Nine Questions for Clarisse Machanguana, Former WNBA Player

Former WNBA player Clarisse Machanguana at a parade in Mozambique.

Walking around Maputo, Mozambique, Clarisse Machanguana stands out. For one, she stands a towering 6 foot 5. She’s also her home country’s most storied women’s basketball player. Machanguana first picked up a Spalding at the age of six. Her hoops talents eventually took her to Portugal and then the U.S., where she played for Old Dominion University in Virginia. She then joined the WNBA for a few years, playing with Lisa Leslie and the Los Angeles Sparks during the early years of American professional women’s basketball. She later spent the bulk of her career playing abroad in Spain, France, Brazil, South Korea and Italy before finally retiring at 40.

Machanguana set up the Clarisse Machanguana Foundation in 2014, a Maputo-based nonprofit organization focused on empowering Mozambican youth through its three primary pillars: health, education and sport. IP recently spoke with Machanguana about her groundbreaking hoops career, the biggest challenges in her country today, and her hopes for her philanthropy and activism going forward—including going back to school on a Fulbright. In fact, Machanguana called in from a University of Arizona classroom. Here are some excerpts from that discussion, which have been edited for clarity.

So what brought you to the states in the first place? And what brought you back now?

I came to the U.S. for the first time in 1994 on a basketball scholarship to go to Old Dominion University in Norfolk, Virginia. When I finished, there was a new league opening up called the American Basketball League. But that didn’t last because the WNBA started at the same time. After a few years in the WNBA [Machanguana played from 1999 to 2002], I also played in Europe. The WNBA didn’t pay a lot. So I had to go play overseas. I played 23 years of overseas basketball, and when I finished, I started my foundation.

When COVID hit, I went to the U.S. embassy in Mozambique and asked them if they would help me get a scholarship because I knew I needed to learn more about nonprofits. So I got a Fulbright scholarship and here I am, back in the U.S. I’m entering my last semester getting a master’s in global management of nonprofit organizations. And I cannot wait to finish—first of all, I started with people how many years younger than me? It’s as if I’m 18 years old again. I’m definitely at the right place, but maybe at the wrong age.

What’s the biggest thing you’ve learned getting your masters in this field?

Two things. First is that most of the people or organizations that give money to nonprofits don’t want the money allocated to salaries or branding or imaging. You have to demonstrate impact, results and use the money well.

Another thing I’m learning that I didn’t quite consider when I was an athlete is the value of networking and building relationships. When you’re an athlete, first off, you think you’re never going to get old. I think on some level, sometimes we live in a bubble. But now I’m back and here every day, networking with professors and alumni. And I’m reaching out to every network that I had as a player that I didn’t maximize, including the WNBA. I’m just trying to make people who crossed my life aware of me again. One person I’m trying to connect with now is Teresa Heinz, John Kerry’s wife, who was born in Mozambique and who would be interested in the message of supporting young girls in Africa.

So why did you start your foundation? Was it something you had in mind while you were still playing?

So I played very late, all the way until I was 40 years old. One thing that I knew is that I didn’t want to become a basketball coach. This is often the most comfortable thing, but I knew I didn’t want to do that. But every year when I had a small break from basketball, I would go home and visit schools and give speeches to try to motivate children. 

And I’ll tell you the most constant question I would get, not when everyone was around, but maybe when I was walking back to my car. One or two kids would always follow me and ask, “Sister Clarisse, who was the witchcraft person you used to be successful?” It was a very consistent reaction. But I know that almost all Africans who have no access to school are trapped in a mental prison that keeps them in place. I wanted a way to break that barrier, so I started a foundation to allow kids to dare to dream. The main objective is not to be a basketball foundation. But we are using sports as a space for these tools and these discussions.

Then, because of my name, I was being approached by local organizations and I could mobilize youth in great numbers that they could not reach. That’s how I then began to get more information about HIV. In Africa, it is often perceived as a virus you can only get through prostitution. When, of course, this is not the case.

Back at home, I am recognized. But I want to be sure I’m recognized for my causes. The basketball part is just a flag of what I was. Even though I was paid to make shots, I want to make the most important shot of all—making changes to peoples’ lives. I want to change a whole generation of youth. I feel privileged to be in a position to influence change, but I need the right resources to do it sustainably. Right now, I’ve done it with 25,000 kids, but there is a whole country. The mindset is that we don’t want money to fix HIV, but rather to change behavior.

How have you built out your foundation? And who funds it?

Amadou Gallo Fall, president of Basketball Africa League (BAL), is like an older brother to me. Not only has he helped me, but [he’s helped] any African WNBA basketball player that has gone back home. I have other people who played in the NBA who are on my board and are a phone call away. I’m just trying to open other doors for my work to proceed. I played for the WNBA where, unfortunately, pay was low. So I provide limited funds for my foundation and initially put $50,000 into the foundation to start it. I also fundraise. But I’ve gone two years without salary.

I had a partnership with Exxon-Mobil and funds from PEPFAR [the U.S. President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief], but they left the country when COVID hit. So I’m back in the U.S. to bring in more funds for my foundation. I think I bring most of the things other organizations don’t have. I’m a reliable person and also transparent and mindful. I believe we can break the cycle of poverty that most girls find themselves in.

What would you say are the biggest issues on the ground in Mozambique today?

The stigma of HIV/AIDS. Some people would rather die than be seen entering a health center and be known as someone who got treatment. One of the things we did in 2016 when we started our first HIV campaign was bring in HIV-positive people and show them on television [so people could] see that they looked good, and weren’t just stuck in beds. Even health technicians, professors, school directors, when they spoke about HIV, I found they spoke in a language of fear. But we need a proper language to encourage people.

I hear you’re trying to walk 1,800 miles across your country.

So I’m hoping to fundraise enough to do it. It’s a symbolic walk. I want to bring awareness to HIV and also obstetric fistula, one of the most serious and tragic childbirth injuries that creates a hole between the birth canal and bladder and/or rectum. So let’s say an 11-year-old girl is pregnant, but lives very far from the nearest health center. Her family has seen other people give birth at home, so they don’t rush her to the hospital. But by the time delivery starts, it takes too long to get to the hospital, and too long to give birth. Or maybe they reach a hospital, but it is under-resourced.

The baby dies and for the rest of the mother’s life, she deals with incontinence. And her village shames her. She can’t work. She smells. They don’t understand what she’s going through. So my walk will symbolize the need to walk toward that health center, and how, mentally, we need to walk toward a change of mind to have a better life.

What has your time in Europe been like?

Well, in Europe, I remember living in a small town near Milan where I was not known at all. I went to pay for something at the grocery store, and the grocer did everything she could not to touch my hand. I was almost protected by this. I didn’t feel Black or different. My son, on his fifth birthday, told me he loves me even though I’m Black. I burst out laughing. Then we got serious. I thought about what he might be hearing in school. So I realized it was time for me to go with him to Africa. So even though in Italy we live well, we have white friends, the only Black people he probably saw were selling African clothes on the street. But he needed to see the likes of a doctor or a professor. On the other hand, what my son said was also in a way a beautiful declaration of love.

What are some of your athlete peers doing in philanthropy and activism?

Athletes live in a world where we have more access to expanding and publicizing our causes. But one challenge is whether this is a trend or an actual passion that you will see through. So think about “I Can’t Breathe.” I’ve seen some WNBA players dealing with social justice and gay rights. But as soon as the noise dies down, do they continue, or was this just a trend? So athletes need to find their voice and their cause. They need to find their ground. I think that’s where the sustainability part comes in. This voice should lead to an improvement or a change in policy.

I’m talking to two Nigerian basketball players now because they have a very big platform they can use to bring awareness to issues in Africa. As an athlete that is also African, I know I was more reluctant to support local U.S. causes when I also had Africa to think about. But part of it was about finding the bridge I could walk on. I’ve been trying to connect with WNBA President Lisa Borders. I think it would be significant for the likes of the Nigerian players to bring awareness to causes that matter to them in Africa because they have that visibility.

Anyone you look up to from the WNBA when you played? And what about the new generation?

From my earlier days, my teammate Lisa Leslie, a Hall of Famer who played for the Los Angeles Sparks. I think she continues to be a good example of embracing young players as they enter the league and supporting different causes without being polemic. Today, players like Brittney Griner and Kyrie Irving represent the new generation. They’re all about expressing themselves on the floor and off. But I think the older players who were successful have a responsibility to guide younger players. There’s a big gap here. They have such big platforms.

Let’s talk about Kyrie and his vaccine stance. My thing is, what is the role of an older player who can help those in the league now see their mistakes or not-so-well-informed decisions? But often, this should be done in a private setting. Out of the spotlight. So players don’t feel attacked.