Lunch today was much more spirited than usual. My neighbor Thomas came into the office, I have not seen him in two weeks, but I greet him with, “Yeah for World Cup starting today!” and a high five. This gets the whole team talking and arguing. Mainly about Brazil or Portugal. This cup, they are in the same group, which promises an intense head to head (June 25th). People here love Brazil, but they also love Ronaldo (Portugal’s star footballer), so there is a bit of a tension. I of course am loyal to Portugal (Santos family heritage). We all battle it out a bit, and then make plans for the opening game this evening. It is a rather uninspiring match up, South Africa v Mexico, but most of us support South Africa for patriotic reasons. All but Thomas. He says he loves football too much to support a team for patriotic reasons. I try to paint the picture of the hope and excitement the cup brings to this continent, and of how devastated we will all be if South Africa looses the first game of Africa’s World Cup. He will hear none of it.
4:30 rolls around and the 8 people going to town to watch the match from Murgwanza converge at the church compound to hitch a ride with the vehicle. There are some new faces, and I begin to ask “Portugal or Br…” they cut me off, “Brazil, of course.” I am most definitely out numbered. I feel myself getting more excited for the games to come.
We pull up to the Sky Giraffe, one of the two bars in town. By bar I mean a fenced in yard, with thatch roof covering a corner. Thomas has been promising me that they have a HUGE screen, biggest in Ngara. From my previous visits, I only remember a tiny little TV with horrible sound. We enter, and under the thatch structure is a big TV, about the size of most standard American household TVs, and rows and rows of men sitting in plastic chairs. We get some of the last chairs in the back. As it turns out, the one thing Tanzanians will be on time for is World Cup. The waiter in his usual dingy “kiss me I’m Irish” shirt comes around to collect our 300 shilling ($0.25) entrance fee and get us some sodas.
In the US, we would use the World Cup as a great excuse to start drinking beer at 10am. Here it is 5pm on a Friday, and not a single man has ordered a beer. Fantas and Cokes all around. Is this game too serious to drink? I find myself wondering. Being that I am sick and sitting next to the Vicar General of the (dry) Anglican Church, I follow suite and order a Fanta orange. The tension is mounting as we watch the national anthem. My heart is racing along is everyone in the room. The World Cup is officially open. I clap. Alone. It felt strangely anticlimactic. I wanted to yell, this is the World Cup people! Africa’s World Cup!
When we came in, it was clear that I was the only mzungu in the place, but as I looked around, I am also the only woman. So I guess I deserve all of the strange looks I was getting.
For the first ten minutes, Mexico dominates the field with a number of shots on goal. Thomas looks at me gloatingly and asks if I am in his camp yet. I go on about standing by your team, but the guy to my left starts wavering. Everyone seems really reserved. I expected much more excitement and involvement for the first game of this cup, Africa’s Cup. It turns out that I am louder, and perhaps more foul mouthed than everyone in there (I was trying to keep it under control, but it is second nature when the opposition is passing the ball through your defense towards the goal). Mexico scores and we all go silent (or more silent). I bury my head in my scarf and miss the ref’s offsides call, nulling the point. That gets a little rise from the crowd.
Half time rolls around, it is still 0-0. South Africa is on the offense a bit more, but still, nothing too promising. Everyone gets up, and it seems, decided that at this point in the game it is time to drink, they return with beer in hand. Thomas asks again if I am now voting (his word) for Mexico. South Africa has upped their game, I am not making any pronouncements, but it might be a draw.
About 10 minutes into the 2nd half, South Africa is aggressively sprinting down the field with the ball, the ball is expertly passed to the wing, and he shoots up and over the goalie landing with a swish in the upper corner of net. A Qwik Goal as my old coach would have said.
UPROAR!!!! We all shot to our feet, hands in the air, screaming and jumping. YEAH!!! People were literally hanging from the rafters. The joy I felt is difficult to capture. I think a lot of it was relief. It was important that South Africa got the first goal of the cup! We were now in the game for good. The tension was broken, I was no longer the only one yelling at the screen. Everyone was on the edge of their seat ready for them to do it again.
Mexico evens it out. We try to get a few more in, but they deflect off the goal posts. And, just like that, the game ends. Tied up, 1-1. Everyone gets up without saying much and leaves. In a hurry to get some food before the second game starts.
