The soccer match, from the sidelines

When we arrived at the second school yesterday, we were expecting to casually kick a ball around with some kids. They, however, had something altogether different in mind. Nearly three thousand kids came running as our bus arrived, and at first we wondered how the few of us were going to play with all those children without being completely mowed down.

Then, with some help from the teachers, the sea of children parted. As they cleared out of the way, the situation started to become more worrisome: we found ourselves staring at an enormous, overgrown, lumpy, rock-filled soccer field that seemed to stretch on forever. The kids lined three sides of the field in rows three or four deep. The fourth side had hedges and trees, but they quickly filled up with people from the surrounding area who had come to watch what was sure to be quite a spectacle. People were climbing up in trees and keenly peering through the vegetation, trying to get a glimpse of the white folks who were about to get owned on the soccer field.

Shortly thereafter, we realized the full extent of what we'd gotten into. The school team came running out in their football uniforms, and they were ready for a smack down. These were big, strong, serious-looking teenagers, and they meant business.

After I sized up the situation, I generously designated myself as team photographer and got the hell out of the way.

The game was pretty exciting and our team put in a valiant effort, but to be honest I didn't get to see too much of the action. Standing on the sidelines, I quickly drew a crowd of kids who wanted to stand near me - my presence in their midst was obviously quite a novelty. Before long I was surrounded on all sides by a mob of children, probably 80 or more of them. They were all staring at me and whispering to one another, and each time I turned to look at a child he or she would shyly look away and they would all start giggling.



Before long, I felt tiny fingers gently touching my arms, and little tugs on the back of my hair. If i turned to see who was touching me, they'd all get very embarrassed and duck behind their friends. I told them "it's okay" and they started to get a little bolder; all of them, it seemed, wanted to know if my skin felt the same as theirs, or what my hair was like (most of the kids we've seen, both boys and girls, are bald.)







After about 30 minutes, the game concluded. It probably goes without saying, but our team lost. The children reluctantly moved on to their assembly to continue with the day, and the villagers vanished from the hedges to return to work. As our bus pulled away we all yelled a fond "murabeho" to the kids we spent a short but wonderful afternoon with on the worst - and by far the best - soccer field I've ever seen.

(photos to come)

Location:Kigali-Kayonza Rd,Rwamagana,Rwanda