Football and Piki-pikis

Shikokho Girls Football Team

       On Friday I attended a girls soccer game at a nearby school.  I noticed the girls getting their uniforms together as I was leaving the staff room for the afternoon, and they seemed excited when I asked if I could go with them.  I had talked with a few of them before, and a couple are in my 2W class.  They are all so sweet and I feel more comfortable around them than any of the other students at the school.  As we walked the 3-ish kilometers to the school the girls taught me some new Kiswahili words (mto: river, maji: water, mtoto: child, watoto: children) and asked me questions about America.  They were all very concerned that I was getting tired on the journey—I had to assure them that while I cannot run as far as they can (yet), I can handle walking long distances.  A few tried to get me to allow them to carry my backpack for me, and I was told I was a “good mzungu” for insisting on carrying it myself.

            We took a path through the countryside instead of the main road, and it was beautiful (I am kicking myself for not taking pictures on the way—we ended up taking the much less interesting main road home).  We passed many small clusters of houses, cows, sheep, maize fields, etc. We also crossed the river where most people in the village get their water.  I had been warned several times that just because I am a good swimmer does not mean I should try to swim in the river.  The section we crossed kind of just looked like a mud hole to me, so there must be a more dangerous section people are referring to. (Side note: speaking of swimming, the other day Joann was asking me about swimming and whether or not I miss it.  She says, “I used to swim, but I quit after I found a dead body in the pool.” Um, what??  One day in college there were only a few people in the pool and no one noticed a boy had drowned until she found him at the bottom.  I guess he had been practicing holding his breath so people had stopped paying close attention to him.  Yeah, I would quit swimming too.)

            The village we visited is called Shivagala, and the Primary and Secondary school seem more or less exactly like Shikokho.  They get much fewer visitors from the West than Shikokho does, however, so I quickly attracted a mob of about 50 primary school children.  At first it was cute but it got old (and overwhelming!) in a hurry.  They didn’t know any english beyond “hello-how-are-you” and “what are you called?” so they just kind of stood there and giggled.  They were very interested in my watch and then my water bottle, which they asked if they could have.  Um, no.

            Eventually one of the girls, Metrine, took me by the elbow and escorted me through the crowd and into the safety of the staff room with two of the male teachers that had come with us from Shikokho.  They help coach the team, but most of the coaching is done by a young woman from the village.  When the girls were ready to warm up chairs were set out in the shade for us.  Someone from the school also brought out a pitcher of water with two mugs.  A few minutes later I was given a Fanta Orange, although luckily I did not have to feel weird about drinking it in front of the men because by that time they had moved and were standing halfway down the field.  During this time 30 or so kids gathered in a cluster a few feet away from me and simply sat there and stared (and giggled).  A couple of the players were sitting with me on the sidelines and they had to shift their bags over several times as the group of children slowly inched closer.

            The school day ended around halftime, so most of the children went home and I was able to pull out my camera without causing complete pandemonium.  The few who did stick around, however, enjoyed getting their picture taken immensely and obeyed nicely when one of the girls or I would hold out a warning hand to keep them from crowding too close while I showed them the photograph on the screen.  At one point a few of the older boys came over and greeted us.  They mostly talked to the girls in Kiswahili, but I knew I was being discussed (yeah, dude, I know what the word “mzungu” means).  After a minute Celestine—a Form 2 White girl whom, at the risk of sounding creepy, I absolutely adore—said quietly, “Madam, let’s walk away from here,” and led me farther down the sideline.  On the walk over we had passed a boy on a boda-boda (bicycle) who said something to me in Kiswahili that was clearly inappropriate— one of the teachers shook his head said, “He is a very bad boy,” and I could plainly see the discomfort on the faces of the girls.  It was touching to see their concern for me.

            Our girls ended up winning the game 1-0 (the fact that the Shivagala girls did not have shoes could have something to do with it), at which point both teams sat down in a group together and, in an interesting display of sportsmanship, teachers from both schools gave the girls tips for improvement.  I was asked if I wanted to speak but, as my knowledge of any ball sport is negligible at best, I shyly declined.  By that time Mr. Mwimani—who is growing on me—had shown up and he began leading the group home.  We walked home on main roads, which were far dustier and far less beautiful than the way over.  We walked through the closest market to Shikokho, Melinya.  If you do a google map search for Shikokho, look north a bit and you’ll see a big field labeled “bull fighting grounds.”  That is Melinya.  I had driven by Melinya with Peter, but this was my first time actually in it.  There were several shops and a couple rows of open stalls.  As soon as we walked into town an older woman literally ran up to me and said “Muzungu!  Muzungu! Hi how are you?” and shook my hand for the better part of a minute.  The girls explained, “She is so proud that she has greeted you.  She will tell all her family and friends all about it.  Mr. Mwimani, who for some reason got a kick out of the fact that I was hungry but not tired, tried to get me to buy a soda (which is actually the word they use in Kiswahili for carbonated beverages), but I was holding out for real food.  On our way out of town he flagged down a piki-piki (motorbike) and persuaded me to get on and ride the rest of the way back.  I am glad he insisted, because the detour through Melinya had added significant distance to our journey and we were much farther from the school than I had thought.  This was my first time on a piki-piki, which for the most part was enjoyable.  I had to sit side-saddle (both legs to one side) because it was awkward in my teaching skirt, but I never felt like I was going to fall off.  I got many calls of “Muzungu!” as I whizzed by people in the road. 

            This weekend was extremely lazy, but relaxing.  I watched 4 movies, read, and did some origami with one of Thomas’s old newspapers.  Productivity City!  This morning I gave the 2B class a quiz, which went well.  Last week I had to give two of the 2W boys zeros for cheating.  One odd thing, however: when I was leaning over answering a student’s question, I am almost positive the boy behind him plucked out one of my hairs.  How on earth am I supposed to react to that?

Shivagala Primary School children