After a stressful week of national examinations, late night cramming sessions under dull-glowing solar lamps and mid-day bean and flour stomach cramming sessions before afternoon tests, the good form four students of Makong’onda Day were ready for a little break. Actually, they were ready for a long break, as the end of their national examinations marked the end of their ordinary level school careers. Due to lack of rainfall, thus causing the lack of a cashew crop, the students were unable to pay for their graduation outfits and celebration this year, and thus it was concluded that there would be no celebration at all. Feeling the need for closure, I proposed that we have one final soccer match: Form Four students vs. the world, 5 dollars to the winner. The students agreed readily and on October 14th, the action went down.
Because this was an event of infinite importance (the pride of the Form 4 boys on the line, the rest of the school wanting to take them down), nearly the entire village turned out for the match. Before the game the traditional camp emerged, the form 4 boys crowding around the hut of one of their supporters and trying on the schools frayed jerseys and soccer shoes (though we all knew the soccer shoes would come off their feet not even 20 minutes into playing), singing, desecrating their old school uniforms with borrowed American Sharpies, and finally, marching together to the field, to the hoots and cheers of most of the village (the other half was still deluded into thinking the rest of the school stood a chance).
The game began, and with it followed the ever traditional smack talk. It is unclear to me at this point whether I enjoy soccer games for the love of the sport, or for the creativity with which the fans of one team insult the fans of the other team. The form four fan base, made up primarily of the boys who were not playing, began by singing, chanting, and synchronized dancing around the field – dancing into or through or on-top-of the other students’ fans. The other students retaliated with several dances and songs of their own, though they were rewarded for their efforts by the sounds of screaming as the form four students scored their first and second goals during the first quarter.
The second quarter should have marked a turning point for the other students, who, with help of one embarrassed teacher (who later insisted he wasn’t trying to help them as a coach but more or less give them a few tips on how to lose more gracefully), and with the help of two fresh additions to the team, should have been able to make the two goals to put them back to a tie. They were able to score one goal, which sent the form three students screaming, cartwheeling, and backflipping across the field, terrified babies strapped to the backs of the female students. Alas the game was considered over when the form four students were able to score the last goal (even though the person who scored was being guarded by two other players, the goal keeper in the goal), then it became a battle of the last man standing. By the very end of the match, two injured form four students had to be helped off the field, a league of form 2 boys screaming and launching themselves onto the field like a herd of crazed antelope at every fallen man to carry/drag them from the pitch.
As the whistle shrilled the form four boys began singing a song, beseeching me to give them their 5$ (because they had beaten the crap out of form 3…or something along those lines). Once in possession of the money, the person who held the money was hoisted to the shoulders of the other students, and bumped along the field, their song loud and probably reaching every corner of Makong’onda. The rest of the students couldn’t stay angry at the rambunctious form fours, after all, this was their official last game. Everyone joined into their ridiculous song, and most ended up callopsed on the ground, in fits of giggles, or exhaustion.
It was a finale to be remembered, and their loud singing, obnoxious jeers, and determined playing are how I will always remember the Makong’onda Class of 2009.
Because this was an event of infinite importance (the pride of the Form 4 boys on the line, the rest of the school wanting to take them down), nearly the entire village turned out for the match. Before the game the traditional camp emerged, the form 4 boys crowding around the hut of one of their supporters and trying on the schools frayed jerseys and soccer shoes (though we all knew the soccer shoes would come off their feet not even 20 minutes into playing), singing, desecrating their old school uniforms with borrowed American Sharpies, and finally, marching together to the field, to the hoots and cheers of most of the village (the other half was still deluded into thinking the rest of the school stood a chance).
The game began, and with it followed the ever traditional smack talk. It is unclear to me at this point whether I enjoy soccer games for the love of the sport, or for the creativity with which the fans of one team insult the fans of the other team. The form four fan base, made up primarily of the boys who were not playing, began by singing, chanting, and synchronized dancing around the field – dancing into or through or on-top-of the other students’ fans. The other students retaliated with several dances and songs of their own, though they were rewarded for their efforts by the sounds of screaming as the form four students scored their first and second goals during the first quarter.
The second quarter should have marked a turning point for the other students, who, with help of one embarrassed teacher (who later insisted he wasn’t trying to help them as a coach but more or less give them a few tips on how to lose more gracefully), and with the help of two fresh additions to the team, should have been able to make the two goals to put them back to a tie. They were able to score one goal, which sent the form three students screaming, cartwheeling, and backflipping across the field, terrified babies strapped to the backs of the female students. Alas the game was considered over when the form four students were able to score the last goal (even though the person who scored was being guarded by two other players, the goal keeper in the goal), then it became a battle of the last man standing. By the very end of the match, two injured form four students had to be helped off the field, a league of form 2 boys screaming and launching themselves onto the field like a herd of crazed antelope at every fallen man to carry/drag them from the pitch.
As the whistle shrilled the form four boys began singing a song, beseeching me to give them their 5$ (because they had beaten the crap out of form 3…or something along those lines). Once in possession of the money, the person who held the money was hoisted to the shoulders of the other students, and bumped along the field, their song loud and probably reaching every corner of Makong’onda. The rest of the students couldn’t stay angry at the rambunctious form fours, after all, this was their official last game. Everyone joined into their ridiculous song, and most ended up callopsed on the ground, in fits of giggles, or exhaustion.
It was a finale to be remembered, and their loud singing, obnoxious jeers, and determined playing are how I will always remember the Makong’onda Class of 2009.
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