A Sunny Day on the Soccer Pitch

So, what exactly does teaching girls’ soccer in Benin look like? Well, to the untrained eye it may appear to be utter mayhem; girls flailing their limbs in attempt to connect with the ball; boys on the sidelines chasing after the wayward balls; the pitch surrounded by dozens of onlookers young and old, all giving a steady commentary on the quality of the practice and coaching techniques; and a single white girl at the centre of the chaos, using a whistle and her astonishingly loud voice to direct traffic.

My sports mornings start at 6:30am; after finishing my cup of coffee, I grab the hockey bag full of soccer balls and pylons, plus the duffel bag with first aid supplies and water, and finally my helmet and sunglasses, and race out the door. This morning I only had one hockey bag of equipment, which is fairly simple to balance over my shoulder on my scooter – it gets tricky with two bags and the 1x1M whiteboard! Unfortunately my scooter’s gas tank was nearly empty and the school is on the outskirts of town, so I decided to make a quick fill up at one of the many “gas ‘n’ go” stops along the way. I have never run out of gas on my scooter, but if I ever do, I don’t think I’ll have to walk far to find fuel because there are little “gas ‘n’ go” stands set up every couple hundred meters along even the most obscure routes. These entrepreneurs purchase the fuel in large barrels, and sell it by the liter, measured into many whisky and coke bottles. I normally fuel up at the pumps, to ensure the quality of fuel being poured into my bike, but on the rare occasion, it is simply more convenient to fill up at the local “gas ‘n’ go”.

Another 2 liters in my gas tank, and I’m on the road again, balancing my oversized bags and dodging the potholes, chickens, and goats along the way. I’m greeted/assaulted (depending on the tone) with the usual calls of “Yovo!” or “Baturi!” (white person) from the many kids and adults that I pass along the way, and every so often I’ll hear the familiar “Coach!” called out by one of the many kids who come out to Saturday soccer, and I try to wave back without endangering the balance of the load on my bike.

I arrive at the soccer field at 7am and park under the “coach’s tree” to wait for the other sports teacher to arrive. This morning I was to be assisting with a small co-ed class (10-15 students) from a nearby private school. The private school uses a section of the public school’s sports field, and earlier in the week I had taught a class of girls in the public school on the same soccer field, so several of the public school students recognized me and came over to greet as they were on their way to class. The sports teacher from the private school showed up shortly after I arrived, and we quickly reviewed the practice we had planned out together the day before.

It is good to make plans, but one must learn not to depend on any such wonderful plans…

I noticed more and more young spectators gathering around the tree as we were talking, and finally the sports teacher turned to the girls gathering and told them to go to class (they were from the public school). The girls replied that they had come for class, soccer class, just as their sports teacher had instructed them to. I asked them where their sports teacher was, because I had talked with him earlier in the week and we had both agreed that soccer would only be once a week with the public school, on Tuesday mornings, not Thursdays. Well, the public school sports teacher was at the stadium with the boys’ soccer team for a tournament, and I now had a dozen barefoot girls, dressed and ready to play soccer.

Change of plans, the private school kids can stay with their teacher, and I’m taking the public school sports class for the morning.

Thankfully I came with a half dozen balls and one set of practice pinnies, because as the girls finished their laps and gathered around me, I discovered that the “dozen girls” had somehow multiplied during the five laps, and I now had 60 girls!

Change is good, change is good, change is GOOD. I am flexible, adaptable and totally ready for anything, even if it involves tearing up my practice plan and tossing it aside.

After introducing myself and explaining why I am teaching soccer for girls, I start off with names to break the ice, tossing the ball to each girl to catch as she calls out her name. Unfortunately the soccer pitch is already occupied by the 10^th grade boys’ class, and they are playing a full soccer game since their sports teacher is absent, so we are relegated to the washed out sidelines. All of the girls are in 6^th grade, but there are some noticeable size and age differences, so I quickly line them up according the age and split the group into 10-13 years and 14-16 year olds. Quite an age range for one grade, but fairly typical as class attendance is low and the pass ratio is poor.

Form two circles with the groups, and demonstrate basic passing in each group; simple, right? It could be, but the area we are using is scattered with broken bits of bricks, dissected by several sandy stream beds, and the term “large circle” does not seem to translate very well for this group. I begin picking up the broken bricks and tossing them to the side, and suddenly the girls jump into action and within seconds the area is cleared of bricks, mango pits, plastic bags, and pebbles. Next, I trace a circle for each of the two groups, indicating precisely how large the circle should be and where they stand. Ok, now to introduce the ball and see if the circle maintains its form… It doesn’t help matters that we are constantly surrounding by a pressing and growing crowd of curious onlookers, mostly young boys who are enviously eying the bag of soccer balls by my feet that I am carefully guarding.

 

After demonstrating the basic passing technique to both groups, I have the girls split into smaller groups so they continue working with the balls. It is now 8am and the school yard is packed with students coming and going, the crowd of boys around our soccer practice has grown substantially, and I need to keep a steady eye on the six balls that are now flying here and there, to make sure that none of the balls suddenly disappear into some lucky kid’s backpack.

In the middle of training I had a surprise visit from the school director, so I quickly excused myself from the chaos and ran over to greet him. He asked me to come see him in his office after the class – brings back memories of my own high school days and the many times I was “invited” to the principal’s office, some things never change…

Ok, 8:30am and the 10^th grade boys have finally relinquished the field, so now to create teams with 60 girls who have never played a soccer game before! I was about to ask the girls to split into teams based on their birthday month, but then realized that might not be very effective because birthdays are not exactly marked or celebrated much, so I divided the girls according their first names and the alphabet (A-G; H-P; Q-Z) – that was more or less effective, except for the girls who weren’t too clear on the alphabet order... Also surprising to find out how many first names begin with the letter Z! Zouwératou, Zoubérnatou, Zouliatou, Zouléhatou, Zoubératou, Zénabou, Zoulfaou… the list goes on! Try calling out that roster, trust me, it’s tricky, and normally results in lots of giggles from the girls as I repeatedly mispronounce and mix up their names!

Most of the girls got to play during the next 45 minutes, only a few incidents with toes kicking shins, and we ended with the always popular shoot-out to break the tie game. Wrap up practice with a cool down lap and stretching, sign up the girls who intend to come next week, quick count to confirm all balls and jerseys are back in the bag, load up my scooter, and off I go!

Ah, 10am back at home for a shower and my long awaited second cup of coffee with breakfast. Next week I’ll be bringing reinforcements, enlisting the assistance of my senior soccer players as junior coaches!

(Sorry the photos are from prior events; no time to take photos when I'm the only coach on the field!!)

Football Féminin au Bénin!

Quick post to link you to the photos on my FB from the recent girls' soccer camp/tournament that we hosted here in Parakou, Bénin.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=188497&id=500044121&l=74b3699abf

http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/album.php?id=500044121&aid=188531

Hopefully more details to follow as time allows, still recovering from the activities and following up with sponsors and media coverage. All in all, event was a success, the purpose was to promote soccer for young women, to build relationships and network with existing female soccer teams, and to generate an interest for girls' sports in the local community.

Stay tuned for more!

Running in the New Year

Happy 2010! I hope you all rang in the New Year with friends & family around the globe.

I celebrated the New Year by participating in a track competition on Jan 2^nd, organized by the local track club. I have said this before, and I’ll say it again, I am not a track athlete. I enjoy jogging up and down forested paths along riversides, going on long wandering runs through the hills and mountains, I run to keep in shape for other team sports; but running for competition has never been my thing. Nevertheless, I am in a country where any form of exercise seems to qualify as a spectator-sport, and so my weekly jogging at the local stadium has earned me the label of an “aspiring track athlete”, or perhaps the label of “silly-white-girl-clearly-delusional-about-her-fitness-and-speed” would be more accurate.

The other people running around the track actually are athletes; members of the local or national track team, premier division soccer players, high school track stars, etc.

The various track coaches and veteran athletes are constantly giving me very helpful tips on my running style (or lack thereof), and I do appreciate it, but I always feel bad because I think they are hoping that my technique will actually improve and that I’ll become faster at some point. I know the truth; that I will never be able to run like a deer or a cheetah, and I’m ok with that.

Back to the January 2^nd track meet; while I do NOT aspire to become the first Canadian member of Benin’s National Track team, I do have many friends here in Parakou who already compete at an international level or are aspiring young athletes hoping to make the National team. Other than premier level men’s soccer, sports in northern Benin do not receive much support or publicity, and it is difficult to organize competitions because of the lack of local interest or support. As a coach of girls’ soccer here in Parakou, I sympathize with the track clubs, and I do my best to participate in and support any efforts to encourage local competition, whether it is in track events, volleyball, soccer, or even rugby. So when my friend, a retired track athlete, invited me to support and participate in this small track meet, I happily signed up, knowing that I would suffer a likely embarrassing defeat as I would be racing against adults and youth who actually TRAIN as runners, not to mention that most of the athletes here seem genetically predisposed to run with the speed and grace of gazelles (and often barefoot)!

I signed up for the women’s 3000 meter race, thinking that over a greater distance my lack of speed would be less obvious. As the race official called out the names of my fellow competitors, it became clear that I would not be able to escape a humiliating loss. There were only three of us participating in the race, and I recognized the other two girls as proper athletes who seem to run without ever breaking a sweat, or breathing for that matter. On the upside, I knew that I was shoe-in for the bronze medal...

3000 meters is not very far, it is 3 kilometers, less than two miles, only 7.5 laps of the track. However, as I tried to match the pace set by my fellow runners, it suddenly felt like an impossibly far distance, especially at 7:30am on a Saturday morning. I finished the race, a full 200 meters behind the other two girls, and while I was more than happy just to still be standing and breathing (or wheezing); I could see that my track coaches were less than impressed with my performance. My goal was to not let the other girls lap me, and in that much, I succeeded, so goal accomplished. J

(Note that I represented Niger in the race.)

Thankfully my race was the first event and then I got to enjoy the rest of the competition, acting as the official photographer.

The competition wrapped up with an official awards ceremony, complete with a podium for the top three runners from each event. I was pleasantly surprised to be awarded with the 3^rd place (bronze) prize, presented in a “Just Say YES” bag promoting a brand of cigarettes. Hm... I can't imagine that a similar campaign would be very popular in your typical sports events in North America. The prizes were very modest and simple (cookies, macaroni noodles, and OMO laundry soap), but they were presented by various local sports officials and celebrities (myself included), complete with official speeches of recognition and so on.

(I represented Calgary, Canada on the podium - and had to explain that no, it is not close to Quebec...)

I don’t expect to be qualifying for any National level track meets this year, but it was still fun to participate in the first track meet of the decade here in Parakou. I hope that this year will include many more photos and stories of similar sports tournaments and competitions, as we gain additional local support and interest. If I continue to choose my races carefully, maybe I'll even win a few more "medals" - trick is to compete in races with three or less participants... ;)