Overcoming the odds: How the Bumba family found peace and hope in America

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St. Thomas More had just defeated South Beloit 58-38 in a battle of unbeatens to move to 6-0 on the 2023 high school football season.

While celebrating with his teammates in the locker room, senior Peace Bumba pulled up a video on his phone of his older brother, Adonai, getting his first collegiate interception that same day. He showed it to his coach, Nathan Watson, who then remembered to send a text to their mother, Jeanine.

Peace had just rushed for 343 yards and five touchdowns after being sick all week — Watson compared it to Michael Jordan's "Flu Game" with the Chicago Bulls in the 1997 NBA Finals — and Watson wanted to let his mom know what her son had just accomplished.

Jeanine's response made Watson smile.

"I'm really in tears now seeing how God is faithful and watching my boys," Jeanine texted back. "The fruits of my womb make me known by the grace of the Almighty for just a poor woman coming from a dark place of the world."

The summer before this football season, Peace, Adonai and the oldest Bumba brother, Djogi, attended a Rise & Fire football camp in Wheaton. Peace got the attention of some college scouts with his performance, and as soon as his mom heard the news, his phone was ringing.

"My mom called me after that, crying, and said, 'I'm so proud of you guys. I came to America with nobody knowing me, but people know my babies,'" Peace recalled. "From that day forward, I was like, 'Yeah, I've got to win for my mama.' That's who I do it for. I can't make all the sacrifices she made for nothing."

The following month, during The News-Gazette's football media day, Watson offered a suggestion.

"The Bumba family is a good story if you do a little work," he said.

This is their story.

'A lot of things happened in the Congo'

The Bumba family name has been alive in Champaign-Urbana since the turn of the latest millennium. Before that, it was well known throughout the Democratic Republic of the Congo in Africa.

Gen. Bumba Moaso Djogi served as a leader of the Congolese army during the Congo War in the mid-to-late 1990s. As the country became more war-torn and the government went through changes, Moaso became more of a target.

He died in 1997, the same year his son, Richard Bumba, had his first son with his wife, Jeanine. As the direct son of the former general, Richard and his family were still in danger.

The boy's name was Djogi. When Djogi was just 2 weeks old, soldiers showed up at their house. Richard wasn't home, and the soldiers started aggressively questioning Jeanine.

"They had a big gun here," Jeanine said, pointing to her head and neck area. "They thought I was hiding something in my hands, and I kept telling them, 'That's not a gun. That's my baby. That's my baby boy.'"

That moment, which Richard described as "very hard," was the deciding factor. They knew they weren't safe in Congo and had "no choice" but to leave.

Richard was the first to go. He arrived in the United States in 2000, leaving his family behind for the time being, and first settled in Champaign-Urbana. He found an apartment in the Colony West complex off Windsor Road and Prospect Avenue, but he was about to face many challenges.

First and foremost, the language barrier. Richard spoke mostly French in Congo, and he didn't understand much English. So, not only was he alone without his family, but he felt completely isolated with no one to communicate.

This made it hard for Richard to find what he needed. He had a roof over his head but not much else. He didn't have a mattress, so he slept on the floor. He didn't have a car, so he walked. He didn't have a jacket, so he suffered through the dead of winter. He didn't even know where to buy bread or get a haircut — this was when he still had hair.

"I had to figure out everything by myself," Richard said.

One day, Richard found a young man speaking French and thought, "Thank God." He was a student at the University of Illinois, and he helped answer all of Richard's questions. Before long, Richard was enrolled in an English class at Parkland College and looking for a job.

He spent nearly a year by himself before Jeanine, Djogi (then 3 years old) and their newest member of the family, 2-year-old daughter Deborah, finally joined him as refugees. But more challenges were about to arise.

The war in Congo and the stress through the whole process of moving overseas took a toll on Richard and Jeanine's relationship. They bounced around Champaign-Urbana apartments for the next few years and had two more sons, Adonai and Peace, along the way. The parents butted heads often, and it became too much at one point. Jeanine took her two youngest children and moved to Town & Country Apartments, leaving Richard and the two oldest at Sunnycrest.

"A lot of things happened in the Congo," Jeanine said. "I was just a little mad."

Djogi and Deborah's school called Jeanine one day and asked her to come pick them up. This confused Jeanine because that was her husband's responsibility. Rather than worry about that, she picked up her kids and brought them back to Town & Country, and that's where they stayed. Two or three months later, Richard joined them, asking for forgiveness.

"I used to tell everybody when I counseled young couples, 'You will never raise boys without Dad. Dad is really important in boys' lives,'" Jeanine said. "I would have never raised Djogi, Adonai and Peace without Richard. I would never be capable. First God, and then my husband."

'Football brings people together'

In 2010, the Bumbas moved into a house on East Michigan Avenue in Urbana — where they still live today — and that's when they met Nathan Watson.

At the time, Watson was the head football coach at Urbana High School, and Djogi was a year away from starting his freshman year there.

Watson also taught health at Urbana, and he'd regularly see Djogi walking the hallways by the health room, wrestling room and gymnasium. Watson recognized him from the nice family with a French accent that just moved in six to eight houses down the street. He knew Djogi was athletic from watching him in other sports, and he knew he had an outgoing personality from their friendly trash talk in the halls. Watson would ask Djogi about playing football, Djogi would insist he was a basketball player and Watson would look at his not quite 5-foot-10 stature and jokingly tell him "No, you're not."

"That's where the relationship started," Watson said. "We just hit it off."

Djogi reluctantly went out for football the next fall as a sophomore in 2012, which turned into arguably the best team in Urbana's history. Djogi fell in love with the sport and became one of the strongest leaders Watson had ever coached, with the Tigers reaching the Class 5A playoffs and winning the program's first playoff game.

Djogi went on to play at Carthage College in Wisconsin. Watson checked in with him from time to time while he had Deborah in class, and that's where he honestly thought his relationship with the Bumbas — outside of being neighbors — would end.

Shortly after the 2016 football season, Watson took a job with Midwest Prep Academy. He said he loved it and never intended to go back to high school coaching. That is, until the St. Thomas More position became available the following May. He talked with loved ones and prayed about it, and something about STM just felt right.

While Watson was making his transition, the Bumbas were in the middle of one of their own. This time, Adonai was getting ready for high school, and Djogi was trying to convince their mom to send him to STM.

"When Djogi recommended to my mom the idea of us coming to STM, she was a little skeptical about it," Peace said. "She was like, 'I don't know, that's a lot of money, da da da.' A day or two later, Djogi said, 'But Mom, Coach Watson's there.' She was like, 'Oh, Coach Watson. Yeah, let's do it.'"

Jeanine was immediately on board because she knew Watson acted as more than just a football coach.

"I call coach Watson 'Dad,'" Jeanine said. "That's the second dad of my baby boys. Every time I was struggling with my kids here, I was calling him."

Whenever the boys were acting up and their dad wasn't home, Watson would soon be on the way. He remembers one time getting a call from Jeanine because Adonai wouldn't clean his room.

"I'm in it for more than just winning games, so I was more than happy to help," Watson said. "I was like, 'Dude, I'm the head football coach of a high school. Did I really just get called over to your house because you won't clean your room?' I don't know if that's normal for head coaches to do that. For me, it's got to be more than a game because otherwise, it's not fulfilling."

Adonai said it was "alarming" to see his coach in his doorway, but he cleaned his room right afterwards.

Peace was still going to Urbana Middle School when Adonai got to STM. At first, Peace didn't like the idea of eventually following his brother to the private school in north Champaign, but he quickly changed his mind once Adonai started telling him stories and sending him videos of the football team having fun after games and on the weekends. He started to get excited about the idea, and it made him realize a change needed to happen sooner rather than later.

Peace compared his situation to "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air," as he was hanging around the wrong people at Urbana. Jeanine said he started coming home asking for specific-colored clothing, which almost sounded like gang activity to her. Luckily, Peace caught himself before it could get too far.

"He came home one day and told me, 'Mom, if you leave me at Urbana Middle School, it's going to be your fault.' I said, 'What do you mean?' He said, 'I don't want to be there anymore,'" Jeanine recalled. "I told Dad, 'We don't have anything else to do. We have to protect him.' ... If we left Peace at Urbana, maybe he never would have turned into the young, good boy he is today."

Peace attended Holy Cross, a Catholic school in Champaign, in his eighth-grade year and has been at STM for the last four. Today, he said, all the friends he had in his inner circle at Urbana are either dead or in jail.

"There's going to be a lot of people God removes from your life, but it's for a reason," Peace said, "and there's going to be a lot of people God adds to your life for a reason. It's going to help you get to where you need to be and help you grow as a person. That's what He did bringing me here (STM)."

As the younger Bumba siblings made their way through STM, Watson grew closer to the family. Djogi recently bought land and asked Watson to come teach him and his brothers how to hunt. That's tentatively planned for later this fall. Djogi also has a wife and kids now, living in Marshall, a small southeastern Illinois village roughly 90 minutes away from C-U, and Watson visited this past Labor Day.

"The more time you spend with someone, the tighter you get," Watson said. "Football brings people together. Djogi was born in the Congo. I'm born and raised in the Midwest. Completely different, but we share the same values of God, hard work, education and football. ... When you get to my age, winning games is fun, but seeing how they evolve as men is pretty awesome."

'We have an opportunity'

Watson got a new dog, a little Bernedoodle, midway through this football season, and he asked his players for name suggestions. Peace and fellow senior Robbie Vavrik looked at each other and couldn't control their laughter. They had, in their minds, the perfect name, and it's from a running joke they've had all year.

During a practice earlier in the season, sophomore running back Peter Samu, "in Peter fashion," ran the ball right into a defender. Peace leaned over to Vavrik and told him to call Samu a "zoba," which means "idiot" in the Congolese language Lingala. Since that practice, whenever Vavrik sees Samu, he yells "Zoba!"

Watson knows the story and said it's "all the more reason not to name my dog that." He settled on Howie instead.

That's just one small example of how Congolese culture has made its way into Champaign-Urbana since the Bumbas came to town.

In Congo, people view the United States as paradise.

"They literally call it 'Paradise,'" Djogi said. "Once you come to the States, you recognize that what it really is is a place of opportunity, where people have the opportunity to grow and reach the heights they want to reach as long as they put in the required effort."

That's what "shocked" the Bumbas when they first arrived overseas, but they embraced the opportunity.

Richard earned a master's degree in business administration from the University of Phoenix online and is currently a computer numerical controller operator. Jeanine got her master's degree in social work from the University of Illinois after developing a vision to help people just like her and her family.

"I had the heart to help others," Jeanine said. "I like to help people, so I said, 'Why not help those coming after me?'"

Jeanine was a journalist in Congo and interviewed many powerful people. It was because of those connections that she was able to partner with members of the U.S. government in 2008 and build a nonprofit organization called Dimension-F. Through this nonprofit, local organizations help the growing Congolese population in Champaign-Urbana as well as those still in Congo, providing medical, school and basic living supplies.

Jeanine's sister-in-law had a similar vision, and she developed her own nonprofit. She died in 2020, and the nonprofits began collaborating. They've now gotten to a point where they're hoping to open a homeless shelter soon.

"Mom gets here and sees what's going on, and she says, 'We have an opportunity here to build what we have and help those in need back home,'" Djogi said. "All of this stems from my mom and her heart and wanting to do things for people who are less fortunate. Here in the States, we recognize that we have an opportunity that many people around the world don't have."

The poor class in Congo is "vastly large" to where people struggle just to have food and water. Even police officers make "very little," which makes it hard for them to be committed to their job in their war-torn country, adding to the distress.

New Rivers Church in Marshall has started missions to build properties and renovate areas in Congo. This past March, Djogi visited Congo to preach to some of the youth in the area.

He sent a video to Peace of one interaction he had with a kid while walking down the street. Djogi was dressed in a suit with Jordans on his feet, and a group of kids couldn't take their eyes off of him.

"They were just staring at him," Peace said of his brother. "He said, 'You want these shoes? You like them?' So, Djogi took them off and gave them to the kid. They looked at Djogi like he was Michael Jordan. A lot of kids over there don't see that. They know about LeBron James and all these other guys, and that's how they see my brother because he's coming in there with a nice suit and all that."

'God is a mighty planner'

Sitting on her living room couch between her husband and youngest son with family photos hanging above their heads, Jeanine closed her eyes, wrapped her left hand around Peace's right arm and thought about the journey her family had been on the last two decades.

She thought about how it was "like yesterday" that she could lift Peace and his older siblings high into the air like it was nothing. Now 6-foot-1 and 200-plus pounds of muscle, Peace is a little too big for that, and it makes his mother smile.

"I never knew God was a mighty planner," Jeanine said. "God plans everything. When I look back, the only thing I have in my mind and my heart is 'How could you plan that journey? Out of suffering, you create something great.' God is a mighty planner, and I just say thank you to the Lord."

Smiling back at her, Peace thought about his mom's phone call after his football camp three months prior and how he keeps a chip on his shoulder for her. He didn't go through all the struggles his parents and older siblings did, but he's experienced enough to know his family is something special.

"Just hearing a lot of their stories and seeing how this family has grown with them, I've only seen this family be on the rise," Peace said. "It's just a blessing. We're not where we want to be, but we're not where we could have been. We pray every night, and every night, those prayers are answered by God. I look at the bright side of things every time, and all I see are good outcomes coming."

Listening through the speaker on Peace's cell phone, sitting on the coffee table in the middle of the room, Adonai chimed in. Like his younger brother, being born in the U.S., he didn't have the same experiences as everyone else. And like his younger brother, he sees nothing but positives ahead.

"All it did was make us stronger, build us up and keep us closer together," Adonai said of his family's hardships. "Being a strong family and staying together through those times definitely helped us stay strong today and will continue to help us be strong tomorrow."

On that same phone call, Djogi thought about how his father instilled leadership in him from an early age and how he used that to become a role model for his younger siblings.

He also thought about how his father played soccer and how his extended family would always tell him, Adonai and Peace that they played the wrong kind of football. Peace is in the process of becoming the third Bumba to play American college football, so you could say it's worked out so far.

"It's a true story of grit," Djogi said. "It doesn't matter if it's good or bad, a joyous day or a down day, you hold on to those pillars, you hold on to God and hard work and you just keep persevering. ... The story has unfolded, and God's directed us to certain places. Regardless of where and how, we've held on to God and kept true to hard work and persevering. I hope and wish that continues to be the unraveling of the story."

As for Richard, the one who laid the foundation for his family in the U.S., he's just thankful for everything that's happened since he got here.

"I started sleeping on the carpet, and today, I have a king-sized bed," Richard said with a smirk. "We always have meat on the table. The kids are growing, and everything is going well. I can't complain about it. We've been blessed."

Djogi, the guinea pig of the Bumba children who worked long nights to provide for and support his family, is now a business systems manager for Snap-on Incorporated.

Deborah, the lone daughter who had to learn English and American culture when she moved to the U.S., is now a teacher in Champaign.

Adonai, the first born after the big move, is a University of Findlay starting defensive back as a true sophomore.

Peace, the youngest who admitted it's been lonely without his siblings at home and is bound to make his parents feel the same way in a few months' time, just led STM to an undefeated regular season and the Sabers opened up the 8-man state playoffs with a 34-12 win on Saturday against Bushnell-Prairie City.

Peace has always said he owes his mom, and he's going to make it up to her. If you ask her, that's already been done.

"I can remember when they were little and I birthed them," Jeanine said of her kids with glossy eyes and a smile. "Now, I'm so proud of them. I'm so proud of them."