Journal Entry 11: Tshikwirani YoungStars!

When I first visited Masia for one week during pre-service training I was quick to find the soccer field. Since I arrived in South Africa more than three months ago, soccer has been a primary means of communication for me: first at orientation in Mokapani and then during pre-service training in Moletsi. Here in Tshikwarani (my village in the town of Masia), it's been no different.

During that visit, I noticed there was a lot of talent in the village. When someone got hold of the only ball in town, there would be a small pilgrimage of skilled players to the field. When the game started, I was sorry to see so many of them, particularly the younger ones, have to sit on the sidelines.













Playing with (what was) the only ball in town.


Not surprisingly, the resources the kids have access to are significantly less than in America. And that is an understatement. Most players don't have shoes. They play barefoot or, if they are left footed, maybe a right footed friend will lend him his left shoe. In the absence of a soccer ball, the kids take plastic bags, bunch and tie them together and use it as a ball.
















Ipfi, our best player and an awesome kid (in red), wears one left shoe.


Even the soccer field isn't really what we think of as a soccer field back in America. I mean, for one thing there's no grass. The whole field is slanted and the surface is uneven with bumps and dirt mounds, which can sometimes prove dangerous; yesterday as one of our players was running in behind the defense at full tilt, he tripped as he looked over his shoulder to see if the ball had been served. It had.

The field is surrounded by thorn bushes with two inch needles that can pierce a shoe. Which puts me in even more awe of the kids, that they play barefoot. I cringe when a ball goes into the thickets and a boy goes barreling after it - but they don't. One of the players saw me look aghast as he returned, ball in hand, but he brushed my worries aside and, with a large grin, said, “No Mashudu [my Venda name], they can not hurt me!”. A few days ago the kids brought machetes to the field and began hacking down the bushes. The following day they brought kerosene and burned some more.




















Having this much fun with machetes should be outlawed!


The field is also used as a major thoroughfare for cattle in the evening. Cow's are in their own worlds. They meander out of the bush, stroll across the field, stop and look at you like, “What's your problem?” ...they make piss poor defenders too, you know. Except when they're in a herd. Or angry. I have literally dribbled a cow. But I digress. A funny experience happened after practice a few days back. Joko, our best best defender, said a few words in Venda and then sprinted off into the bush. 5 minutes later he returned with about 40 cows.

I couldn't help but notice how, in this regard, their upbringing is so different than mine was. I never had to bring kerosene or a machete to practice or interrupt my coach to go herd cattle. I am a long way from the watered lawns of Westport, Wesleyan or San Francsico.














Playing with wrapped up plastic bags as a ball.

But despite the lack of resources, soccer is an awesome outlet for the kids. They're passionate about it. And in the country that has the most HIV infections in the world - estimated at 5.3 million, giving a national infection rate of about 12% of the population (National Geographic, Sept 05, p. 72) - not providing the kids with a productive, positive outlet seemed like a travesty.

So, when I returned to Venda after PST, I thought I would explore the situation a bit more. A few times I got frustrated with the kids because they didn't show up to play. But I learned my lesson pretty quickly (and generalized it to other areas of my life here). If I initiate plans, the plans often do not work. Instead, I need to let the community members provide the inspiration, and then I can help them improve their process.

For instance, twice I arranged for the kids to come to the field and play. Once a few kids came, the second time no one did. I was frustrated, and mildly depressed! But a few days later, there was a flock of children in front of my house telling me to come to the field. Before I arrived, I could see it bubbling with players. There are channels of communication in Africa hich I simply do not see.

When I saw the kids were excited to play (even if, or maybe especially because I was not the one motivating them) I thought it would be great to organize a team. I set out to talk with some members of the community. I was put in touch with two men from the town's civic structure. They seemed self-assured that creating a team would not be a problem.

They organized a meeting: 7am, Sunday morning. I thought it would be an exploratory session with a few members of the community. Imagine my surprise when I arrived at the meeting to find forty kids awaiting their new coach! I freaked out a bit; there would be a lot to do! But I was eager get involved - and I have no lack of passion for soccer - so I agreed to coach them.
















Too cute. Some kids chillin' at the field.


Thankfully a few members of the community appeared from the woodwork to help, and the Tshikwarani YoungStars were born; the two teams have moved forward on the wings of their hard work. We currently have an Under 19 head coach and his assistant, two Under 14 head coaches, a team secretary and an ever growing list of random men from the community who show up to help. The team is in good hands.

We've done a lot already. We've worked closely with the civic structure asking for help communicating with the parents and money. They have, in fact, paid for the registration of the two teams giving us 500 Rand (a little under a hundred dollars), which is a huge vote of support, and a lot of money for the town.

The kids have worked to improve the field with said equipment, and we've written letters to a road construction crew that is working in town, asking them to come level the field. I really hope that comes through!

Most difficult is trying to extract money from the players. I repaired the community ball and purchased three new ones for the two teams, but I haven't gotten all the money back. Raising funds for transportation is challenging, too, but we're trying to get the local bus company to sponsor us.

But whatever happens – and whatever hemisphere you happen to be in - the game remains the same. As does our shared love for it. So, shoes or not, in the town of Masia the Tshikwarani Youngstars will be livin' it up!