For the love of the game

One of the many advantages of being home on a regular basis has been the ability to attend regular netball trainings and games with the women’s team in the village. In the past I’ve just been watching to understand the game and its rules, but in the past couple weeks I’ve been playing a few times a week. The game’s really similar to basketball except no dribbling – which is fine because I was never much good at that anyways, lol. It’s been years and years since I played basketball, but its funny how much comes back to you, and I’d forgotten how much I had loved it. While there’s no backboard, the hoop is relatively low compared to my height, so it’s not too difficult for me to get the ball through it. People in the village love the fact I’m actually playing, and word is spreading fast of goal-shooter marika. And that’s far and away been the best part of it all, being able to form friendships with some of the other women in the community, and become known as Marika instead of the Mzungu. I even got to get up early one morning to help the team harvest a field to raise funds for the team. Multi-tasking for me really, I can learn more about the harvesting procedures and the rhythm of Malawian life, while gaining some trust and respect with the women.

As far as competitive games go though, I just travel with the team as a supporter, and as the men’s football team schedule usually coincides with the women’s netball schedule it means being part of a rowdy revelry in the back of a large truck signing songs with the wind flying in your face, aka one of the highlights of my week. The netball game is only half as long as the football game, which is a bonus because then I can watch the second half of that game too. And village football is an experience like no other. Last week the netball court was double booked, so we watched the football game in its entirety. It was a critical match with a neighboring team, and was neck and neck the whole way through. When the game was tied, with about 10 minutes left in the game, you could almost cut the tension with a knife – when suddenly WE SCORED! And the explosion of joy from the crowd was like nothing I’ve ever seen; the entire population of Mkombezi it seemed ran out on to the field arms waving, yelling and screaming, did a little individual dance and ran back to their spot around the outer perimeter. I just laughed with sheer joy at the spectacle, as I was completely taken aback. The antics died down quickly and the game finished with us maintaining the lead, much to the satisfaction of all our supporters. Its one of those memories I know I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life.
The fact the game is played for the most part in bare feet on a dirt field that is rarely level, only underlines the strength and skill of these men in my mind, and puts in perspective a real love of the game.