Africa, My Passion

by Corinne Hofmann

  At last the biggest sports club in Africa has become self-sufficient and it’s time for their home-grown managers to take charge of all the sporting activities, including that of their most famous offspring: Mathare United FC.

  By now it’s really hot but the mixed football team – girls and boys playing together – are about to take on a rival team, after which there’ll be music and dancing. All morning there’s been music coming from the loudspeakers, save for when it’s interrupted for announcements. The atmosphere is great and there’s a smile on everybody’s face.

  Before the music begins I take time to chat with a few of the young people. I come across one group who’re clearly getting ready to perform. They immediately ask me which country I live in. When I say Switzerland two boys immediately come over to me with big smiles on their faces and tell me, ‘Our music group was in Switzerland in 2009 to play for the United Nations. Geneva was so beautiful.’ Astonished to find somebody here who’s been to Switzerland, I ask them what they liked most of all. ‘Everything was so clean. There was no paper lying on the streets. People even picked up dog poo and put it in plastic bags – just incredible.’ The two eighteen-year-olds laugh and shake their heads in astonishment. I can see that if you live in a stinking slum something like that must seem mad indeed.

  But they’re only getting going. Their eyes light up as they tell me, ‘The water in the big lake there was so clean you could see the fish in it. You can’t do that at Lake Victoria. And the cars in Geneva were so funny. Once before a performance our group was picked up in a limousine as big as a house. You wouldn’t believe it – there was even a table and chairs inside. And a bed.’

  The second boy says, ‘There was more space in that car than in my house. It really was just like a house on wheels that you could drive around.’

  When I ask them if they liked the food in Switzerland they perk up even more and say, ‘Well, it was okay but sometimes we were amazed by it. At one stage we were served meat tied together with string and we didn’t know what sort of animal it came from and whether or not we were supposed to eat the string. After all, it was served up on the plate.’

  The first boy butts in to say, ‘But the potato soup was really good, and the meat. It was so soft. I’ve never had anything like it.’

  Both were determined to go back to Switzerland some day. They hoped their band would get a tour booking so they could stay a long time. It’s time for the group to perform so I slip back to my seat. By now all the seats are full and I’m amazed to see how many white faces there are in the audience.

  The dance group of seven girls, four boys and four drummers take to the stage. There are lots of young people and children standing or sitting round the edge of the pitch, the little ones at the front. Girls of every age are all dressed up beautifully. There are red, yellow and white dresses with ruffles. They’ve scrubbed up well, done their hair nicely and oiled their faces to make them glisten. You would never know that these were slum-dwellers. Yet again I’m amazed at how they manage to keep themselves so well turned-out given the conditions they live in. A few of the little ones are licking homemade ice lollies which some business-savvy women are selling out of cool boxes.

  The drummers start up and the dancers, male and female, start swaying rhythmically if a little shyly. They are all aged between thirteen and eighteen. The girls all seem relatively mature compared to the boys, who cut rather slight figures in comparison. Each girl has a cloth wrapped around her hips and her upper body. The boys dance bare-chested with only a little chain around their necks.

  As the rhythm builds the girls match it with the sway of their hips, stamping their feet and singing African songs. Then the boys join in and it gets faster and faster. Gradually the girls drift into the background and it’s the boys up front doing a wild, foot-stomping African dance, writhing their slim bodies in every direction so that they resemble human snakes. You can see the ribcages on a few of them, which reminds me uncomfortably of what some of the kids said: that they probably haven’t eaten today. Nearly all of them get only one meal a day, usually in the evening. The young boys and girls spinning through the air, sweat dripping down their faces from the heat, is an unforgettable sight. The rhythm gets to me so much that I can hardly keep on my seat.

  Their faces beam in recognition of the storm of applause as they finish. The little members of the audience sitting round the pitch clap their hands enthusiastically and the bigger ones whistle in admiration. I could have sat there all night watching them, but the party is gradually coming to an end. Sponsors are handing out cheques, which go straight to the school for whichever child they are subsidising. At the end Bob and Helge give a thank-you speech and gradually people are directed towards the exits. As we too are making our way out, wholly impressed by everything we’ve seen, I look back and see Helge sitting there on his own, with his head down looking at the vase full of individual roses he was given. Just like Bob he’s given his all to this football club and now it’s finally time to say goodbye. Things will have to carry on without him, which is how he intended it. He’ll come back every year, though, he told me, just like everyone else who falls in love with this country.

  FOOTBALL SUPERSTARS IN A DIFFERENT UNIVERSE

  Two days after the big party Jecton calls me up and invites me to come and interview some of the players at the club after they’ve finished training. I can’t wait to see if the players will really open up and tell me something of their lives in the short time we’ll have.

  This time there are no problems getting there and I’m surprised to find their trainer Francis Kimanzi a lot friendlier than last time. As he shakes my hand he tells me he’s already started reading my book The White Masai and is finding my story quite incredible. I feel very flattered. Then he leads me into a side room and asks me what I’d like to drink while introducing me to the players who’ve volunteered to talk to me about their lives. Then he leaves us alone.

  Sitting in front of me are three young men, all showered and changed after training. They are rather shy and it’s not easy to get them talking. And I’m not sure how to get into a conversation with professional footballers, given that I don’t know much about football and really want to talk to them about their private lives.

  I start out with Antony, the team captain. He’s tall and very good-looking. He has a relaxed open manner and soft dark eyes, a full, sensuous mouth with a wisp of a moustache, and a gold chain around his neck. He has an elegant watch on his left wrist, which looks like a piece of jewellery against his dark skin, and there’s a slight whiff of male fragrance. I can imagine he has a lot of female fans. I find it a lot harder to believe he still lives near the slums.

  I ask him how old he is and he answers me in a clear, strong voice: ‘I’m nearly twenty-three and I was brought up in the Mathare slum. Our close neighbours were criminals, drunks and prostitutes. I can’t recall even five minutes when I was happy back then. I have five brothers and sisters, two of them already married and three still back home with my parents and grandparents. I live with my girlfriend, but I support my two younger brothers and do my best to save money so that one day I might be able to open a small shop.’

  In contrast with all the other people I’ve spoken to his parents are still together. I mention this to Antony and he is obviously proud of it. ‘Yes, they’ve always set an example for me. Even in the worst of times they did their best to get us through. My father is a car mechanic and still works hard at his job. But things have only really started to get better for us since my mother began selling vegetables. Up until then we had to go to school hungry. The best part of my life back then was that sometimes I would go to the football with my grandfather. I was hooked on the game from an early age. When I was just ten somebody at school told me about MYSA. One of their people came to the school and said, “Don’t just hang about after school, get involved in sport. Start up a team, find people ready to do disciplined training and then you can join us: we’ll give you a ball, shi
rts and let you play in one of our leagues. If you show willingness, we’ll do the rest.”

  ‘That was the turning point for me. I said to myself, “Antony, take on the challenge, get a team together.” Before long I was playing in the under-twelve league. It was the start of my career. By the time I was fourteen I was offered the chance to go to Norway to play. That was amazing: being offered the chance of getting into an airplane and flying to Europe. It was a real carrot on a stick for me and I worked really hard. It took four years but I made the grade,’ he says with obvious pride.

  I ask him how it felt to make his first flight in an aircraft. He laughs and says, ‘I was really nervous sitting there on the plane, although not really afraid. A lot of my friends who’d already been to Norway had told me about it. But the reality was much more impressive. I’ve scarcely words to describe it. I’d never seen such beautiful streets, such big houses and smart cars and such beautiful girls.’ The others laugh at his last addition to the list.

  I ask him if he’d have liked to stay there and he says, ‘Not back then. I was too young. But now I’m working hard at my career. I’ve been captain for two years. I’ll never forget the day we won the cup. We played in front of forty thousand spectators. That was really something. Anyone would love that, and that’s why I’d really like to go to a European club. I want to be up there with the elite. Real Madrid, ideally, but there are lots of other great clubs. It’s not going to be easy but I’m not giving up my dreams. After all, nobody expected us to win the cup,’ he says proudly.

  I ask him if he has any other dreams, and he says, ‘Obviously I’d like to have a family with lots of children and hope that I can bring them up as well as my parents did with us. And I’d like to give something back to the young people in the slums who haven’t had the opportunities I’ve had. I’m proud to be a role model and would like to do more to change the way of life of people who end up stuck here. Sport is the answer for many of them. Sometimes it’s the only way to find the hope and strength to drag yourself out of poverty. You have to train hard, day after day, for no money and without ever knowing if you’re going to be offered a paid position with a club. Nowadays there are thousands of good football players in Kenya all dreaming of a professional career. That’s why I’m so proud to say I got picked by Mathare United, even if we don’t get paid as much as the others and don’t have the same sponsorship deals. Mathare is the name of a slum, so it doesn’t make for good advertising. Obviously we’d like to bring in more money and then we could do more to bring on young players. But it’s okay and we don’t have a bad life. We’re one big family and Francis Kimanzi isn’t just the best coach in Kenya, he’s a father figure for us all. He gives us stability, values, teaches us how to cope with success. You don’t get anything like that in any other club in Kenya. Lots of the players got to know one another through the MYSA system and have been playing together for ten years or more. You get friendships here you just don’t find in other clubs. Everyone here can rely on one another. You can leave your mobile phone or your wallet lying about in the dressing room and nobody will steal it. Nothing like that has ever happened and to me trust like that is worth more than money.’

  Joseph, one of the other two, nods at the lad sitting next to him and says, ‘I would trust him with every penny I had. But I wouldn’t leave him alone with my girlfriend.’ I ask if that’s because he doesn’t trust his girlfriend, but he bounces back with, ‘I have one hundred per cent faith in her, but I just don’t trust this guy when it comes to women!’

  Joseph and the obviously erroneously named Innocent are of comparatively slight build, though Joseph is clearly the bigger-boned. Innocent is a good-looking boy of about nineteen. With his dreadlocks and his well-proportioned, attractive face, I can imagine he’s an absolute heartthrob among the Kenyan girls. He’s very calm as he tells me that so far his life hasn’t been too bad. He is the youngest of eight children and as the baby of the family everybody fussed over him and looked after him. By the age of five he was already playing football with a ball he had made himself out of plastic bags and realised he was quite fast and agile. At seven he was already playing in a MYSA under-ten team.

  ‘And today he comes off the bench for Mathare United to replace me if I get tired,’ Joseph teases him. With his frizzy hair sticking out in all directions, a broad nose that rather dominates his face, and a little goatee beard on his chin, Joseph isn’t quite as good-looking as his two colleagues. But his laugh is infectious and he laughs quite a lot. He starts telling me his story good-humouredly.

  ‘I’ll be twenty-one soon and I’ve already been playing for Mathare United for some time. I’m the oldest in a family of three brothers and three sisters. There’s a lot of pressure when you’re the oldest. I had to start looking after my little brothers and sisters quite early on because my mother went out to work. My dad was either out of work or out looking for work. I was young and really needed a role model. Some of our neighbours were luckier and didn’t have to muddle through the way I did. Why me? I would ask myself. In the end things went downhill and I joined a gang. By the age of ten I was already drinking and smoking. The older ones forced me. We stole for a living. I gave the food I got at home to my little brothers and sisters. I wasn’t good enough to do the stealing myself, but I was fast enough to run off with the loot. The first my parents knew about any of it was when I was arrested and held at a police station overnight.

  ‘They beat me to scare me, but then my mother promised me that if I stopped running around with the gang and started playing football instead she would buy me a proper football shirt. It wasn’t easy for her to save enough money but she did it and in the end I got not one but two shirts. That meant I could wear one every day. Other kids who were trying to get a team together for MYSA noticed me and one evening they invited me to join them training. At the end of the night they included my name in the MYSA registration form. I’ve been playing ever since and I can tell you that MYSA has changed my life completely.

  ‘It was just luck that the other kids invited me to join them. Back then Mathare United didn’t exist and the press paid no heed to us. The only people you knew and who knew you were those who lived round and about. Nowadays it’s easier for kids to get in on the act.’

  I ask Joseph what was the biggest change in his life, and he says, ‘From the first day I stopped hanging out with the gang, I started training instead. I got to make new friends and new ambitions. As I’d had to look after my little brothers and sisters, people saw that I could manage responsibility and before long they made me captain. Corinne, I was just eleven years old, playing in the under-twelve league, but that same year I got to fly to Europe to take my team to the Norway Cup. Everything happened so fast I didn’t even have time to be scared of flying. I was just too excited. My mother was worried, though, as we would be away in Norway three weeks. She thought I’d never come back, and she insisted I took the number of the people next door who had a telephone, and call her. All the family came to the airport with me, even Grandad. We had to save up to rent a car big enough to take us all,’ he says with a grin.

  ‘Norway was like paradise. You could get everything. We got bread, apples, juice, just for breakfast. We stayed with local families who let us eat as much as we wanted. Of course they said, “Joseph, don’t eat so much, we’re going to have lunch and dinner too.” Even during training we got sandwiches, milk or juice rather than just water. The coach was furious, because after just two days we’d all put on weight and got fatter. We could hardly cope with the training.’

  I’m crying tears of laughter as he talks about it all. I can imagine they must have thought they were living the dream.

  ‘I was happy but I missed my family. I’d have given anything if they could have experienced life in Norway with me. When I came back at the end of the three weeks my uncle wanted to open my suitcase at the airport, he was so keen to find out what I’d brought him back from Europe. It was crazy, we had no money but the famil
ies we’d stayed with had given us T-shirts and socks and things so we had presents for everybody back home.

  ‘Last year I had a great season,’ he goes on. ‘I came third in the vote for player of the year. I was top scorer with the most goals, and I won three prizes,’ he tells us proudly.

  ‘I can imagine your parents are really pleased with you,’ I say.

  ‘Yes, they are very proud, but my name’s in the papers so much all my relatives think I have to have lots of money, which isn’t the case. Now my relatives up country keep expecting me to give them presents. My grandfather rings up every week wanting one thing or another. It’s not easy, especially given that I have to support my younger brothers so they can get through school. And I help my mum out financially too now and again. We don’t earn lots of money like they do at other clubs. I live with my girlfriend. And now her family are putting pressure on me to marry her. And doing things the traditional way in our society isn’t cheap. I have to go and make a formal visit to her family and take lots of my own family members with me. They all have to get together and talk and get to know one another better, and I have to pay for everything, even though they cook the meal. We have to have goat and beef and traditional beer. That all costs a lot of money, and that’s just the first meeting.

  ‘My girlfriend’s proud of me wanting to do it all the traditional way because that will really earn her a lot of respect from the rest of the family, and for me too. I want my wife to be highly thought of. And then later if we run into difficulties everybody will help, because we’re all just part of one big family. Not every woman is lucky enough to find a man who can afford to do everything the traditional way. My girlfriend tries to act as a role model for her younger sister and I have to do the same for my younger brothers. I want them to be able to do things the same way when they get married. I’m just pleased I’m able to make all that possible. It’s important to me. But I’m a bit nervous about it all,’ he says, blushing.