Day 2 of the Tournament
On New Years Day we continued the tournament. Saying it was a success would be a great understatement.
Kick off - December 31, 2011 10pm
On December 31, 2011, we had the first day of the tournament in Bamako
The Crew
The is the Little Eagles winter 2011 group in order: African Sky Founder Scott Lacy, Myself, and Project Director Sekou Kante
Holy S%**, I'm in Africa!
The title says it all
Arriving in Mali
After a long plane ride, with a layover in Paris, I finally arrived in the Malian Capital, Bamako.
Holy S%&*, I’m in Africa!
I ni ce! (Pronounced: E nee chay! )
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| Action on the pitch. |
Hello! Our first full day in Mali had us going nonstop. We started out by meeting Yacouba and going across the street from the hotel for some breakfast sandwiches at a small shack. People were gathered around eating breakfast and watching a small TV set up on a shelf playing a movie. We took a seat on a bench and the two boys (probably in their early teens) manning the shack cooked us up some eggs and put them in some delicious bread. It was an absolutely gorgeous day, by northeast American standards anyway, at about 70 degrees. Many of the Malians walked around in winter jackets and scarves.
Once we scarfed those down, we took a taxi (really extravagantly painted with Green, Red and Yellow stripes on the side and the word “Champion” written across the top of the windshield, and a big Ghadaffi sticker on the dashboard) across the city to Yacouba’s house, tucked away down an alley. A number of neighborhood kids (many of whom knew Scott) came to watch us, and stood tentatively in a corner as Scott and Yacouba talked, and the women prepared food and washed clothes. We were served a frothy, strong tea served in a glass the size of about a double shot, which we sipped on.
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| The neighborhood behind the goal. |
A little while later, Sekou showed up on his motorbike, and we excitedly hugged and got acquainted. I gave him a Black Little Eagles jersey, which he gleefully ran into the house and changed into. After he came back out he became my karamoko, and began teaching me Bamanankan, the local language. I quickly filled pages of my notebook with words for greetings, soccer terms (of course), colors, body parts, numbers, days of the week, and tons of random words (and how to tell a girl she’s pretty. That makes 5 languages now).
We kept at it until lunch, and Scott, Drew, Sekou, Yacouba, and I went inside to sit around a small table with a large bowl on top in one of two small rooms in the house (the other being the bedroom). The bowl contained Senegalese rice, delicious fish (some kind of freshwater carpe), eggplant, ochre, and some other vegetables. Absolutely splendid; I loved it. We all sat in a circle around the bowl and dug in (with our right hand of course), balling up the rice against the side of the bowl and tossing the savory morsel in our mouths.
Once we had all had our fill, we hung around and chatted for a while about the plans for the upcoming two weeks. Scott also showed off the new trailer for an upcoming documentary about African Sky (which is awesome, I’ll post the link when it’s available). Sekou then took Drew and I to go to the local field to watch some soccer. The “field” is a relatively flat space of sand and crushed rock at the bottom of a quarry (although a creek runs through the side of it), that is enclosed by rock, making a natural walled indoor court with ledges where spectators would watch. Behind one end was a high ledge with houses on top and hills in the background. On the other side was the trash runoff from the neighborhood. The group on the field was a neighborhood team in their late teens/early 20s, which sported neon yellow and orange bibs and played 7 a side. Some of the players had cleats, while others had sandals that were heavily taped around the foot. Man, were these guys tough. Despite it being a practice, these guys went all out and played out a very physical game with bone crunching tackles. It was very entertaining and we watched for about an hour, along with a couple dozen other spectators and a group of children that followed us from Yacouba’s house. (Links of the videos will be posted – the upload speeds are really slow at the Hotel. More pictures can be found here -http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150433572636862.355715.286762146861&type=1 ) Occasionally, the game would pause for mothers walking through the field with their children to get to the other side of the field, or a boy with a sewing machine would run through. A couple of the younger kids grabbed the balls when they were shot behind the goal (there weren’t any nets).
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| Watching the Practice |
We then said our goodbyes and headed back to the hotel to meet none other than “Bill Clinton”. Bill was our money guy, and converted our US dollars to Mali CFAs. With our new money, we went out to Savana restaurant for dinner. After the BlaBla Bar and seeing the Savana, I’ve realized that it’s incredibly difficult to explain Mali restaurants without showing someone a picture. Savana, like BlaBla, is an upper end spot, except that this was open air. It was actually a little chilly out (lower 60s), which is very rare. There were a couple of trees growing through the middle of the restaurant, with a bunch of smaller potted palm tree plants. The wooden tables (just barely enough room for 4 people) were surrounded by zebra print chairs, which matched the print around the side of the bar. The whole restaurant was surrounded by various colored Christmas tree lights. These lights also formed a makeshift drape in the doorway, which you walked through to enter. On the wall on the side of the kitchen, there was a mural depicting an African tribal scene. On the other side were wooden booths under a canopy, with African styled stick figures painted on the wall doing various activities, such as playing instruments.African tribal symbols lined the edges of the canopy.
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| Two younger boys playing behind one of the goals. They also served as ball boys. |
The crowd was mostly non-African when we arrived, which eventually turned to predominantly Malian as the night progressed. The expats there drive mostly smaller SUVs and jeeps, which lined the street outside. We each ordered a personal pizza (mine was pretty decent, with sausage and bacon), and listened to the house band (guitar, keys, bass, percussion, and two female singers), who were fantastic. They played an interesting mix of Malian music and very, very random American songs. And when I say random, it was like a trivia game trying to identify the song as soon as you could recognize it. Songs that included the likes of Lauren Hill, Headway’s “What is Love”, John Lennon’s “Imagine All the People”, and an Oliver Mtukudzi (Zimbabwe) track, which I was incredibly impressed with myself for recognizing. They were all exquisitely played and sang, and added a little African flair with the guitar licks. I really enjoyed it.
Tomorrow is another landmark for Little Eagles, as we host our first major tournament between 4 local Bamako teams!
-R
Kick off - December 31, 2011 10pm
You know you’re up too late when you hear the morning call to prayer…
We were up at 9am and out the door about 15 minutes later, and met up with Yacouba and Sekou outside the hotel. Sekou had just come from preparing the pitch for today’s tournament, located in his neighborhood. Scott went with Yacouba to buy some things, while Drew and I took off with Sekou to the market. The market is a sprawling section of Bamako, with hundreds of small vendors selling just about everything. We made our way to a shop selling books, and Sekou bartered for 100 notebooks, 100 pens, and 100 pencils, 50 of each for the participants of both tournaments. In total, we spent around $50 USD for everything.
After the vendors wrapped up our bundles of school supplies, the three of us walked a bit down the street to some stands selling soccer gear. We picked up 4 balls at around $12 USD a pop, but couldn’t find a trophy for the champions for a low enough price, even in a second shop we tried (they were asking around $40 USD for a medium sized trophy, most of which had small cracks in it). One of the vendors claimed to have seen me playing for the US National team.
We caught a cab ride back to the hotel (for $2 bucks), picked up the jerseys we needed for the tournament, and went over to Yacouba’s house for lunch. We sat around with the neighborhood kids and watched TV on a small set that was rolled out from inside. The first was an Anglo-French soccer news program, which I was happy about, and the second was news. Two of the younger girls sitting outside with us started talking and playing with Scott and I. One of the girls pointed at Scott and said “Che” (“man”). Then she pointed at Drew and again said, “Che”. Then she pointed at me and said “Wu so!” (“woman”), and giggled. Scott and I tried to correct her by insisting that I was, indeed, a “che” as well, but couldn’t be convinced. We then started playing a clapping game (kind of like patty cake), which turned into the girls counting on our fingers.
When it was time for lunch, Scott, Yacouba, their friend, Drew, and I, went inside and had lunch, which consisted of white rice prepared with a Mali sauce, the same variety of vegetables in yesterday’s dish, and bits of mutton. When we finished eating, we sat around and talked for a while until Sekou came back to take Drew and I to his neighborhood, well off the beaten path where non-Africans are rarely seen. After meeting Sekou’s family, it was time to start!
We were introduced to the four coaches (each representing a team from different sections of the neighborhood), Sekou and I handed out the jerseys to each team, and we were underway! I could not have asked for a better day. The weather wasn’t too hot (70s-80s with a cool breeze) and the soccer was phenomenal, contested by 8 man teams with players ranging from 10-14. Given that it was a holiday and kids were out of school, supporters were out in droves, with upwards of a couple hundred in attendance. I was invited out to the center circle by the referee for an honorary kick off, a gesture I wasn’t expecting and which really touched me.
The first match, fresh in their new kits, was between Blue and Red. The teams went at it full force, and you could tell from the coaches’ excitement that it was no friendly. The same hard challenges and bone crunching tackles we witnessed in training with the older kids yesterday were even more present and vicious today. Each player came to win. The second teams to play were even doing warm up exercises off to the side during the first match.
Blue, who were noticeably smaller than their opponents, were on the back foot from the start of the match. About midway through the first half, Blue managed to string together a few nice passes to find an open striker near the goalie box, who expertly slotted the shot in the far, bottom right corner. The section of the crowd that had come out to support that team erupted with the same enthusiasm a world cup match. I mean they went absolutely bonkers! Kids were running around screaming in joy, others invaded the pitch to embrace the scorer. I was choked up; It took all I had to prevent myself from crying in happiness. This is what I dreamed about 5 years ago. And it was unfolding in front of my eyes. Even now as I write this, I can’t help but become overwhelmed with emotion.
Eventually, the referee restored order and the game was back underway, and the score held at 1-0 until the end of the first 30 minute period. After a brief intermission, the second half kicked off. After going up 2-0, Blue found themselves at the end of a Red assault, eventually conceding. Smelling blood, Red pressed hard, but would later give up the crucial goal, going down 3-1 against the run of play. The final whistle blew to another eruption and pitch invasion surrounding the winners.
Since we didn’t receive our missing bag from the airport containing the rest of our jerseys, we had to borrow the red jerseys from the first game and give them to one of the teams in the second match. The other team received purple jerseys. Only about 10 minutes after the opening whistle, Purple sent a lob cross from just inside midfield, finding a rising striker who sent the ball past the keeper with a glancing header. Red’s coach exploded into life, pacing the sideline barking orders to his team. This was serious.
Inspired by the coach’s remarks, Red controlled the remainder of the first half, but couldn’t find their first goal, coming close on numerous occasions. One drilled low shot rattled the wooden left post, resulting in a unified “OHHH!” from around the pitch. After going down by two goals, Red eventually crossed to find an unmarked, free close range header, which grazed the top of the sagging goal. The referee whistled and pointed to the center circle, indicating a goal, giving the Red supporters a long awaited celebration. Purple went on to pull away, however, eventually taking the match by a final score line of 4-1.
Tomorrow’s semi final will be contested between the two Red teams, followed by the big final between Blue and Purple. This was an amazing culmination of the efforts and contributions put into this project by so many people. I can honestly say it’s been one of the best experiences of my life…and we still have a final and the Dissan tournament to go!
It’s time to head out for the New Year’s celebration, which we will be spending at Toumani Diabetes’ restaurant, Le Diplomat. Insha’allah, we’ll be treated to a performance by the man himself. Only two more hours until the New Year, and this one couldn’t have ended better. I can’t wait to see what 2012 has to offer. Until I get some time to upload pictures to this blog, check the ones out from today at facebook.com/littleeaglesfootball.
I hope everyone back home has a wonderful and safe New Year’s eve! Blessings from Mali!
-R
