"The Athletics Capital of Africa"

On the topic, again, of athletics – the greatest cross-cultural unifier known to man – I thought I’d note two notable and revealing experiences. First, last night I went to the pool with a white friend of mine to swim some lengths, and on our way there, the topic of race came up. Treading carefully, I asked my friend about the question I’d pondered in my last post – why does rugby remain a predominantly white sport, and soccer an almost entirely black sport? Entering the park in which the pool is located – as he was giving me a, “Well, that’s just the way it is” explanation – we came across a group of some 20 or so young men that were engaged in a game of pick-up soccer (it goes without saying that they were all black). Indicating that I was keen on joining the game, he somewhat reticently agreed, demonstrating a degree of reluctance or uncertainty. Upon entering the game however, with one of each of either side, such thoughts were quickly left behind.

While the players were initially somewhat surprised by our desire to participate – even warning, “This is not rugby, don’t hurt anyone!” – they welcomed us into their game, learned our names and passed us the ball frequently, even despite both of our greatly inferior skills. In fact, the level was so high that I resorted to the only face-saving mechanism that I employ when I find myself severely out of my league – avoid easy plays and only attempt very difficult maneuvers. This way, when I mess up I can retain some amount of dignity (when I haven’t played basketball for long periods of time, I always make my first shot a long-range three pointer. It makes my air ball considerably less conspicuous.). But as I was saying, even despite our terribleness we were warmly received, something that appeared to genuinely surprise my white friend. After about an hour, exhausted and overheated, I indicated to him that I’d be ready to hit the pool, but he signaled that he wanted to stay a little longer. When we finally left, he told me that he’d never had that much fun playing soccer, that throughout school he’d only played with other whites. We’re planning on going again tomorrow afternoon.

What does my friend’s transformation reveal? I think that its evidence that people are naturally inclined to fear and avoid the unknown, and if they think that resentment or hard feelings lie behind a certain door, they will simply leave it closed. Having grown up playing mostly rugby, my friend had passed that same pick-up soccer game countless times on his way to the pool, not once even considering attempting to join. Not knowing how they would react to him joining – and perhaps fearing that they’d discriminate against him – it had always been simpler to avoid the prospect entirely. This country seems to have an incredible capacity for reconciliation, however, and I can’t say that I’ve knowingly felt that I’ve been discriminated against at all while here in South Africa. Oftentimes, people will appear to be giving me unfriendly or malicious looks, but the moment I smile at them and whip out a relaxed “Sawu-boh-na” (Zulu for “How are you?” – sorry about the spelling butchery!), they immediately reciprocate and smile, uttering a pleasant “Shap-shap” (It’s well). Perhaps they too fear that I will greet them with unpleasant looks or bitterness, much as my friend had been unsure about how he’d be received in the soccer game.

Secondly, and on a slightly less pensive note, last night I played my first basketball game here in South Africa. I left the court not only impressed with the high-level and diversity of the players, but also inspired to perhaps engage in a future project. Basketball has remained relatively unpopular in Africa compared to soccer, and I can’t say I’ve seen more than a handful of courts in the past week. Last night, however, people of all ages, races, and economic backgrounds showed up to Durban High School to take part in a formal pick-up game. When I was in Soweto – aided by Cedric’s insightful comments – I couldn’t help but perceive the dearth of athletics among the youth – the one high school basketball court that I came across was deserted with broken backboards and one missing rim. In a community with such a dire need as Soweto, it struck me that the impact of a free youth basketball camp or workshop would be enormous. If I could get some funding together, along with perhaps another eager organizer, I could utilize someone like Cedric and set up a basketball not-for-profit. The kids I met in Soweto all seemed abound with energy and enthusiasm, and what better way to channel that momentum than with a sport like basketball, in conjunction with life skills or leadership courses.