In his first interview since a racist incident, Italy’s Cherif Traore reveals emotional toll

Parked outside Cherif Traore’s apartment on the outskirts of Treviso, a uniformed policeman approaches the car and looks out the window. It’s mid-afternoon, blue skies in a quiet suburb where not much seems to be going on.

Traore’s childhood friend is sitting in the driver’s seat. He’s young, black, well-dressed, and successful enough to own a custom Mercedes sports car. The officer asks to see some kind of documentation.

It feels unnecessary and provocative. Traore challenges the interrogator, clearly angered by the unwarranted intrusion. A couple of cars pull up to see what the commotion is about. Nobody really knows.

When a second official recognizes Traore as an Italian rugby star, he steps in to defuse the situation. -Sheriff! Sheriff! They move along. Nothing to see here.

“They see a black guy in a nice car and they ask questions,” Traore’s friend mutters.

Back at his apartment, Traore sits on a stool at the kitchen table, recalling similar incidents of discrimination. Ironically, he is here to talk about his experiences with racism in rugby. She was given a rotten banana during a Secret Santa event at his club, and here at home she faces racism on her own doorstep.

“Once I started the engine and a police car came up behind me to block my path,” says Traore. ‘I was on my way home from training. Two officers jumped out, one pointing his flashlight. I was bombarded with questions: “Whose car is this? What work do you do? Where are you going? If you do not answer these questions, we will take you to court.” They were going through my car, wanting to see what I had in the trunk. People were left filming on their phones.

Born in Guinea, Traore grew up in the city of Kindia with his three brothers and a host of cousins. Settling in with a glass of fruit juice, the 27-year-old talks about his African roots. His bookshelf is full of literature on women’s rights, marketing and the Koran. He talks about his mother’s African cooking and picks up a wood carving of a Guinean woman.

“It was a wonderful life there,” he says, with a big smile. ‘My grandfather had five wives and 42 children! He had many properties, companies, a factory, a dairy. He was a successful businessman who took care of the family. I always had a very close relationship with my grandfather. He would take me to the mosque, he would take me on trips. We came to Italy when he passed away. My father moved first and we followed. I was seven.

Italy became Traore’s home. Like many Italians, soccer was her first love. He admired his older brother, Mohamed, who was signed by Parma in Serie A at the age of 17. ‘My brother played with Francesco Guidolin. He was in the same squad as Hernán Crespo but he was injured and went on loan to Serie B. In the end he had to stop due to injuries.

Traore joined his local rugby club, where a coach told him he had the potential to become Italy’s first black powerhouse. His prediction was correct and Traore won his first cap in 2018. “It was always a dream to play for my country,” he says.

His last cap was in July and he was left out of this year’s Six Nations squad, so he is free to have this conversation away from the eyes of his club doctors. He acknowledges improvements in the diversity of the national team, but his enthusiasm fades when he recalls the deeply shocking incident at his club two months ago.

Rugby is my job, it’s my life, it’s all I have. I was angry,’ he says. ‘This is not an example for young people. My overwhelming feeling was disappointment.

‘It was not nice. It was not easy for me to accept. There were many people in the room. Gifts were passed around and I waited my turn. It was in a gift bag. Everyone was taking out their gift and then they had to tell the room what it was about. I opened mine to find the banana and just couldn’t bring myself to say anything. He couldn’t look left, right, or straight ahead.

‘The person sitting next to me told the room what it was about. My eyes were getting red and itchy, I was getting angry. I just wanted to get up and go home, but I stayed out of respect for others. The Christmas sack finished circling the room and then I went home. I didn’t want to see anyone, I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I was so angry. I couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning because I was so upset.

The next day, Traore posted his event account on Instagram.

Because? ‘If he hadn’t talked about it, the guys could have come the next day and joked about it. Next week, next month. . . “Oh, wasn’t that funny?” He wanted to talk.

Everybody always says it’s a joke, a joke. Don’t get me wrong, I like to joke, but what happened was too much. It is not normal. It’s like they think you’re stupid so they can say whatever they want and get away with it because it’s just a joke.

The incident rocked Italian rugby union. Apparently his club tried to sweep it under the rug, recording a video with Traore for his social media page, but this was later removed. He politely declines to comment on that process, with an ongoing investigation launched under great public pressure.

Before our meeting, I learned that a different black player was awarded a banana a year earlier. He never appeared in the public domain, so I ask him if he is aware of the accusation.

‘Yes, I had heard the same thing, but I don’t remember who. Again, people said it was just a joke, but there are certain things you shouldn’t joke about. Look at the football stadiums. My brother was a pretty tough defender and as soon as the ball came to his feet people chanted like monkeys. Our mother always told him not to listen. ignore it. She used to say: “The more they sing, the more they make fun of me, the better I’m going to play and the harder I’m going to tackle.”’

On the subject of his brother, he recalls another incident in the car. ‘My brother had a sponsor in a local town. A clothing store. We went to the store in his Mercedes on a Friday to pick up some things and the police pulled us over.

One of them had his hand on his gun. My brother put his hands in the air as if something bad was going to happen. He was only 16 years old at the time. The policeman yelled, “Get your keys out! Whose is the car? Where are you going?’

The conversation turns away from racism as she poses for pictures. Face shots, lifestyle shots and eventually location shots alongside the iconic gondolas of Venice.

He talks about the influx of Wasps players (Jacob Umaga, Marcus Watson and Matteo Minozzi) to Treviso, as well as his former clubmate Paolo Odogwu, who recently spoke about his own experiences of racism in these pages. Is it English or Italian? he asks with a laugh, referring to the debate over Odogwu’s eligibility for both countries.

What are Traore’s international ambitions? ‘My last test was against Romania. I would love to play again, but unfortunately I don’t choose the team. What I would like to say is that [Italy coach] Kieran Crowley and the entire national team staff have been very supportive of me, on and off the pitch.

“Kieran and his staff used to be here in Treviso, so I’ve played with them before. Kieran made his mark on club rugby, taking us to the play-offs, and now you can see the Italian team is changing as well. We’re every closer to each game. No one would have thought we’d beat Wales last year, but we did. With Kieran, winning a game isn’t enough. He doesn’t look back.

So how do you like your chances at Twickenham on Sunday? “Obviously it will be a really challenging game for Italy. England want to get back to normal, so they will be hungry for victory, but Italy will be even hungrier. We are developing and growing as a team. We’ve never won at Twickenham, but we could win and that would be fantastic.”

Over the course of our conversation, there’s a noticeable change in Traore’s body language. She winces in frustration when she talks about racism, her words racing as if they’ve been waiting for her release. Her smile returns as she talks about rugby at its purest, free from the blemishes of society, as she shows off her awards in the living room.

He shakes hands as the conversation comes to a close, but offers one final message: ‘Society is changing for the better. Certain things have changed. I hope that what I did is send a message to everyone, not just to people in the sport. There are certain things you can’t joke about. You can’t hide things behind jokes. I hope everyone has understood my message. Regardless of the color of our skin, we are all the same.