Different Worlds, One Game
Suspended between two worlds — Italian and Cameroonian — Paul Biligha has turned basketball into his universal language. From a dusty African court to an Umbrian borgo, and now to Derthona Basket — one of Europe’s most forward-thinking clubs — his journey speaks of roots and culture.
Interview by Overseas | Filippo Libenzi
Photography by Stefano Ponzi
An Umbrian borgo in the hills that smells of history and rain. A small court in Africa filled with dust and American dreams. Between these two places, Paul Biligha learned how to play basketball, and how to become a man.
Born in Italy to Cameroonian parents, he found, somewhere in the long path between those two identities, the quiet courage to be both. Thanks to a sport that keeps proving itself as a bridge between cultures: a language that comes before words, a grammar of footwork and post ups, teaching you to listen, to find rhythm, to trust a teammate.
Two worlds, one Game: with roots extending in opposite directions, meeting, in the end, beneath a single global jersey. It is the versatile big man of Bertram Derthona who leads us along the journey of his growth, both as a player and as a person: a multidimensional figure, already graduated in Agricultural Science, now settled in the serene Piedmontese province, a locus amoenus where he can align his forward-thinking vision with that of a club that has made progress its guiding philosophy.
Roots, Perugia, Cameroon & Back
“I think of myself as part of the first generation of children of immigrants from Central Africa. Before the 2000s, immigration to Italy was mostly for study. My father came to Perugia in 1988 on a scholarship at the Università per Stranieri; my mother joined him in the early ’90s, she was probably already pregnant with me.
I grew up in Perugia, more precisely in Villa Pitignano, the classic Umbrian borgo where everyone knows everyone. Strangely enough, I wasn’t even the only Black kid: my neighbors were two Nigerian girls, and we went to school together. As a child, I wasn’t aware of certain dynamics: I didn’t know how many Black people lived in the neighborhood, I didn’t know the challenges faced by others in my same situation elsewhere in the world. That innocent ignorance made my thinking less divisive: less ‘us versus them.’
Then Cameroon changed my vision all over again. We moved back there and, incredibly, I was and felt like the foreigner: the ‘Black but white’ kid, because I’d grown up in Europe. I had a language barrier, my French and English were poor, so in class I was closed off, not very participative. Luckily, I discovered I had a huge family: cousins, aunts, a home village. But at the same time, I saw the real economic gap: you only had to look at the cars on the street. It taught me that where you live drastically changes how you see the world.
In basketball, that helped me not to judge at first glance. Even today, when I join a team with guys from America, Estonia, or Germany, I let time tell me who they are: how they play, and how we can get better together. Living between different places trains your curiosity and your ability to suspend judgment. On the court, it means listening to a teammate, finding his rhythm, building trust. Off the court, it means recognizing that identity is often a plural word. For example, I feel Italian and Cameroonian: two worlds, one Game.”
African Buckets, American Dreams
“I started getting into basketball in Cameroon, thanks to a youth coach who worked at my middle school. He once saw me playing football (soccer) and said, ‘You have to try basketball,’ probably because of my height and build. Back then I knew who Micheal Jordan was, I even had a pair of Air Jordan my mother gave me, but I knew almost nothing about the Game.
That coach taught me everything: the basics, the fundamentals, how not to travel, how to shoot, how to move. From that moment on, improving became a full-on obsession. I dove in headfirst, and my life began to revolve around basketball. I hung out only with people who used to play; I read magazines and books to learn and understand the Game better, especially the NBA. And I tried to watch games, even if I rarely managed to. I was fascinated by that culture: the clothes, the music, the American dream.”
Educazione Italiana
“At 15 or 16, when I decided to return to Italy, my mind was set on American basketball, not the Italian Game. I ended up learning the latter more in Serie C and D (the Italian fifth and sixth leagues) than in the youth ranks. I explored a world of constant physical battles under the rim. The semi-pro and amateur culture is a completely different reality compared to the professional level. They’re two basketball worlds at opposite ends: in the lower Italian leagues, I discovered sweat, blood, and elbows. At first, it was tough, but gradually I learned where to place a leg, an arm, and how to box out. It was all about improving technically, instinctively, and tactically.
I think our Italian basketball culture deserves more pride and recognition. We’re great at wanting to emulate the Game played by Serbs, French, or Americans. But sometimes we fail to acknowledge that this is who we are: our own, specific way of living and playing. It should be put front and center, told better.
What I’d steal from the United States is the scholarship model: sports and study together. I’m in love with it. I know it’s hard to replicate in Italy. But socially, basketball here has enormous power. I think of the playgrounds, specifically a court in Milan where I train in the summer: from 9 pm to midnight you see Filipinos, African kids, Italians. It’s a free port of inclusion: you play 2v2, 3v3, you talk, you get to know each other. Years ago in Perugia we’d meet in Piazza delle Diversità: the court was bad, but there was a whole world there made by Koreans, Chinese, Filipinos. A basketball world.
These places confirm to me that basketball is one of the most inclusive sports there is. Even just the ritual of free throws to pick teams forces you to look at the other person: to see what he can do, who he is. It’s a process of discovery that I breathe every summer. And it’s a wide-open door to inclusion.”
The Art of the Intangibles
“Not long after returning to Italy, I realized there are things that earn you a green checkmark from every coach and keep you on the floor; things that don’t appear in the box score. Maybe I didn’t have Gianluca Basile’s shooting touch, but I quickly understood that if I did two or three things consistently, I stayed in the game. And let’s be honest: we all want to stay on the court as much as possible.
The real mental leap came in Ferentino with coach Gramenzi in A2, the second Italian league. He drilled into me the concept of being ‘always on’: don’t do something once and then disappear just to chase points and rebounds. It was all about consistency: play after play, possession after possession. In Cremona with Pancotto, it was the same expectation; in Venice with De Raffaele, I was brought in precisely for that; and with Ettore Messina, it was daily bread: if you weren’t consistent, you didn’t play.
Over the years, it became a habit. Becoming a father strengthened my routine even more: now, I don’t think about being consistent, I just do it. The advanced stats we have today, however imperfect, often confirm that with certain players on the floor, the team simply works better. In basketball, there is, and always will be, room to build a career on the so-called intangibles. My priority is always to make my teams perform at their best. With Tortona, for example, my only focus is to return to the playoffs: missing them last year was a wound. Playing big games in May is my sporting addiction: that’s when all the work of a season shows.”
Essere Azzurro
“Wearing the Azzurri jersey, I felt an entire country behind me. It was the most immersive experience I’ve ever had. My roots aren’t strictly Italian, but I grew up in Italy, I feel Italian, and I owe so much of who I am today to Italy. Playing those games meant a lot. We hear the national anthem in the LBA every weekend, sure, but when you hear it before a National Team game it’s different: you feel you’re doing something that goes beyond basketball, beyond yourself.
I’m passionate about Azzurri history too. I remember being a kid in front of the TV watching Sydney 2000 and Athens 2004. With the Nazionale, I wore No. 6: Giacomo Galanda number. I even once told him I’d carry his number. For me, it was a huge responsibility: I could never do what he did, but I had to honor that jersey and everyone who wore it.
It’s a trip, walking down the street after certain National Team runs and realizing that so many people recognize you more for the Azzurri moments than for your clubs. You represent everyone: the kids on provincial courts, the former players who are now dads and grandfathers. It always gave me incredible energy. And when you’re there, with teammates who feel the same, you find the strength to push through injuries and fatigue.
I believe the Azzurri isn’t something you just play, it’s something you live. There are guys who maybe weren’t born in Italy, but they grew up inside this culture: seaside and city courts, whole summers spent playing, locker rooms, road trips, habits... No one can take that lived experience away from you. Even my path through C2 and C1: some might have seen it as wasted time, in reality, it gave me a real taste of the culture, the feel of games played at 9pm with people coming straight from work and still giving everything. It’s part of Italian basketball culture. That will stay with me forever.”
More Than a Student of the Game
“In my family, school was never optional: it was an obligation, in the good sense. When I was young, I wanted to study Biotechnology; the subject always fascinated me because I think it teaches you a different way of seeing the world. But lastly I chose Agricultural Science. I applied myself, and it gave me a lot.
It helped me develop an interest in sustainability in the broadest sense. I think it’s time to take more responsibility for how we use resources. Today, I see steps forward and steps back, especially in Europe, caught between regulations and politics. We need clear rules and actionable projects: sustainability is a beautiful word, but without a framework it risks becoming just a slogan.
I’d love to imagine a project that unites basketball and sustainability. It can be done, but it requires concreteness and structural investment. Arenas and sports campuses can become spaces of culture, education, and sustainable practices. I arrived in Tortona just as the new facility project was taking shape: it’s a forward-looking step, designed to involve even those who aren’t fans. In Italy, new arenas are rare, and projects often stall for years. Here, the Gavio family and the club kept their commitments and accelerated. I hope it can be a light in the dark for other realities, giving fresh lifeblood to the movement.”
