Soccer in Africa: sport as a cultural event

By David Goldenberg

I missed a lot when I spent this summer in Africa. The start of the home run race, the rise of the stock market, that stain on the blue cocktail dress: all important events that passed me by because I was living in a tiny Ugandan village near the equator with people who barely spoke English. When I could use the phone, and I do mean the phone, my conversations were always so hurried and expensive and the line so scratchy that the topic of President Clinton's, LAW '73, sex life never seemed to come up--or if it did, I couldn't really hear it. When I finally did come home, I found I could not hold an intelligent conversation about current events with anybody unless it involved either guerilla warfare in Uganda or international soccer, in particular the World Cup.

The World Cup. Of all the things I might have kept up with, why that? I do like soccer, but that's not even the beginning of the story. The Cup was the main source of entertainment in town; I managed to watch almost every game of the tournament on the only working television in the area. So did everyone else around me.

On game days, the television, located in the fairly posh confines of an air-conditioned room at a bar in a foreign- owned tea factory, became a Mecca of sorts to which villagers would flock. During the semifinals and finals, the TV had to be moved outside to accommodate the overwhelming masses of people who wished to gather around and watch. What makes this remarkable is that the tea factory was located about three miles from the village, and the only modes of transport available to most people were bicycles or feet. Additionally, viewing privileges cost about one U.S. dollar per person, which was more than most of the town's inhabitants made in a day.

On the way to the games, I would often witness scenes I had previously thought only to occur in commercials with Sally Struthers. On the dusty road that split the village in two, half-naked, barefoot kids with swollen stomachs would kick a "ball" back and forth and pretend they were getting paid for doing it. This "ball" was made up of dozens of black trash bags tied together in a somewhat spherical shape. Nonetheless, these kids had skill, and a definite knowledge of the world's most popular pastime. If they'd had any money, they would have been watching the Cup with everyone else.

The games were a cultural event unto themselves. Spectators came to the factory to watch the soccer matches dressed in their Sunday best. Everyone seemed to have an opinion about matters of the tournament, from why Schmeichel was the best keeper in the world to why Ronaldo had such a pretty girlfriend. I learned that the reason none of the African teams in the tournament were going to win the Cup was that, apparently, the referees could not keep up with their lightning-fast styles of play, and thus had to call arbitrary fouls to slow the game down. I was also cordially informed by a member of the crowd that America couldn't win a single game, even against Iran, because "you guys always are too busy telling other people what to do to concentrate on important thing like soccer."

Villagers readily identified themselves with teams and players that strove to overcome many obstacles. While Jamaica was getting shellacked five to nil by an overpowering Argentina squad, I found myself caught up in a room full of people trying to make excuses for why the "Reggae Boys" couldn't seem to get the ball in to the Argentine half of the field. Never mind the fact that only hours before, none of my companions had even heard of Jamaica; they were inspired by the fact that the captain of the team was a cab driver who was trying to earn enough money to put a new roof on his house.

The villagers saw the World Cup as a chance for all nations--even poor, war-torn ones--to compete on equal footing with the world's greatest powers. When Croatia defeated Germany in an excellent quarterfinal match, perhaps the biggest round of applause came from that room in a tea factory in Western Uganda.

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