Amana Mbisi  - Football in Seela

 

 

 

I grew up in Arusha, the northern part of Tanzania. A member of the Rwa, or commonly known as the Meru tribe. I'm the fifth out of eight children. When I was at the age of four, I was sent to live with my grandfather. This was customary in my tradition. 

 

My grandfather taught me a lot of things. He taught me how to herd cattle, and how to grow coffee, how to take the coffee beans out during the day to dry in the sun and how to take it back in after sunset. He taught me how to hunt, and how to make our traditional medicine from the herbs that are found in the area. He would often tell me best wishes and prayers for me to succeed in life. 

 

I loved my grandfather very much, but I always wanted to be like my father. He was the first in his family to go to school. In fact, the only one to go beyond primary school. He studied economics, became a teacher. I understood from very early on that it was because of his education that he was able to change his family. He changed his family home, which was built from thatched roof and walls that were made from cow dung to an iron sheet roof and a brick wall. 

 

I have fond memories of herding cattle and playing with other kids. We would often play soccer. We made balls out of rags and straws from banana leaves. Now, these balls didn't bounce, but they did the trick. One summer, when I was the age of six, I was fortunate enough to have a soda. Now, sodas were a rare treat in my village, enjoyed only on special occasions. I remember very well, this time, it must have been for a baptism. 

 

Now, that summer, the Coca Cola Company was having a promotional campaign, where by drinking the soda and peeling the inside of the bottle cap, you could win various prizes, such as T-shirts and other giveaways. My brother, after opening the soda, he handed me the empty bottle to peel off the inside of the bottle cap. As I was peeling it, it revealed a picture of a soccer ball. It was my lucky day. I was so happy. I jumped up and down in celebration. 

 

The following day, I asked my Uncle Charles, if he would take the bottle cap to the city to the Coca Cola dealer to redeem my present. A week later, my Uncle Charles comes home with a soccer ball that had Coca Cola branding on it. It was nice and round. And it bounced so much better than the balls that we made from rags and banana leaves. I was so happy. 

 

A real soccer ball that bounced was next to the best thing that any child in my village could wish for. Because it was so special, I decided this ball will be kept for special use on special days and for special competitions. This was not an everyday ball. And so, word started going around the village that Amana, the son of Dalala, has a real soccer ball. Kids talked about it in their homes and in the streets. 

 

One day in the afternoon, a group of four boys came to my house. They were from the [unintelligible 00:41:46] Primary School, which was about two, three kilometers away from my home. At that time in the afternoon, I was outside with my cousin, Mirisho. We were herding cattle when these guys arrived. When they arrived at home, that day the school had a special competition, a sports day where different classrooms competed against each other in various games such as soccer, netball, long jump and 400-meter run. 

 

And so, the four boys had come to my house to ask if they could use the soccer ball on their sports day. When they asked, first of all, I wanted to say no, because I thought they were going to take away my ball. You know, I was only six years old. I was very protective of my ball and did not want anyone touch it. 

 

And so, I spoke to my mama mdogo, which will be my aunt. After talking to her, I decided, okay, I will let them use my ball. But I had two conditions. The first condition was that they would allow me to play with them in school. And the second condition is, I will carry the ball to school myself. They agreed. Apparently, they didn't have much choice. As we walked to school with my cousin, I was holding the ball. And the ball drew crowds of kids from the street who wanted to feel and touch the ball. I felt like a little celebrity. 

 

When we got to the school, I was walking-- I'm walking into the school, I see all these kids having fun. They are playing. I really liked their uniform. We went straight to the headmaster, who was standing on the side of the sports field. When I got there, he thanked me for allowing the school to use their soccer ball. And just as I was about to hand him the soccer ball, I thought of another condition. [audience laughter] I looked up at him, and holding the ball tight and snugly, I asked him if I could join the school. He looked at me surprised. And then, he asked, “How old are you?” I said, “Six.” “Can you count?” “Yes, up to 10.” “Safi sana.” Meaning, very good. 

 

“Now, one more test. Can you touch your opposite ear with your arm above your head?” I quickly raised my arm and reached for my left ear. I had passed. I had passed the two tests, which were actual tests called Anthropometric Measure of School readiness, [audience laughter] used by the Ministry of Education across the country. 

 

And so, Mirisho, my cousin, was also standing right next to me. He too was asked the same questions. Mirisho could not touch his ears, neither could he count up to 10. But he didn't look all that sad or emotional at all. And so, after that the headmaster told me to go and have my uniform made ready to start school, the following week. I was very excited. In fact, so excited that I decided to hand the ball to the boys and decided not to join them in playing. Instead, I went down on the ground and started learning how to write. In my mind, that was the day that I started school. 

 

On the first official day of school, walking from home, my grandfather told me, “Kalamu yako iwe.” Meaning, may your pen be sharp. At school, I felt a little bit out of place, mainly, because I was the youngest. But overall, I was really excited for the opportunity to go to school. I was also very happy about my new uniform, a pair of khaki shorts and a blue shirt. We carried our own books to writing, empty bottle caps which we wore around our neck for counting. We also carried firewood to make food for the teachers, and a broom to sweep around the school in the morning. 

 

I was determined to follow in my father's footsteps, but I was also very happy not to be working in the tanzanite mines, which were extremely exploitative of young people. The mine owners preferred kids, because kids with their small bodies made it easy to navigate the narrow paths of these dangerous mines. They called the little kids, Nyoka. Meaning, snake in Swahili.

 

Mirisho, my cousin, ended up working in the tanzanite mines. Now, say what you will about Coca Cola. But that day, that ball changed my life. Now, here I am today in Anchorage doing my post doctorate at the University of Alaska Anchorage School of Social Work. [audience cheers and applause] 

 

Yeah. Determined to follow in my dad's footstep of working in academia. And I can still touch my ears. Thank you very much. [audience laughter]