Last week I played 90 minutes with Santiago Street Boys. I got to hear some interesting stories during the week. There were a lot of people who saw me play there, including someone from the hangar where I work. Even some of the gate guards from our estate saw me and told me there were more than a few people who said, “I am not leaving until I see the mzungu (european/white man) touch the ball.” When I told Will, one of the guys who works for me, “I stood out because I was the oldest guy there… oh and one more thing.” He replied, “You were also the tallest?” He has a great sense of humor.
This week I played again, but this time only played the first half. Only a few minutes into the match we earned a corner and in the ensuing play, there was a deflection that came right to me. Thankfully I kept my head and put it right in the upper corner. I have no idea how many wazungu (plural of mzungu) have scored at the field in Kibera, but I imagine it is a small group. I already had so many people looking at me, I did not feel like celebrating at the time. But I have told the story more than once.
I left the match at half with the score tied 1-1. Unfortunately we ended up losing 6-2. Ouch. It reminds me a bit of pick-up basketball, no one wants to play defense. Hopefully I will get to play again.