An African Christmas

This year, knowing I would be in an entirely new place for this major holiday, my preconceived notion of an African Christmas turned out to be entirely different (in a good way). Without family to laugh and eat with, a tree to sing around, cold weather and Christmas Ale to keep me inside, or my grandma’s Hungarian pastries to inhale in thirty seconds, this Christmas just would not be the same. However, with many new friends that were quickly becoming family, I was able to have an amazingly unique Christmas weekend.

So many of my thoughts of what my first African Christmas would be like, centered around, “how could I make my Christmas similar to the previous ones?” Without stressing myself out too much, I came to the conclusion that this is life and there will be many more Christmas’ celebrated in the States – take the opportunity to learn someone else’s traditions and capture the moments spent with these amazing (new) people.

The 24^th was spent traveling back from Jinja, a town two hours east of Kampala and THE source of the Nile River. When the guys and I finally unpacked our things and got settled, I ran up to the top of the hill to grab myself two chicken legs, which would become the staple of my Christmas Eve dinner feast. Being tired from our three day adventure to Jinja and back, watching a handful of episodes of Modern Family and going to bed early, quickly became the unanimous decision.

One the 25^th, similar to every morning, the local rooster clan woke me up at the crack of dawn. Not having a tree to walk down the stairs to was a bit of a wake up, but thanks to my wonderful caring family, I was able to open up a few gifts they had sent me earlier in the week. Following a quick breakfast and clean up, the guys and I were driven to our neighbors’ family village (about an hour outside of Kampala). The house was very nice and sat on a few acres of farmland, including a small farm with two thousand chickens and five cows. Before feasting on the traditional Ugandan food, we attended the longest (2.5 hours) and hottest (way beyond the point of discomfort) Christmas mass. Barely thinking we were going to ever make it out of there, the guys and I were relieved when the pastor finally processed out of the church. After returning to the family’s house, with plenty of tasty food and beer in my stomach, we enjoyed the company of the extended family around us. Making us feel as though we were a part of their family was more than we could possibly ask for, being away from home on this special day. Soon later, we made our way to the local football (soccer) pitch to be spectators in the men’s holiday championship match. Following some heated exchanges between the players and fans, and witnessing a chicken run through the middle of the match, the match ended 3-2. Because Travis (one of my roommates) had the privilege of refereeing the match, Nick (my other roommate) and I had the distinct honor of handing out the cow and goat to the winning and losing teams, respectively. Trying to fathom that animals had become the trophies, was too entertaining for me to realize that was a custom here in Uganda. Returning from the match, we were welcomed to some pork and cake, which tasted both extremely good and had me calling for seconds. Soon into nightfall, the guys and I were driven back to Kampala so we could contact home, and share with them our unique Christmas Day.

This past weekend, I was able to overcome the notion of losing a Christmas, and really able to grasp the idea this Christmas would just be different. Not trying to make sure I had a Christmas I would be familiar with was the best decision that was made because there was no pressure or stress. Embracing the Ugandan’s Christmas traditions and spending time with my new family was the best present one could receive this Christmas. 

An issue within the Ugandan football system

This past week was full of rain and long days at the pitch, for the kid’s training sessions and matches. Two weeks in, the lack of order and structure in the country’s football system is becoming ever more apparent. Whether it’s watching a match or playing in one, the referee always seems to show a clear-cut biased towards one team. Last Sunday, our men’s team (who I play keeper for) had a quarterfinal match in a local tournament. Throughout the match, the referee seemed to gear his calls in order to favor the opposing team. In one instance, Travis (a fellow SWB intern) was clearly fouled from behind by an opposing player, but the referee decided to award the free kick to the other team. With my team’s players in the face of the referee, trying to convince the referee he was incorrect, the referee stood his ground and saw no problem with his call. Standing in goal, watching everything unravel from afar, I knew the referee was going to be an issue throughout the game. For the remainder of the match, the referee clearly showed which side he was favoring, as all of his calls favored the opposing team.

The officiating is not the only problem to make up the corruption problem throughout the country’s football system. Near the end of the game, a substitution was made for our team, bringing on a young player from our U-17 team. The rules of this tournament, and every other tournament, prohibit a player to represent two separate teams. With this player knowing this before entering the game, he proceeded to run onto the pitch and finish the match. At the end of the match, there was a huge uproar between our captain and the organizer of the tournament. Our captain was not aware that this player had been playing for another team in the same tournament, which made him look even worse. Failing to adhere to all of his duties, he and SWB was publicly embarrassed.

Following the match, I asked our captain why the referee always shows a biased towards one team (usually against SWB men’s team). He explained to me that because the tournament hosts are Ugandan, and our team is made up of Congolese and Rwandan refugees, as well as Ugandans, we would always face an uphill battle with the officials. He continued to inform me that this would always be this way, because the Uganda nationals have manifested a social norm where the nationals have become superior above all refugees. This was very loathsome to me because looking at the socio economic status of nationals and refugees, not all refugees fall under the nationals in yearly incomes (or what income there is to earn in this torn peripheral nation). Breaking this issue down further, the biggest concern is amongst the nationals not accepting the refugees into their nation, for one reason or many. Not knowing these reasons, I am sure there isn’t a valid argument to defend the national’s disliking for the refugees (at least, on and around the pitch).

In the heat of the moment, one can stomp their feet and yell in the face of the referee, however the referee will not change his mind. Whether it’s the stubbornness of the referee to not change his call, or it is his strong liking for one of the teams, the Ugandan national football rules are out of order and corrupt. 

First week in the new arena

The first week in Uganda has definitely opened my eyes to what this part of the globe has to offer. First arriving, in the nighttime on 10/17, I was greeted with a warm welcome by my roommates (Nick and Travis) at the airport. The drive back from Entebbe to Kampala was spent taking in the sights and surroundings we sped past. Walking through the gates of the compound, where my house is, there was an immediate sense of security. There was no personal feeling of discomfort walking to the compound, but the security measures taken in particular areas around Kampala, clearly manifest the division of socio economic status throughout the city.

My initial days here, time was spent getting situated with my roommates and local coaches. I toured the pitch, where the kids in the program train and play, and rode a boda boda (motorcycle taxi) around the city, stopping at the grocery store and a flea market. Everyone I have met has been very welcoming and nice, including the little kids standing on the side of the road, who always say “Mzungu, bye bye!”

Over the weekend, my roommates and I went to a neighboring village called Ndejje, where we had our first training session with the kids there and attended their school term graduation. The training session was brief and only comprised of a small scrimmage; however, the graduation ceremony was worth watching. There were three or four levels of kids that came out one class at a time, performing native dances. As the older levels of kids came out to perform, the dances became more extravagant, even though the dances the p1&p2 (kindergarten & 1^st grade) kids performed undoubtedly drew the most “awws” and smiles from the crowd.

The previous four days’ highlights contained multiple training sessions per day, a formal introduction to the kids at the youth centre, a trip to a fish market, and a very American Thanksgiving dinner. The training sessions are roughly two hours – a five-minute warm-up and an hour fifty scrimmage. Contrasting to what American football (soccer) academies try to establish (a solid hour of drills and exercises, and about an hour long scrimmage), Ugandan’s believe they are not improving their football skills by participating in drills; they must be playing the entire time they’re on the pitch. My goal for the duration of my time here is to help manifest some of the American style of training, into the daily regimen for all of the teams.

My landlord, Charlie, took me to the market that was located on Lake Victoria. The experience was something totally new to me, as we went to one of the docks to pick out and negotiate the price for our Tilapia. Once the fish has been paid for, the vendor takes the fish to a tent to fry the entire fish. After a lengthy wait, the fish comes out on a large plate, eye balls still intact, served with sliced tomatoes and chips (fries). Using my hands, I ripped apart the fillets on both sides of the fish and attempted to eat the gills, but lost my appetite when I saw Charlie eating the eyes. That fish was definitely one of the best I have ever tasted, and can count on myself making monthly trips back to the market.

On the eve of Thanksgiving, the SWB U-14 girls played a match versus an American girls team made up of college-aged students studying abroad here. Following an easy defeat of the Americans, my roommates and I introduced ourselves to the Americans and quickly received an invite to their Thanksgiving feast. The feast took place in one of their professor’s apartment on the other side of town, the wealthiest part of town. There were about 15 students and plates of stuffing, chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, fruit salad, green beans, and bread. I was reluctant to ask where the cranberry sauce (a must at the table) was, but didn’t want to sound like the desperate American missing out on his family’s Thanksgiving back home. Everyone ate, drank, and said what they were thankful for a few hours, and then we all went out for the night at the closest bar.

My first week definitely was quite difficult to adjust to my new surroundings, but I now feel quite comfortable and very excited for what the rest of my time has in store.