Hindsight allows me to view my work in Zimbabwe with VSO as a natural evolution, the story of which will come out in a blog to follow. The Youth Education through Sport Project needed a pilot phase in order to assess viability and sustainability and other such important 'development' things. This was a project designed to bring HIV/Aids education to kids who had found their way to a life on the streets. The myths regarding transmission and purification of the virus were simply astounding and the cause of deep alarm. The idea of YES, named in its pilot phase(s) as 'Youth Action in Sport' (a name later changed after warnings from a senior of mine in teh Ministry of placing the term Action and Youth together!), used sport as a medium of bringing kids together, creating a platform for educational learning. Nothing fancy at this point, at least not until we tweaked ideas based on our trip to teh MYSA project in Kenya.
The tournament was a rather grand affair. Mike, Maury, Sarah and I had been meeting with a group of kids we'd met at a weekly Bible study in Harare gardens. We played football on a strip of wasteland and eventually had a group of 'regulars' who would turn up for the game. What began as a recreational weekend activity would soon become central to my day job with the Ministry of Education, Sport and Culture.
This was from the start a groups effort. It was decided by concensus that no-one who was high or drunk could play on a Sunday afternoon. I suppose Mike and I were perceived to be the leaders of the group, probably because we owned the ball! For the upcoming tornament, a team was selected, again by consensus (based on consistency in weekend turnouts) and prepared to play against a team of VSo volunteers and a team from the British Council. It would be a three way affair whereby each team played each team, and the team not playing would ento into an educational discussion led by a Ministry expert on HIV/Aids. We played on a lovely green surface provided by a city school, and even managed to secure VSO sponsorship for a team kit and boots for the boys to wear. When we received the money the kids helped to pick the design, and helped to lug the kit to an office for safekeeping. It was hoped that we would play other games in the future, and that this kit would be the possession of the group and no one individual. Again, all agreed.
The day of the tournament arrived and we were all thrilled at the spectacle. The Secratary to the Minister of Education arrived to open the proceedings, as well as some other well to do folks, and we were off to a great start. VSO head office in Zimbabwe had begun to take an interest in the development of the project, driven in part by an director with expertise and commitment to the fight against HIV/Aids. VSO volunteers had gathered from all over Zimbabwe to participate, though despite our enthusiastic efforts we were well beaten by both the boys and the team from the British Council. The educational component also went down well, with much for us all to learn during the session.
When the games were over the day ended with a braii cookout, featuring fine cooked meat and juice as all gathered to celebrate a wonderful day. When it was all over and we had all had our fill, one of the boys asked if I could come over for a chat. I had been receiving pats on the back throughout the day telling me what a fine job I was doing, what a wonderful tornament this had been, and basically what a bloody marvellous chap I was. With an ego now brimming, I walked over to the boys, ready to be embarrassed as they hailed me as a true hero. But the jubilant cheers and the hugs didn't arrive. Instead, a spokesperson for the team told me that the boys wanted to keep their shirts, shorts, socks and boots for their personal possession. The group ethos had turned into a desire for individual gain. I went over the 'rules' we had all agreed upon prior to the game, that the kit would belong to no one individually, but for the squad to play future games. Eventually all but one of the kids, who had left earlier in the day and sold his boots at the market (and who can blame him!) gave back the kit, but the negatively tense mood indicated what marked a dramatic shift in my relationship with these boys. The keeper of the ball was now keeper of the kit, a fact which evidenced the growing distance between myself and the boys. My ego, which had earlier been seduced, was now torn in tatters. This celebratory day, hugely successful in so many ways, had also been a critical failure in significant ways.
For the following weeks none of the boys turned up to play football on the wasteland. Word had gone out that I must have made money on the back of the tournament - on the back of the kids. Perception is everything. Later we held a meeting in Harare gardens to discuss the tensions that remained in the air. It made no sense to the boys that I was a 'volunteer' in Zimbabwe (although I was 'earning' the equivalent salary as my counterpart Mr. Mangezi). Clearly soneone made money out of the project and it wasn't them! Although my relationship with the boys did in many ways heal, this only happened over time.
Lessons would be learned as the brainstorming continued for a viable project that could bring much needed educational opportunities to the growing number of kids arriving on the streets each day.
As for me, well my ego survived, no doubt ready to be seduced again.
