Ballball!

i finally got invited to play in a game of football. soccer or "ballball", that is.

yesterday i was walking home from the clinic thinking about how i really haven't been taking advantage of all the fresh tropical fruits in the region, and that i should be eating more because before i know it i'll be gone, back in America, staring at the shriveled imported papayas in Albertons, thinking about now. while i was deep in this reflection i heard my name called a few times but decided to ignore it. the caller took the initiative and walked up to me. i instantly recognized him but i had no idea from where. i decided not to pretend and asked him "how do i know you?". he was peculiar looking, his eyebrows were permanently tilted into a defensive position and his voice sounded like he was on a whispering debate team, quietly arguing his case through conversation.

"you don't remember me?" he asked.

"no, i'm sorry i don't. where do i know you from?"

"we met at the park, a few weeks back. you said you would come to play ballball with me and my friends but i haven't seen you since."

"ohhhhhhhh ya, that's right. hello again!" i replied. "hheeeyyy, but i did come for you! you said to show up the next day at 3 and i was there. i even waited an extra hour but nobody ever came" i was acting very blase about the whole thing, but it was the 3rd time someone had promised a big game of soccer that never ended up happening. each time i got my hopes up, put on my cleats, listened to the locals laugh that a girl was planning on playing soccer, and then walked home from the "park" disappointed at being stood up once again.

"yes, okay, i recall that now." he said "well i can promise you today will be an excellent match and i am inviting you, will you come?" his palms were pressed together while he talked, and he leaned forward, lawyer-like.

"what time?"

"the match will begin in one hours time. is that okay with you?"

"yes, that's great. i'll go home and change and meet you at the field?"

"yes, i'll be seeing you."

"okay, byyyyyeeee!" and i ran off.

i went home and put on my gear. i walked over to Collin's mothers house to tell them to go to the market without me. it was Friday, market day, and we had planned on shopping together. the whole family (minus a few) was stretched out in the shade on the porch; sakola, collin's, NanaKwame, the mothers, and grandmothers. Cheif, my ghost roommate, was missing of course.

i greeted the eldest women first, working my way down through the ages until i reached collin's. he gave me his usual stretchy smile and asked if i was planning on going to play ballball.

"yes and i'm excited." i said.

sakola let out a little grunt.

"what?" i asked.

he pointed at my shorts and shook his head. i knew he thought they were too short, but it was all i had. i refused to play soccer in a dress.

"nye (it is bad)" he said. i liked how he always spoke Twi, its been my greatest teacher.

i shrugged my shoulders.

the grandmothers started swatting at the air telling sakola to be quiet, that my shorts were just fine and that i should go play and enjoy myself.

if the grandmothers didn't think my shorts were short than i had a new gauge for sakolas conservatism. sometimes he reminded me of a little old man, very certain about his likes and dislikes and enjoying days set in routine. i could tell he felt uncomfortable when i made him go out of his way, like following me to the clinic. i wasn't going to ask anyone to come to the field, they all looked too comfortable. so i gave them a little wave and disappeared.

when i got to the field i saw about 10 men my age and older sitting underneath some trees laughing. i walked over to them.

"excuse me. how are you all doing?"

'i am fine's' littered the air.

"i am glad to hear that. now, can you please tell me if this is the place the ballball game will be at, and if you are the people i will be playing with today?"

i have found that when i speak formally i am better understood than if i just blurt out a question in my comfortable voice. sometimes i long to just speak casually, but when i do no one understands. so instead, i usually just call home for that.

no one seemed to know i was going to play with them and it was apparent because they all were giving each other confused looks. i didn't see my friend from town anywhere so instead i just sat in the middle of the big group of men and waited for him to show up.

"did you come to watch?" one of the guys asked.

"no. i came to play."

"YOU. you play ballball?" he spoke in twi to all his friends and there was an eruption of commentary. my brain couldn't translate fast enough so it went on standby. i just sat there and stared.

somebody threw a ball over to me and i picked it up. ahhhh, a language i spoke!

we all ran out to the huge dirt lot, positioned at an unfair angle, full of rocks and a few shrubs and two goal posts made with tree branches. this was the village's beloved field which also happened to be one of the few places around where my cell phone receives reception.

we kicked the ball around and chatted for a bit. when they saw i at least had ball handling skills and could take a decent shot on goal they invited me to play.

"you, kayceewa, (some people have started to incorporate a "wa" at the end of my name?)you will play with us!" one of the team members shouted towards me.

i looked over and saw my friend had arrived. he was trotting in my direction.

"hello!" i yelled.

he didn't speak until he came closer.

then he said, seriously and diplomatically, "it seems you have found the place. that is good. the other team is preparing for the match, they are over there." he pointed. "i have noticed you met the team. good, good. we are the Muslims. today it is Muslims against the others. you will be on our side."

as long as it wasn't the end of the world, i was fine with that.

he continued "now, i have invited you as our guest of honor. do not shame me. you have told me you know how to play, and i am trusting you. there are two 45 minute half's. would you like to start the first, or play the second?"

"i'd like to start, if that's possible."

"yes, yes of course, it's possible. now depending on how you play you be invited to the 2nd half. so prove yourself well."

his style of speech kick started some anxiety, and i began to mentally prepare as if it was the world cup. i couldn't let them down, he trusted me! i had been playing soccer with men my entire life and this game seemed to be the pinnacle of my "career". it didn't seem like such a big deal until he had come over to me and given me that little speech.

my palms were sweaty and i had a knot in my stomach.

i was hoping we'd wear jerseys, so at least i could tell who was my opponent and who wasn't.

my friend beckoned to me "come!"

i ran over to the tree.

"now" he said "we are just waiting for the jerseys. someone has gone to fetch them from a nearby village. he will be back shortly. until then, you should prepare yourself."

i assumed he meant i should stretch, so i did, and before i knew it red shirts, black shorts, and matching striped socks were being pulled out of a huge black bag and passed around to be put on.

somebody dangled a shirt in front of me and i grabbed it.

YUCK! it was sopping wet. i threw it back and asked for another.

the second one wasn't any better, so i threw it back too.

the third selection was damp, so i held onto it as i took charge and looked for a dry shirt.

no such luck.

"did people just play in these?" i yelled out amidst the frenzy.

"they have come from game in other village." someone answered. "you need socks. take these." he strung a thin limp pair of dirty socks over my arm. i removed them promptly and thought hard and fast. how could i get around wearing these clothes? my army print shirt was the furthest thing from red, and i wanted to be easily recognized and included in the game, so i took a deep breath and pulled the shirt over my head. it stunk, like the crotch of a joggers shorts. and it was long-sleeved. i pulled the socks up over my shins and tried to not pay too much attention to how they were feeling, all clammy and sticky.

my friend walked over with some shorts in his hands. they were practically dripping.

"um i think i'll just wear the shorts that i came in." fluffing them up to make them look more attractive.

"but why? don't you wish to appear the same as the team?"

"uh, i think i'm okay. my shorts are blue and those are black, close enough."

"okay i understand." he said.

but he had no clue.

"what number do you play?" he asked me.

"i like to play center midfielder."

"what number is that?"

"i forget" i confessed. "i'm sorry we don't use numbers where i'm from. i think it is 7 or 8 or no 6?!"

he bent down in the dirt and drew a field, numbering each position for me. we figured it out, and he put me as left forward.

"are you okay with that?" he asked.

"yes."

"now remember to have the heart of a lion. these men will be rough. you hear?"

"yes." the knot came back.

the referee, dressed in his clothes from the farm, walked on the field and blew the whistle. people started running and passing and colliding. huge clouds of dust were left in their tracks and the crowd had grown from a few people watching, to hundreds. i ran around and told myself this was no different than the Saturday morning soccer i play with my men in Chico, except that i hadn't gotten the ball yet and here my name was being called out like i was a star, like i was Mia Hamm or something. and it was making me insecure.

just as negative self talk was beginning to take over i noticed a bright blue shirt at the top of the hill.

Collins had come!

He had walked the distance to the field (i'd never seen him venture that far) and was waving his crutch around enthusiastically. he was cheering me on!!!

the rest of the game went beautifully. the Muslims won and i proved myself well. i made some great passes, got tackled a few times by big gangley men and managed to walk away still in one piece.

after the game i gulped down some water, grabbed my cell phone and took advantage of the reception by calling my parents even though i had nothing exciting to say, and walked home with one of the players and NanaKwame. Collins had somehow disappeared during my phone call but i made a note to visit him the next day and thank him for coming.

"you really know how to play ballball, eiiiii!" my teammate said.

"thank you." i said "and you too, you are fast! like a cheetah!"

he thought that was funnier than it really was.

"you know, once the other team saw you were a threat, one of the men told his players to just cripple you. so they tried many times, but they couldn't. you are good. you are strong. i am surprised!"

"cripple me? isn't that a little harsh?"

"haha. no."

"so our team was the Muslims. what was the other teams name?" i had assumed they were the "Christians" but after hearing they wanted to take me out like that i didn't think that was very Jesus like, maybe a little Old Testamentish though. i should have donned a cross necklace, maybe some of them would have backed off but i had my muscles to protect me.

"i don't know their name." he said.

i looked over at NanaKwame, and he was strutting as usual. i decided to switch the subject and imitate his walk. he's confidant and wild and walks with a self-created bounce, i think for all the ladies.

apparently it works, because i always see new girls, usually in their mid-20's, claiming they just came over to get some water from our well. they bend and giggle and slap NanaKwame whenever he gets close to them. he, in return, lets out singular throaty chuckles and circles around them like a predator (pretending not to be) by simultaneously busying himself with things that don't need to be done.

i sit there and watch everything. if only they knew how much i record.

NanaKwame loved my impersonations, i could tell. he acted embarrassed, but i know he wanted more. so the entire way i bent my right leg dramatically, let it bounce up and swing around saying "yo, i'm NanaKwame. What's up?".

when we got home, i was physically tired, and needed to go to bed. that game of ballball was the first strenuous exercise i'd engaged in for months! the next day was Saturday and i was planning on doing nothing. i really needed to rest up for that. i laid down on my new bed, the floor, and fell fast asleep.

"Kessiewa?" NanaKwame poked his head by my window.

"Yes?"

"Kessiewa, good night!"

"Good night."