As many of you know, I love sporting events. As those who really know me should know, top notch among sporting events are international sporting events. Since my arrival in the Gambia about 10 weeks ago, I have told every Gambian I’ve had the pleasure of meeting that they need to let me know whenever the Gambia is playing at home in a football match. And TODAY was that day.
One of my favorite Gambians informed me this morning that THE Gambia would be battling the southern African nation of Namibia today in some sort of African cup of nations qualifier. We bought tickets on the way home from the market, and set off at game time.
As soon as I arrived, it was exactly what I expected it to be. Old decrepit cars packed full of Africans, wearing their nation’s jerseys, scrambling to get tickets through rain and mud. Even a few arrived on donkey carts. We hopped out of our decrepit taxi, and entered the gates.
Africa is different from America in many ways, and the organization of its spectators during sporting events is one BIG difference. In America, if you have a ticket and you show it to the proper person, you are permitted to enter the stadium. In the Gambia, having a ticket means that you can enter through one gate. However, there are two gates to enter the actual stadium. And the second gate is where the madness goes down.
When we arrived at the second gate, we saw some pushing, saw some shoving, and saw some angry police men (with some military backup). Being the gutsy Peace Corps volunteers we are, we secured our belongings, and attempted to shove through the gates with the rest of them. However, our awareness of imminent danger set in when it got a little rougher, and we backed down a few stairs to get away. Soon after, there are dozens of frightened African men, leaping 6 steps at a time to flee from the policeman who is wielding a giant club. And he’s not half-heartedly shaking it around. He has a death glare on his face, and actually hit a few men who were too slow to escape in time.
So, at this point, we’re nervous about the prospects of actually viewing this game. Unbeknownst to us, unlike in America, where stadiums sell only the number of seats they have available, in the Gambia, as long as people are there with money, there’s a seat for them. So seats are filling up quickly, quickly. So we call our friend/Peace Corps employee on the inside, and ask him to come and help us navigate the chaos. He speaks a few words to one of his friends in high places, and gets us escorts through the angry mob of sports fans, and into the stadium.
Sounds great, right? Well, don’t forget these details. As five white women, in a group, our demographic makes up about .05% of the population of this game’s spectators. Meaning, any real Gambian fan who we just shoved past now knows who the toubabs were who got preferential treatment. I couldn’t help but think of how mad I would be if I was one of those fans who had to continue to fight for entry, when 5 white kids who had been in the country for two months, got to go before me. That said, I still took the free pass.
As we sat and waited for our other friends to be provided the same military escort, we watched how dysfunctional the system was. There was a large metal gate, with cops inside of it. The gate had two entry doors, which, when opened, would cause a mad rush. People would squeeze through until a cop arbitrarily decided things were getting too rowdy, and then he would threateningly raise his night stick, and attempt to stop the flow of fanaticism by closing the door. All the while this is going on, on the opposite side of the gate, people are just climbing up the balcony to get into the game. They just hop onto the railing, scootch up a little bit, and put their feet on the ground where they want to be. Then some cop has had enough of these antics and HE threateningly raises his nightstick. It was unorganized, unfair, terrifying to be a part of, and hilarious to watch.
When we finally entered the stadium, we learned some other differences between Gambian and American sports. While in America you would be bombarded with opportunities to blow money on snack foods and merchandise, the Gambians are not interested in such things. You get in, you sit down, and you cheer on your team. We immediately tried to do so, and found something interesting. Since they sold more tickets than they had seats for, and let more people in than they should have, people are standing up EVERYWHERE. We can barely get down the stairs to the remaining poor seats, in the rain, because people are sitting or standing on the staircase.
We also noticed a surprising lack of sound. We soon discovered that not only is there no food or merchandise, but there’s no electricity in the stadium. This means no jumbo tron, no loudspeaker, no scoreboard, not even a timer to help the audience know what’s going on. There were lights on the stadium, but we assumed they were run by either numerous generators when necessary, or they were just for show.
After the culture shock wore off, we enjoyed the game IMMENSELY. There’s a cheering section that was across the stadium from us, but I definitely want to be the first white kid to be allowed to have one of their custom made shirts, and learn all the cheers for the Gambian national team fan base. THE Gambia scored after like the first five minutes, and we leapt around with joy. THEN, like another 7 minutes later, we scored AGAIN! At this point, something strange occurred. I was jumping up and down with excitement, as those who know me know that I am prone to do during exciting sporting events, and strangely enough, one time I jumped up but did not come down. Turns out, a Gambian had caught me in mid jump, held me around my waist, and was holding me suspended above the ground. I had only a brief amount of time to flail my limbs with surprise, excitement, distress, and national pride, when he let me down. The Gambia scored three goals in the first half, and those weak Namibians scored ZERO. They got one cheap shot in at the end of the second half, but at that point, everyone knew it was over.
So, the game ends, with THE Gambia prevailing, 3-1. But the shock isn’t over yet. In America, when a game is over, you patiently wait your turn until you can exit the stadium in a quick and orderly fashion. In THE Gambia, you do what you want. That means people crawl over other people to get out, lift their friends over people to exit, or, my personal favorite, just leap down onto the field and enter through the gaps in the stadium walls. Hundreds of young Gambians went with option number three. In America, this would incite so much tear gas and inciting a riot indictments, no one in their right mind would think it was worth it. But in THE Gambia, no one seemed to mind or think it was strange. Keep an eye out for a facebook video of it… it’s insane.
After a hard fought victory in the Gambia, they celebrate quite a bit differently than in the US. People still cheer, gather their belongings, and leave the stadium. In America, these belongings usually include binoculars, cell phone, wallet, water bottle, and trash. In the Gambia, that is almost exclusively your prayer mat. Since you missed the 5:00 prayer during the game, and you have to uphold the pillars of Islam, you roll out your prayer mat as soon as you exit, face east, and you bow down to pray. As I exited, I thought there was some sort of football idolatry going on, with all the fans bowing to the stadium.
After that, it’s pretty much exactly like America. You find your car or donkey cart, you hitch a ride in a gele gele or a taxi, and you cheer on your team as you walk home.
No single game could have met all of my hopes and expectations for a football match more than this one. I only hope when I go to a European and South American soccer match, they can live up to the precedent set by the Gambian football squad.
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