Tag Archives: soccer

The Onlooker

Kampala is the most populated city in Uganda and, therefore, very crowded. This is painfully obvious during rush-hour traffic. And, to get to JRS Kampala from the hotel and back, we had to cross the city in this traffic, so we spent a lot of time on the bus.

These bus rides have been challenging for me. Last summer, I was a participant in Creighton’s Peru FLPA in which students live and study in the urban poverty of Lima. It is a service learning program, so we served at various service sites in the community. To get back from service sites and overnights with our host families, we took the public bus (M1). And, despite some surprised looks from other bus riders, it was a way to delve into the reality in which these Peruvians were made to live and an act of solidarity.

In Uganda, riding public transportation is not an option for us. We are hauling around large, expensive camera equipment and working under a time crunch to get all the footage we need to assemble a documentary film when we get back to Omaha. So, I get it. However, we still see public transportation on our route in addition to many other vehicles, motorcycles, bikes, people walking, and children selling stuff on the streets.

The ease and comfort of our commute compared to most residents of Kampala is unsettling for me. This is magnified by broken, wordless interactions across windowpanes as I make eye contact with riders on the vans used for public transport. These vans are usually packed as full as possible (and then some) and sit lower to the ground than the bus I ride. This creates a physical hierarchy in which I am situated higher than the bus riders using public transport and, therefore, looking down on them.

And the eye contact is pretty unbearable, but I will not let myself look away. Under the circumstances, looking – and gently smiling – is the only way (that I can think of) to recognize the fellow human being in the vehicle beside me and dignify their life as of equal worth and value to my own. And, as our respective vehicles chug along, I feel like an onlooker in a landscape of hardship and suffering from which I am undeservedly spared.

But, on a positive note, today I had my best interaction from the bus so far. We visited the home of a South Sudanese refugee named Lewi that we interviewed yesterday. After getting some establishing shots outside his home, I played soccer with his sons. We started with passing but quickly transitioned to headers. The goal was to get as many consecutive headers. Our highest was an impressive three headers! Before you judge our soccer skills, you should know that we played on a very slanted ground next to a brick wall with a toddler at our feet.

We left after getting B-roll, and, as we drove away, the family stood outside their home and waved goodbye. When Lewi’s son spotted me through the windowpane past Tim (sitting between me and the window), he stuck his chin out farther and grinned harder so that the rest of the skin on his face tightened. To see each other better, I had to duck under Tim’s waving arm, and he had to duck under his dad’s waving arm. I made a silly face at him, and he made a silly face back. And, in that moment, the glass of the windowpane seemingly dissolved so that it no longer was a barrier. And I was grateful for its opacity that allowed me to connect to my new friend a moment longer.

It’s no coincidence that my best interaction from the bus only happened after I left the bus and met (and played soccer with) the person on the other side of the windowpane.

Soccer Madness

A view of the soccer stadium on game day.

(From an dateless journal entry while in Lira)

It is hard to believe the United States does not celebrate the sport of soccer in the same way in which many other countries of the world do. It is also a shame. Even though I have minimal soccer skills (ask my classmates who watched me desperately attempt and fail to score one goal against a bunch of children less than half my size), being able to recognize the rules and setup of a sport brought me closer to the children we were with.

Soccer is so much more to them than a sport. The first night we played, we did not even play the game with a soccer ball; we played with a plastic water bottle. They barely noticed because for them soccer is not about who wears the best jerseys, which brand of shoes works best, or the quality of their ball. Soccer is a time to celebrate in a friendly and competitive spirit as well as distract themselves from their daily struggles. Soccer relieves their stress, anxiety, and possibly even pain. I know watching this random white girl prance around like a baby gazelle chasing after a ball gave them a good laugh.

Although it was a slight jab to my dignity, I laughed with them; I played their game with them and I related to them in some way for that hour or two out on that field. It did not matter that we were from another country, older, and twice their size. They immediately made us their teammates and welcomed us onto their field, a place that felt almost sacred. (End of entry)

In an anthropology course, I read a book by Janet Lever called Soccer Madness which discusses soccer’s role in society in Brazil. However, as I watched the motorbikes packed with people in their bright yellow jerseys headed to watch the soccer match last week, I could not help but notice a similar role in the community in Uganda. Lever states that sporting spectacles such as soccer “belong to the world of the sacred rather than the profane; fans who say sport provides an escape from ‘real life’ in effect sustain this religious distinction …. Like the effect of a religious celebration, sport fosters a sense of identification with the others who shared the experience.”

Keep on keepin’ on,

Gabby

To those with nothing, soccer is everything.”- Celia W. Dugger