The World Cup

How many of you knew that the World Cup was going on right now? Where it’s being held? Who the favored team is? That the US is in it?

Probably not many.

The World Cup started on one of my last nights in Morogoro. It is being held in Germany, so the opening ceremony was a special treat for all of the German and Austrian language school students. They were just in their glory watching all of the men in their Bavarian hats and liederhosen do the traditional dances and then the bringing out of the German celebrities. You could hear everything being said in German in the background, and they don’t get much of that in Tanzania. It’s Swahili first, tribal languages second, and English if you’re lucky.

The opening match was Germany vs. some South or Central American team. One of the language school teachers (who are all 20-something and as excited about the World Cup as the Germans) made the mistake of saying something to the Austrian lady during the beginning of the game. The response was in rapid, aggressive German, but there was no doubt about what she said to anyone in the room. You DO NOT talk to her when she is watching football. And this 40-year old woman sat there for the next few hours with her legs brought up to her chest in front of her from anxiety and did not move or say one word until the game was successfully won.

Everywhere I go and every conversation you hear is all the World Cup. I’m quite convinced that if I’d grown up in any other country (I guess except for Canada because they don’t seem to be too into it either) I’d be a rabid fan. I’ve dedicated myself to watching the matches every night (I’ve only missed a few so far) and learning the game. It’s been an amazing way to bond with my hosts in Nairobi and the people here in Maseno. The World Cup only happens every four years and these games are their lifes blood for the time being. As the commercials here have been saying since May “Football is a language we all understand.”

And this wayward American hockey fan is doing a fair job of understanding. It’s chock full of centering passes and diving and shots off the crossbar. I never could figure out off-sides when I watched the games at school, but now I just use my imagination to make the defensemen into a mobile blue line, and it all fall into place. It’s as good as hockey for the rest of the world, and this more than anything I’ve ever participated in in my life is making me feel like a citizen of the world. The teams in the tournament are from every corner of the globe and even in places like Kenya, Tanzania, Bangladesh, and Haiti that don’t have a team participating, this is what it’s all about. There are riots in the latter two countries when Brazil plays because people get so worked up over it. People here in East Africa are bragging about their plans to set in front of the TV to watch every single match (and there are dozens). Forget having a conversation about anything else until the month-long tournament has been over for quite a while, because it’s just not going to happen.

So until some time in July, I will be spending my every evening in front of a wiggly television about the size of a toaster in the Maseno seminary dining hall with a whole bunch of Kenyan staff and my fellow volunteers and will make some of the best memories of my trip. If I were at home, I would be only vaguely aware that there was a tournament going on, and I see this as one of the bigger unexpected blessings of my trip because it is giving me such insight into something that is so much a part of life for most everyone else.