The love of the game
“The goal kick is taken short by Shayo and collected by Msuya. The captain sends it wide to Mkapa who plays a lovely one-two with Marwa, taking three players out of the game instantly. He sends a beautiful lofted pass towards the target man Mabula who chests it down into the path of Mollel.
That’s a lovely touch from the big man to get him beyond Mapula, the ball is under his control, he hits it on the bounce... GOOOAAAAALLL! That is a fantastic finish from the season’s leading goal scorer! 1-0 to the boys in blue. This has set things up for a brilliant game of football.”
This may sound like a championship commentary, with a stadium full of football legends, screaming fans and incessant honks of the vuvuzela. In reality, this match has none of that. There are no television cameras, radio commentaries or high-tech VAR systems. In fact, in the middle of the dry season, there is not even a single blade of grass on the pitch.
In this match, Frenchman Paul Pogba, Brazilian Neymar Junior, Argentinian Lionel Messi and Spaniards like David De Gea and Diego Costa, are nowhere to be seen.
This football match takes place on the dusty grounds of a small Maasai village called Nainokanoka, located on the eastern side of the Olmoti Crater in the Ngorongoro Conservation Area. All of the footballers on this pitch are staff from local safari camps.
During the low season, safari camps play against each other in friendly games and mini tournaments to keep spirits high and competition alight. Local families and fellow villagers often come to watch the matches, but spectator numbers are still relatively low.
In comparison, thousands of local Tanzanians crowd around satellite televisions and smart phones to follow the latest matches of the English Premier League, or even the UEFA Champions League.
English giants like Manchester United, Arsenal, Liverpool and Chelsea are the favourites. The most recent transfers, goals and controversies from England are often the start of every passionate debate in the smallest of villages, or the remotest of safari camps.
When safari vehicles meet each other, they often stop to have a brief chat. Most of the time, the conversation between safari guides goes something like this:
“Hey man, how are you? What have you seen this morning? Just south of the swamp is a huge elephant herd with three newborns. There are vultures circling close by but we haven’t spotted anything on the ground yet. We have been trying to find lions all morning though, have you seen the pride anywhere?”
However sometimes, it goes like this:
“Hey man, how are you? Did you hear about Naby Keita? Liverpool bought him for £50 million which is ridiculous, but I think he will bring a lot of creativity and strength to the midfield. Let’s see who they put up in the lineup on Saturday. It’ll be a good one. Anyway, better go, animals to find...”
A safari guide named Ali, an avid Chelsea supporter, explained why Tanzania has such a love affair with football. He said that one of the main reasons is that it is accessible to everyone, especially to those in very remote and poor villages. The villagers are incredibly resourceful. Old, rag clothes are creatively tied together in a compact ball to make a football. Stones and rocks are positioned to outline the pitch, and two glass coke bottles filled with sand are strategically placed to define the all-important goalposts.
Who needs state-of-the-art football boots? In fact, who needs shoes?
Among others on the pitch, the waiter in midfield, the safari guide playing up-front and the chef guarding the goal are all strong role models. They show how, alongside a professional job, you can still be energetic and imaginative by creating a football pitch from nothing, in the middle of nowhere.
To Ali, and many other Tanzanians, football is so much more than two goalposts and a pitch. It is about connecting local people with a common interest and passion, regardless of their status, income and material possessions. It is a fun and accessible sport and that, in itself, is all that matters.
Written by Gemma D’Souza