2008 African Cup of Nations:On the face of it African soccer has never been in such fine health. The 26th African Cup of Nations, which begins in Ghana on Sunday, will glitter with some of the world's best players and anticipation levels have rarely been so high. Can Samuel Eto'o fire Cameroon to a fifth crown? Will Michael Essien drive the hosts to glory? Or might Didier Drogba of neighbouring Côte d'Ivoire steal the show?

The majority of the players participating are on the books of European clubs. In all, 34 English Premier League players will be involved, more than double that number are arriving from France, and a vast array of other European nations from Switzerland to Azerbaijan will also be represented.

Unfortunately, however, away from the glamour there is another, more sinister side to the story. The resounding success of African players in Europe has unwittingly created a social problem, with more and more youngsters being enticed to leave their homelands in the far-flung hope of becoming their nation's next big star - only to be abandoned once they fail.

The initial journey is usually arranged by an agent who scours Africa's ever-increasing number of soccer schools for talent, convinces parents that their boy will land a lucrative contract in Europe, and then, once they have stumped up the cash for a plane ticket and tourist visa, flies him over for a trial.

These trials do not always materialise, few boys succeed and most are discarded by the agent once it becomes apparent the big, money-making deal is not going to happen.

Stuck in a strange city, penniless and without official papers, the boy - even if he finds money for a return flight - is often too embarrassed to go home and risk shaming his family.

Every Friday evening, dozens of aspiring African players gather in La Courneuve, a grim suburb in northern Paris, to train on the synthetic pitches situated less than a kilometre from the Stade de France. It is a scene replicated in many corners of the French capital.

These particular pitches used to be a regular hangout for Boris Ngouo, a young Cameroonian who has written a book about his travails.

Ngouo's story is sad, but the most tragic part is that thousands could tell similar tales. As a boy, he was earmarked as a special talent at the Kadji Sport Academie - Cameroon's number one academy where Barcelona's Eto'o learned his trade - and soon began receiving offers from agents. When a local agent named Francis succeeded in getting him a trial with Hertha Berlin, Ngouo left home aged 16 vowing to wire money to his parents once the pay cheques started coming in.

Hertha were impressed, but first wanted Ngouo to toughen up with a spell at lower league SV Lichtenberg 47. It didn't go well. He was racially abused by supporters, and one evening got so badly beaten up he almost lost his life. Francis lost interest, and Ngouo was passed from one agent to another.

He wound up in Paris where, to his good fortune, he happened upon Jean-Claude Mbvoumin, a former Cameroon international and founder of Culture Foot Solidaire (a Paris-based association established to help young African footballers which currently looks after more than 800 boys aged 10-18).

Now with a French agent, Ngouo secured trials with second division teams Amiens and Guingamp and was accepted by both, only for the deals to collapse because the agent demanded too high a commission. When Ngouo received another offer from an amateur club, the agent again intervened, falsely claiming that Serie A side Perugia were after him.

After a failed sojourn in Spain, Ngouo returned to Paris and began a new career selling mobile phones door-to-door. "I'm still bitter because I feel I had the talent to turn professional," says Ngouo, now 23. "At first I blamed the (French) agent, but I later understood I'd been the victim of a system rather than one unsavoury individual."

Ngouo argues the primary culprits are the clubs who try out the kids without assuming moral responsibility. "They never take into account the repercussions which, for a young African far from home, can be catastrophic," he says. "I see it as a form of modern slavery."

Last summer, Barcelona reportedly took on three Cameroonians under the age of 13, while French side Le Mans invited 10 youngsters on trial and accepted none. More controversial still were the mass trials organised by Qatari academy Aspire, who, in an attempt to find Africa's next gem, ran the rule over 750,000 kids before taking on just 23.

When Ghana play Guinea in the opening match of this year's Nations Cup, the streets of Accra will be unusually quiet as an entire city gathers around television sets. Even the worn-out pitches - normally occupied by thousands of kids playing for academies and dreaming of following Essien to Chelsea - will be given a much-needed rest.

There are around 500 illegal academies in Accra, most of which are run by unqualified coaches and have dreadful facilities, yet still parents are taking their children out of school and paying for them to attend. It is a similar story throughout west Africa.

For many, the possibility, no matter how small, of their boy becoming Africa's next millionaire footballer is too good to resist.

"Every kid grows up hoping to become professional and their families are only too happy to listen when somebody says their boy could be the next Eto'o," Ngouo explains. "My advice is to delay leaving home for as long as possible. But, unfortunately, as my own experience shows, the temptation is often too great."