Soccer in the Village

I started playing organized soccer in the local village about two weeks ago. One Monday, three different staff separately insisted that I come. So what did I do? I blew off work (who needs supervision on a wildlife walk) and went to play.

To get to the village, I waited outside the workshop with a gathering crowd of Mokolodi workers. Soon enough we were all piling on a large, open air bus. I was standing near the front. Between the driver and the passenger seat, there were at least 6 men, some hanging out the side. The packed bus took off into the park along rain washed and nearly destroyed roads. But the bus bumped along without any problem and was filled with noise.

Half an hour later we arrived at the outer gates and everyone jumped off. We all started walking along a road with the sun still beating down on us. As I may have mentioned before, the capital city Gaborone is fairly developed with malls and paved roads. The villages are much more simple and rural. They seem to be quite spread out and are dusty even in the rainy season.

I should mention that while I know many people at the park. I rarely have long conversations with them. The language barrier is the largest, but not only, obstacle. Even with those who do speak English well, I know people prefer Setswana. For the entire evening I went to play soccer, English was only spoken if it was directed at me and that was very little. I am always content to listen to Setswana though. I often find myself listening to conversations and broadcasts even when I can barely decipher a word.

The soccer field was brown and the ground was very hard. As soon as we got there I knew I would have trouble with the heat. After an hour, the other team showed up late and my team started warm-up. We all wear blue shirts and our team name is the ‘White Rhinos’. People from the village started to show up. Men and women sat and talked in separate groups. Many men smoked cigarettes or pot, some of them on my team before the game.

Just before the game began I was told “You’re #10. Go play!”. Whatever soccer knowledge I had immediately failed me. I’m #10? I looked at the back of my blue shirt which I knew had no number. Turns out #10 is right side forward. I ran around randomly until I was pointed there.

I ran my ass off to make up for my lack of ball control. I even had a break away but kicked the ball it bit far ahead and it was picked up by the keeper. After 25 min I was finished, out of the 90 min game. There were only 1 sub besides me the entire game. So I sat and watched and cheered. Sitting by myself or with others I would greet but not really talk to. The kids constantly tried to get my attention, they would generally stare, then laugh or run away when I looked back. They also liked to sit beside me and mirror however I was sitting.

The sunset was beautiful over the mountains and the field. It was a harvest moon. I will take my camera to the next game as I feel a bit more established now. I caught a ride back to the park which was lucky. Others had to walk for over a hour in the dark through the park.