UPDATED: Nov. 10 at 1:08 p.m.

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aschal Chukwu watched in awe as a high school girls’ basketball scrimmage paced up and down the court.

The 15-year-old had never seen a game that organized, with referees, bleachers and a wooden surface. He forgot, if only for a couple minutes, that he needed a family.

He sat over 5,000 miles from his hometown of Enugu, Nigeria. All he had in Stamford, Connecticut, was a brown nylon windbreaker, an undershirt, white capris, a pair of socks, open-toed sandals, Converse sneakers and a backpack. He didn’t know where he’d sleep that night.

Dave Caputo, Chukwu’s legal guardian at the time, wanted Chukwu to live with him in nearby Port Chester, New York, but didn’t have the means to house him anymore.

Several days after settling on Trinity Catholic High School, then-school president Joe Quinn accompanied Chukwu into the gym that day. His goal: find a family that would take in this 7-foot-2 teenager while knowing next to nothing about him.

“He had no place to go, really,” Trinity Catholic head coach Mike Walsh said.

It was Chukwu’s third stop on his tour of schools, and two months of the school year had already passed. He grew tired of looking and chose Trinity Catholic. Blissfully ignorant to everything around him, Chukwu had no idea where he was headed when he left.

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n Enugu, the Chukwu’s hoop consisted of rebar with a slab of wood pinned to the top. When the ball hit the makeshift backboard, the wood often shifted out of place.

Chukwu and his younger brother Emmanuel built the hoop themselves and played on gravel outside their house. They lived in a three-bedroom apartment in a housing compound while their tenant lived in a backyard shed.

Emmanuel, 19, came to the United States in 2011 and is Paschal’s only biological family member in the U.S. When they’re together, they reminisce over the “ghetto,” as Paschal calls it, that surrounded them in Enugu, but the safe haven they had in close quarters.

“Although he has family members here, like his host family, I’m like someone he grew up with,” Emmanuel said, “someone he can connect back to that African roots with.”

Paschal is primed for a breakout season as the tallest player in Syracuse history. He’ll anchor the middle of the 2-3 zone when he’s on the court, a task he yearned for last season when sitting out following his transfer from Providence.

Just six years ago, though, a future in Division I basketball was a pipe dream.

Paschal first came to the U.S. in the summer of 2009 for a basketball camp in Atlanta. The best players from Africa were chosen to stay. At the time, he had never consistently played basketball. Paschal estimates 60 players attended and 50 made the cut. He wasn’t one of them.

Paschal’s coach in Nigeria, Alex Owoicho, arranged for him to fly to the U.S. for good in November 2010. The plan was to stop in Ethiopia, continue to Washington, D.C. and grab a connecting flight to Florida. Paschal’s I-20, a “certificate of eligibility for nonimmigrant student status,” placed him at Westlake Prep School in Cooper City, Florida.

Owoicho didn’t tell Paschal who would pick him up at the airport, only that someone would recognize him because of his height and that Paschal should go with them. A new life awaited, but a naive 15-year-old didn’t know what it entailed.

Before Paschal left, he gave Emmanuel 500 naira, Nigeria’s currency, equivalent to $1.59 in the U.S. The brothers embraced and Paschal said goodbye. Emmanuel didn’t know when or if he’d see his brother again.

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Instead of Chukwu catching his connecting flight to Florida, he left Dulles International Airport in Caputo’s car bound for New York.

Owoicho knew Caputo personally, and improvised that plan because he wanted Chukwu in familiar hands.

When Chukwu didn’t show at Westlake, the school contacted him via Facebook, concerned for his safety and angry that he was nowhere close. They repeatedly messaged Chukwu and eventually he ignored them. Chukwu remembers being told police searched for him in Washington, D.C. He called Owoicho, concerned and confused. Owoicho told Chukwu not to worry.

“The problem is, I had no clue, didn’t want to know what was going on,” Chukwu said. “I’m like a nonchalant person … so I just forgot about it and just lived my life.”

Chukwu wanted to settle into a high school. He visited South Kent School in Connecticut and Saint Benedict’s Preparatory School in New Jersey. Neither appealed to him, and he chose the small private school in southwestern Connecticut.

Caputo said he negotiated with Westlake to alter Chukwu’s I-20 so he could legally attend Trinity Catholic. Chukwu lived in Port Chester with Caputo and the trip from Caputo’s house to Trinity Catholic took about 20 minutes. Now, a shy 7-foot-2 teenager tried to blend in at a new school where all he did was stand out.

As Chukwu walked into the gym on that early November afternoon, Jen Featherston played in her first game since tearing her ACL a year before. Jen’s mom, Sheila, worked with the school’s parent teacher association and Quinn knew the family fairly well from his two months as school president.

While the scrimmage occupied Chukwu’s attention, Quinn approached the Featherston’s father.

Hey, I need to talk to you.

“That night, we ended up taking him home with us,” John Featherston said, “because he had no place to stay.”

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nside the local Big & Tall luxury clothing store, Chukwu towered over John and spoke in a whisper.

Could I get shoes?

Before heading home with the Featherstons, Chukwu added a second set of clothing to adhere to Trinity Catholic’s dress code — a blazer, khakis, button-down shirt and, lastly, a pair of dress shoes. The Featherstons heard him giggling in the dressing room while trying on clothes that were vastly different from anything he’d ever worn.

On the ride home, Chukwu remained silent in the back seat of John’s Audi A6. Chukwu knew nothing about the family whose home he’d sleep in or how long he’d be there. That night, Sheila cooked chicken and rice since it was one of Chukwu’s favorite meals in Nigeria. Even if it was going to be only one night, the Featherstons wanted Chukwu to feel at home.

“We were just hopefully doing the right thing,” John said.

Chukwu stayed in Ray Featherston’s room but barely spoke (Ray is now a freshman walk-on for Syracuse). Chukwu slept with the lights on because he was nervous and struggled to establish a consistent sleep schedule with a five-hour time difference between Nigeria and Connecticut. It took only a week for Chukwu to call Sheila “mom,” but he wasn’t as comfortable outside the house.

The Featherstons visited New York City for Thanksgiving in 2010, and Chukwu became the center of photo shoots on the streets. Every time someone asked his height, Ray answered. Eventually, the Feathertson sisters yelled at strangers to leave him alone. One time, Chukwu caused a minor accident when he turned left without the right-of-way. Police officers asked him to pose for a picture after they were done at the scene.

“At the beginning, he did not like that one bit and he would kind of look away and not acknowledge,” Sheila said. “We had to teach him that, ‘You are different. You are gonna get the looks.”

After school on Fridays, Jen drove Chukwu 20 minutes to Rye, New York, so he could play for the AAU team Caputo was associated with. Chukwu stayed there until Sunday night, when Jen brought him home in time for school the next morning. Chukwu hated playing basketball for two full days.

During the week, John sat down with Chukwu at the kitchen bar and went through his grades, comparing them to NCAA requirements. The Featherstons taught him how to shake hands and look someone in the eye at social gatherings. Family competitions in table tennis and the FIFA soccer video game cultivated a sense of family for Chukwu even though the Featherstons still weren’t his legal guardians.

“I always wanted a little brother and then I got Paschal,” Ray said. “And I was like, ‘Wow, this is even cooler than a little brother.’”

Chukwu told Ray he wanted to play in the NBA, but Ray said it wasn’t possible. Chukwu struggled to make a layup or even dunk on the Featherston’s real-size indoor basketball hoop.

During his first varsity game with Trinity, the referee repeatedly told Chukwu to “get out.” At the next timeout, he asked his coach why the referee wanted him out of the game, when the referee was just warning Chukwu about a three-second violation.

He gradually assimilated to a new life off the court while his interest in basketball dwindled. Chukwu still had the Featherstons, but even that faded.

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ears streamed down Chukwu’s face as he packed his bags.

Just several days prior, John Featherston received a phone call from a man named Derrik Riullano, who said he was assuming guardianship of Chukwu. Chukwu’s biological father signed off on the switch, the only signature needed to make the change official, but Riullano said Chukwu could still live with the Featherstons.

Now, Riullano was calling again to tell John that Chukwu had to move out without explanation. Ray, distraught, stood on a side table so he could reach a window to watch Chukwu leave after his four-month stay. The Featherstons couldn’t do anything about it and neither could a sobbing Chukwu. Riullano declined comment for this story.

The Featherstons didn’t know if he would ever return. They feared for his grades and college eligibility. He had already lived in two different homes and was thrust into yet another unfamiliar environment.

Riullano, according to Chukwu, didn’t have the means to house him and sent Chukwu to live with a friend named Paul Staubi in Rye. Chukwu took the local train to Stamford, where he bussed to school. He was late almost every day because of the long commute and Quinn was afraid Chukwu would fail out.

He played for AAU teams he doesn’t remember the names of — ones that temporarily needed a 7-foot-2 presence. While he lived with Staubi, Chukwu said he was not permitted to talk with the Featherstons.

“I wasn’t happy in a way,” Chukwu said. “They cut off my communication with them and everything.”

Staubi said in a Facebook message that Chukwu had a cell phone to call the Featherstons on and was given the necessities he needed while living in Rye.

In mid-April, Chukwu finally texted Sheila.

Mom, can I talk to you?

The two met in a classroom at Trinity Catholic. In mid-May, Chukwu’s biological father signed off on one more switch. The Featherstons allowed him to finish the AAU season in July before he moved in with them for good.

“He wasn’t 7’2” that day,” said Quinn, who drove an ecstatic Chukwu from Rye back to the Featherstons. “He was almost 8’3” because he was walking off the ground.”

The Featherstons placed Chukwu on a Connecticut-based AAU team with Ray. Head coach Dan Donnelly, who coached Chukwu in 2011 and 2012, was the first to teach him Xs and Os and make him feel like part of a team.

When Chukwu did dribbling drills, everyone did, even though they were all fundamentally superior. It made Chukwu feel like he mattered, and he bought in.

He transferred to Fairfield Prep in Connecticut for his last two years of high school, and that’s where he finally started to have fun playing basketball. Chukwu solidified his academic standing to ensure college eligibility.

“The Featherstons…they really saved him,” Syracuse head coach Jim Boeheim said. “They really gave him stability.”

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hukwu and Chinonso Obokoh embraced and began talking in their native language.

To Syracuse assistant coach Mike Hopkins, the two resembled long-lost brothers reunited when they met on Chukwu’s unofficial visit to Syracuse two summers ago.

Chukwu won’t elaborate on why he transferred from Providence after one year and chose SU, but he does heavily credit Obokoh, the former Orange center. The two are from the same Nigerian tribe, and Obokoh made Chukwu comfortable with yet another move.

On a personal level, Chukwu adapted to change like he had multiple times before. Now he needed to transform as a player. At one preseason practice last year, he lowered the ball below his neck and had it stolen. Boeheim yelled at Chukwu that he had 13 months to figure it out.

Chukwu couldn’t travel with the team or dress for home games last season because of NCAA transfer rules. During away games, he watched intently in his South Campus apartment and envisioned himself in certain situations. When he jumped up in tense moments, he nearly hit his head on the ceiling.

His offensive repertoire is a work in progress, but a 7-foot-2 presence in the middle of the zone defense is something Syracuse has never had.

“He’s had some really good days in practice,” Boeheim said, “but he’s got a lot of work to do.”

This season is Chukwu’s next test. He has never shied away from an obstacle, because just getting to this point has been one.

“It’s the courage, being able to adapt,” Hopkins said. “I think all those experiences will just help him get to where he’s gotta get, to where he wants to get.”

Chukwu wants to eventually make enough money playing basketball to bring his family to the U.S., but a visit home isn’t an option at this point because of violence in Nigeria. His home in Connecticut for the better part of six years now is a luxury compared to the three-bedroom apartment in Enugu.

The Featherstons have an immense yellow house with a pristine patio behind it. Inside, a slim white door opens to a spiral metal staircase that leads to an indoor basketball court. The house is tucked in the back-right corner of a private road away from the commotion of traffic.

His life in Connecticut, let alone his basketball career at Syracuse, is hardly what Chukwu envisioned when he stepped off the plane in Washington D.C. six years ago. When he didn’t know who would call his name. When he didn’t know where he was going. When he just went along with it, because that was his only option.

He struggles to muster the words to describe what it means to be sitting in a state-of-the-art practice facility half a world away from the gravel courts of Nigeria.

But he’s here now. And if the past is any indication, there’s no telling what’s next.

CLARIFICATION: In a previous version of this article, it was stated unclearly that Paschal Chukwu was not permitted to communicate with the Featherstons while living in Rye with Paul Staubi. Staubi said in a Facebook message that Chukwu had a cell phone to call the Featherstons on and was given the necessities he needed while living in Rye.

Banner photo by Jessica Sheldon | Photo Editor