Last Saturday I was involved in a wild, raucous, high-energy event: supporting the Kenyan Harambee Stars in a football match against Zimbabwe.
The weekend before I had gone to the city stadium to watch Kenya play against Guinea. I haven’t followed the Kenyan team’s performance before, but historically they haven’t excelled in the world scene of football. Recently, however, a new coach has joined, Francis Kimanzi. Apparently he has brought some change, as Kenya trounced Guinea, 2-0. I had arrived about an hour before the match was to begin, and managed to buy some of the last tickets, which put me with all the “hooligans” in the stands. Lots of bottle-throwing and general madness is precipitated from this area of the stands. When a goal was scored, I found cheering with one hand rather difficult, but the other was necessary to shield my head from a shower of foreign objects. Despite that, I caught the spirit and decided to show up again when Zimbabwe came to town.
Kenya is currently in a group of teams which include Namibia, Guinea and Zimbabwe. Results from these games count in the journey to the 2010 World Cup that will take place in South Africa.
Rumors spread that the expected turn-out for the Kenya-Zimbabwe game would be much higher than the previous game. Considering that the stadium was already packed to over capacity during the Guinea game (and that crowds broke down the stadium entrance gate halfway through the game, streaming in to fill any remaining space), I decided to be proactive in finding tickets well in advance.
Managing to purchase tickets the day before, I planned to meet several friends a few hours before the game at the stadium. These tickets were VIP, meaning they costed an equivalent of $5 instead of $1.50. It also meant that a limited amount of these tickets are sold so that one can also have room to breathe while sitting under a roofed section in case of inclement weather.
As I approached the stadium grounds, large crowds were already amassing outside the perimeter fence. Policemen were in full riot-gear at all the entrances. I found out that they were only allowing ticket-holders onto the grounds and they were not selling anymore tickets. Now these policemen really make me think of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I’ll let you see the similarity.
Here are the ninja turtles…
…and here are the riot police. What say you?
I happened to have the tickets for my friends, and they needed them in order to enter. It was tricky getting them their tickets. In one instance, as I was slipping a ticket to one of my friends between the bars of the gate, a dozen pair of hands were thrust through, trying to grab it. Several tried grabbing me to pull me against the fence, where they could have quickly rifled through my pockets. I chanced to be quicker that time.
As I waited for my last friend, the throngs began to surge more heavily at the gates. Beginning to use their shields and clubs, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles pushed the crowd back. Fist-sized rocks were then flung towards the police, at which point I swiftly decided to move to a different location.
Nyayo Stadium was packed. Music was blaring, flags and banners made the stands flutter. Someone in a full batman suit was doing gymnastics atop the scoreboard that doesn’t work. A man in a grass-skirt was involved in a 90-minute tribal dance that matched the intensity of the players on the pitch. Very interesting chants were being yelled by +30,000 people, such as “Mugabe must go! Mugabe must go!” This was obviously directed at the opposing team.
Raila Odinga, the Kenyan Prime Minister arrived to see the game, which significantly raised the volume of the cheering crowds. It also spawned more creativity in the stadium-wide chants: “Oliet, Odinga, Obama! Oliet, Odinga, Obama!” [Oliet is the star striker for the Harambee Stars.]
Very early in the game, Kenya scored the first goal. This drove the already frenzied fans into higher gear. Of course, there were also large crowds of people outside who did not manage to get in to watch the game. I’m sure the deafening screams from within served to give those crowds more “courage.” Soon they were heaving at the inner stadium gate. Once again, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles came running. One of them must have had an itchy finger. Tear gas was shot towards the gate. However, the wind was blowing back into the stadium. Soon white smoke was encroaching on the pitch, causing the coaches and sitting teammates to run down the sidelines while covering their faces. Soon the wind changed course, and the tear gas headed straight for us. Even while protecting my face with my sweatshirt, my throat still constricted and my eyes welled up with tears. Someone half-jokingly commented, “Odinga has breathed so much tear gas, this is just part of his day.”
Soon the gas cleared and we went back to our yelling and chanting.
With only minutes remaining in the game, the Kenyan goalkeeper was knocked to the ground after a corner kick. He had to be carried off the pitch on a stretcher. As all substitutions had been made, Kenya was left with 10 players to finish the game. Much to the crowd’s satisfaction, Oliet moved from his striker position, donned the goalkeeper’s jersey, and made a couple saves.
For the second week, Kenya won with a score of 2-0! They are now at the top of Group Two of the qualifiers, leading with six points and five goals.
I will definitely be going to support them when the next game comes to town…and when I happen to be here. Tonight I depart for England.
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This morning I was cleaning my coffee hand-grinder as I waited for my coffee to release its full potential in the french press. Suddenly, as if awakening from a sleepy stupor when one takes that first sip of caffeinated goodness, I realized that I have five different containers of coffee beans that are currently in use, and about two additional kilograms are sitting in my freezer to buffer the effects of the inevitable: when my coffee supply runs low. On the counter sat a dark-roasted blend of Tanzanian coffee that I had found on my last trip to Zanzibar. What I was actually brewing this morning were Sidamo beans that I came upon last week in Ethiopia. I couldn’t help but wonder, “Am I an addict?” Ha. I think the answer is “No,” though, I would avoid saying that emphatically. I simply enjoy a good cup of coffee, whole-heartedly.
