Champions

     The finals for the soccer tournament were supposed to happen last Sunday.  Due to a death in one of the Correrah families, we had to postpone the game to Thursday.  Finally the big day arrived, and my team was able to take the field.  We were up against the Baralande players, who happen to be my neighbors, and also the team that tried to play illegal players in some of the previous games. So there was quite a bit of controversy surrounding this team, and we were a little nervous about their fans getting ugly and causing problems.

     Thankfully the game went off without a hitch.  Perhaps it was fortunate that it happened on a Thursday, for there weren’t as many spectators, and people seemed more subdued.  It also helped that Andres had roped off the entire field, creating a barrier between the fans and the pitch, and that he had invited some members of the local police force to attend and supervise.

     Local tournaments here always begin and end with lots of fanfare.  It is customary to hook up a big sound system, blast loud music, and listen to commentaries from an obnoxious emcee.  It’s also important to invite and introduce as many “dignitaries” from the neighboring communities.  Our tournament featured the chef de quartier, the youth soccer director (though there are no youth soccer leagues of any kind), and the son of the local imam.  After several speeches, the most dignified person then kicks off the ball (like the first pitch in baseball), and the game begins.  At the opening match Jennifer was the one chosen to give the kick off.  She was totally embarrassed and confused.  It was great! 

     Thankfully the community elder was present for the finals, so Jen didn’t have to do it again.  And since the tournament was being organized by the church, we also had a former Muslim share his testimony.  Though brief and rather general, it was a perfect message for the occasion.  The speaker quickly told of his search for the true God, having felt the need to have greater assurance for his salvation (something Islam cannot offer).  He then attested to the fact that He found that assurance in Jesus Christ, and he encouraged all the young people to search for God while there was still time. 

     Finally the match started.  Almost right away our team gained control of the ball, passing up the field with expert precision—what can I say?  They had a great coach!  Though unsuccessful, they had several close shots on goal:  Nico hit the crossbar twice on free kicks, Beckham hit the post once, and several shots were either saved by the keeper or went wide.  The opposing team seemed to struggle to contain us, placing several defenders on Beckham, our lead striker and top scorer of the tournament, which left them unable to generate much offense.  They did have several close counter attacks, but they all ended with missed shots, or players off-sides.  Any shots that were on target were easily saved by our keeper.  The first half ended 0-0.

     The second half looked pretty much the same.  F.C. Savanné dominated the ball but couldn’t seem to get it in the net.  F.C. Baralande kept shooting long, desperate shots, rushing back on defense to try to contain our forwards.  Finally, the tension broke when Nico placed a pass right through the middle, Beckham sprinted past a defender, squared himself for the shot, and landed it solidly in the left-hand corner.  The keeper was completely helpless.  GOOOOAAAAL!  Fans and players alike rushed onto the field, and the opposition hung their heads. 

     Though there were still 20 minutes to play, the game was over.  Our team continued to pressure their defense, and their team continued to play frantic offense.  The game ended 1-0, though it seemed we had won by a lot more. 

     Throughout the whole awards ceremonies, our players beamed with joy, ecstatic that all their hard work had finally paid off.  We were by far the most well trained team, and in the end the results showed it.  For me too it was a proud moment, being able to clearly see the improvement of our players and the difference I was able to make in their lives.  Though I wouldn’t let them, originally our players wanted to call our team F.C. (football club) Andrew.  My hope is that whenever they remember this moment, they will remember a loving coach who also taught them about Jesus.  In a society void of positive, male role models, I’m hopeful the impact will go deep, and I’m grateful God allowed me the honor of playing this role.  Please pray for our team, Nico’s friends, that God would reveal Himself to them and draw them into His grace and love. 

        

Soccer Fever

The past couple weeks have been all about soccer.  Every year the church asks Andres to help them organize a tournament for the kids and youth.  Of course he agrees to it, especially since his sons end up being a part of it.  But soccer in Guinea is extremely intense and political.

     I had my first taste of this when I played on our neighborhood’s team last month.  I thought I was being asked to be part of the team to play, when in reality the team mostly wanted me to supply equipment for them.  At the first game, after a speech from the elder about soccer bringing us together in the spirit of peace and unity, there were riots because of a bad call made by the referee.  Initially he called for a penalty.  Then the fans rushed the field in protest, so he reversed his decision, after which the fans from the other team rushed the field.  It ended with the match being annulled, and I didn’t ever get to play. 

     I did get the chance to play in the following game, for about twenty minutes, but I got the impression that I was only playing because I was the “token white player who provided the balls for the team.”  The other thing I realized is that as the only white player, everything I did was multiplied by a factor of ten.  If I did something good, everyone thought it was amazing.  If I did something bad, everyone thought I was absolutely horrible.  Even the ref shared these sentiments, calling a foul on me for every tiny bit of contact, but refusing to give me the penalty when I was tackled in the box, about to score a goal.  And I’m talking American football tackle, not just soccer tackle.  Not only that but everyone wanted to know why I didn’t score a goal, even though our team was scoreless, and I didn’t even play a full half of the game.  After this I didn’t bother showing up to any more games.  As I was saying, soccer is very intense and very political. 

     During the kids’ tournament, the big deal has been checking the players’ ages.  The tournament is supposed to be for kids and youth 14 and under.  The difficulty is that they don’t give out birth certificates in Guinea, and no one keeps track of their birthdays.  So kids here don’t usually know their exact ages.  They usually guess their approximate age whenever the parents feel like enrolling them in school, but not everyone starts school at the same age.  Andres also explained that teams here will stack the teams with older kids and keep adding older, and older ones the closer the team gets to the playoffs and finals.  Last year’s final was basically a match between college age players. 

     So this year Andres came up with a system of registration and pictures, to identify the players who would be eligible to play.  During a preliminary meeting, two weeks prior to the start of the tournament, he had the coaches look over each team to protest any players they thought might be too old.  Then he took pictures of each player, accompanied by their name and approximate age, and printed off a color page for the games.  Before each game and before any substitutions, he checks the players to his picture on the page.

     This system has worked pretty well, except that we have had teams try to sneak on illegal players.  One team tried to substitute one player with his older brother.  We caught this pretty quickly, but missed another illegal substitution for a player who looked similar enough to the picture but couldn’t seem to remember his own name.  When the mistake was later discovered, the team had to forfeit the game.  This was the same team who mysteriously had four new coaches the day of the first game.  We don’t know if these men imposed their will on the kids or if the kids asked for their help, but it was clear that they had never worked with the kids and were simply trying to get their neighborhood to win (hence the new players on the team, players, I might add, who weren’t even from the same neighborhood).

     But it’s not just the coaches creating drama and suspicion.  The fans are also contributing to the excitement.  I’m used to having soccer matches where the fans stand on the opposite side of the field as the team bench, or at least a respectable distance away.  During this tournament, the fans swarm the bench, even trying to take a seat on the bench, drinking water from our cooler, and generally acting like they’re part of the team.  They do this during the huddle too.  Instead of having a private discussion with the team, my half time pep talks have been to a huddled mass of spectators, all curious to hear what the coach will say, and everyone interjecting their own advice and coaching tips as well.  It’s a little intimidating and very difficult to concentrate.  And when anyone scores a goal, the crowd goes wild, everyone rushing onto the field, dancing and cheering as if they had just won the whole tournament.  It takes at least 5 minutes after every goal to get the game going again.  As I said, very intense.

    And now our team has made it into the finals.  This Sunday we play Baralande.  That’s my neighborhood, though I’m coaching the team from Correrah.  It’s gonna be nuts!  Andres plans to rope off the field, post guards, and invite the police to attend.  We would appreciate your prayers.  Of course, we would love it if our team won, but more than anything we’re hoping for a fair and peaceful game without any problems.

   Olé!  Olé, olé, olé!  Praise the Lord!

Strange Easter

     This was the strangest Easter I’ve ever experienced.  Not bad, just strange.  The morning started by giving our kids their Easter baskets.  But instead of baskets all we had were Tupperware containers.  And instead of Easter candy, a chocolate bunny, etc, we could only find some general gummy candies and chocolate bars.  After breakfast we all dressed up in our special African outfits: Jen and Abi in their custom-made dresses, and Nathanael and I in our special shirts.  We then drove to church.  As we’ve mentioned before, the services can sometimes be long.  Since it’s Easter this one was even longer.  From 9:30 a.m. to 1:30 p.m., we all sat in the crowded, hot sanctuary dancing and praising the Lord.  There we even more special songs than usual, as even more people felt like expressing their individual gratitude to God. 

     Then we moved on to the sermon. This is where things got especially strange.  Instead of your usual Easter-resurrection sermon, the whole message was about betrayal.  We started on the topic of Judas’ betrayal of Jesus, moved to the Old Testament studying various examples of betrayal like Delilah’s betrayal of Samson, and Absalom’s betrayal of David, then passed on to everyday life examples of betrayal, finally arriving at the main point that all of us should be careful not to betray one another, and not to betray Jesus.  It was a decent sermon, just not what we expected on Easter Sunday morning.  There wasn’t anything about the good news of  the resurrection, Jesus’ victory over death and sin, or any of that.  Just “don’t stab your neighbor in the back.”

     Following our marathon church experience (I know other African churches can go even longer, but when you have a wife who doesn’t speak the language, and two little kids without nursery care, it felt like we had just run a marathon) we drove to the Snetselaars’ for a somewhat last-minute Easter lunch.  I say somewhat last-minute because we were expecting the church to provide a meal according to their tradition, but they ended up using the money they had raised for other purposes, leaving them without a budget for the party.  So as a team we ate African food prepared by Corrinne’s neighbor.

     Finally our day ended with some grading and lesson planning, Jen and I getting ready to go back to school the following day.  As I said, it wasn’t a bad day, just a very strange way for us to spend our Easter.  In some ways, I feel it just goes with the territory.  Missionaries have to be flexible, adaptable to the local culture, willing to go with the flow.  Holidays overseas are often the toughest, as we usually look forward to our regular traditions and customs.  But at the same time this type of out-of-the-ordinary experiences make for great memories.  I’m sure next year we’ll look back and laugh at the “strange Easter” we had in Guinea.

     In conclusion, we praise God for His death and resurrection.  We thank Him for His blessings and faithfulness in our lives.  And we rejoice at the fun ways He has taken us out of our comfort zones, granting us the gift of new, and strange, experiences.  Thank you Lord!