no intentions of going back again,” he says.

The journey on foot through the Darién Gap was extremely challenging. “I climbed steep mountains and crossed rivers that went a little bit above my chest —on foot,” he says.

Given that Dieudonne could not keep pace with other migrants, he was always far behind, alone. “It was scary for me,” he says. “I frequently came across dead human bodies. I was afraid that I would be robbed or killed by gangs operating in this jungle.” 

He had carefully hidden the little money he had in the soles of his shoes. “The only time I met with migrants was always in the night when we were camping, so I had to be very careful.”

At one point,  he paid a porter $20 to carry his bag because he was exhausted. In the Darién Gap, however, the “mafia,” as the porters are known, took both the money and the bag, never to be seen again.

“My leg was swollen and my hands had developed blisters,” he says. The stolen bag contained important documents (birth certificate, school certificates), food, a tent, and medication.

Letting out a sigh, as though still in the jungle, he says, “Thank God my passport was not in the bag.”  

His passport and mobile phone became symbols of hope as he pressed on, accustomed now to seeing corpses almost daily. “It could be me [next],” he says —a dark joke.

Amid the despair,  help came in the form of 28-year-old Joel Blaise, a compassionate soul from Haiti. Blaise and Dieudonne met in the jungle and bonded over a shared determination to reach the US.  

“I felt sorry for him when his bag was stolen,” Blaise says. “He could not communicate with me well, given the language barrier, but I knew exactly what he needed – help.” He selflessly shared his food and tent with Dieudonne for nine days until they reached Panama

 

Hope on the horizon

From Panama, Dieudonne traversed through four more countries before arriving in Mexico via Guatemala. He was alone by then, having parted ways with the others, including Blaise. He journeyed across Mexico to Tijuana, the border town south of California.

“What stood between America and me was just the frontier fence,” he says. But it was not only the fence. Border officers refused to let him in. “My condition did not move them,” he says. 

Driven by sheer determination, he slipped away under the cover of darkness and made his way to Mexicali, another border city 146 km away.  On 16 February 2023, he burst into tears as he stepped onto US soil. “We were later detained by the border police, but that didn’t matter to me since I was already in the US,” he says. 

“I was full of joy when he informed me he had made it to the US,” Laura says. “Given that I had lost communication with him, I thought he had died.”

“From then I knew our lives would never be the same again,” she adds. 

After more than 12 arduous months, Dieudonne now lives freely in the US. While juggling various activities, he has not abandoned his football ambitions. He trains with the US amputee team and has penned a poignant book chronicling his journey. 

Although he now has a US Green Card, he worries about fellow Cameroonians who fled the armed conflict but have not yet secured permanent status, especially with Donald Trump’s return.

In April 2022, the Biden administration granted 40,000 Cameroonians temporary protection, allowing them to stay and work in the US until June 2025. 

In July 2025, the Trump administration won a federal appeals court ruling allowing it to end Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for over 5,000 Cameroonians. 

“I do not feel indifferent about the plight of Cameroonian immigrants who face deportation because I am also an immigrant,” Dieudonne says. “I wish the present government could extend their stay in the US.” 

Dieudonne plans to bring his wife and three children to the US to join him in living the American dream he chased for more than a year. 

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Edited/Reviewed by Samuel Banjoko, Caleb Okereke, PK Cross, Awom Kenneth, and Uzoma Ihejirika.

Illustrated by Rex Opara.