Ka ballonton lage

Over the last month Mali has been engulfed in all things soccer. Every boutique or shop is watching it and if they're not watching it, they're talking about it. Cell phones across the country are loaded up with the Wavin' Flag theme song by K'Naan and there is no hesitation to play it (over and over and over again!) on public transport. And now, with the third place game tonight and the big final tomorrow everywhere is planning for big festivities, even if no African teams are playing. The Ghana loss to Uruguay last week knocked the wind out of my friends here, but football is football and as long as its on, people will watch it. To be completely honest, I was kinda glad Ghana lost. I have nothing against the country and I had a wonderful vacation there when I went down, but I was still a bit bitter about the US loss. Now, I know as a Peace Corps volunteer I should be proud and supportive of my host country, or in this case, host continent, but the atmosphere of that night, the crowded bar with far too many drunk Ghanaians/Malians and the "edge-of-your-seat-I-can't-believe-the-US-is-good" feelings instilled a bit of nationalism only seen in ice hockey games. I ended up leaving the bar after the final Ghana goal, opting to not watch the final 15 minutes and to walk back to the house. It was a self preservation thing. As I was walking back, I began to think over all the other games, all the other teams and all the other places I've watched games.

The tournament began in early June, right after I left my site to go into Bamako for our COS (Close of Service) conference, where we discussed what comes next and what just finished. It was a really good time and the last (for a while, at least) before I see a lot of my group. We all leave here in a staggered formation, with some having already gone and each week a couple more leaving, until you're only left with the handful of people who opted to stay for a third year. With this backdrop, the World Cup started like a final hurrah to our two years of service. It's exciting that its in Africa and it's exciting that the US team was in it, and for once really good (sorry Alexei Lalas) and its exciting that there were some African teams that (seemingly) had a chance. In the beginning I was really excited to see some of the African teams play, after having watched them in this year's African Cup of Nations, but honestly wasn't surprised when they'd didn't advance much further than the first round. Africa has some good players, Didier Drogba, Michael Essien and Samuel Eto'o to name the obvious, but they don't necessarily have good squads. Like Germany (rest in peace), who have stars all over the pitch or the Netherlands who've got a balance of age and youth needed to make it to the finals (and hopefully win). It was a good showing, but just like some of the issues I've faced over the last couple years, Africa is a bit behind.

And just as each team varies from the next, so too did the locations where I watched them:

One match I watched was inside a grass shanty, with dirt floors and the sound of a generator buzzing in the background. Many took place at corner shops, with the entire neighborhood gathered around a fading old color television and people constantly yelling for others to shut up. A handful were observed at the PC house in the capital on a new flat screen television with A/C and burgers. Others took place over the radio, in both French and English thanks to the BBC. Still others took place in bars across the country, including that fateful US/Ghana game. I watched several games at the local four star Radisson, where we convinced the owner to give us a deal on our drinks. (Those matches were by far the most comfortable to be at!)

I watched games on both the local television channel, ORTM, that has aired every match they could from a French station, AUB, as well as on actual French television and was very fortunate to watch the Netherlands/Brazil match on Armed Forces Network (AFN) in English at an ex-pats house. I took a three day hike and heard about several games from people as we stopped in their villages to rest. One match I remember took place as I walked throughout town, stopping every couple of shops down just to catch another minute or so before heading off. While watching I'd scope out the nearest television set just so that I wouldn't miss too much. When I think back, it wasn't that that match was all that important more so that it was a welcome distraction-turned-addiction. And that's the wonderful thing about soccer/football/ballonton, it's provided a wonderful distraction from the monotony of life here or the rains or whatever was going on that day.

As I sit here writing, I have five weeks and 6 days left until I leave country and in that time I have to pack up and say goodbye to the last two years and prepare for what going home means. During the days I think about leaving and taking care of forms and paperwork needed to close out my service. (I work for the US government, so of course there are lots of papers to fill out!) But every night there has been a game and with the starting kick-off all the concerns and worries of the day subsist. I'm gonna miss Mali, most certainly, but for right now there is soccer to watch. Come Monday, I'll start thinking for real about what going home means. Until then: UP NETHERLANDS!

(I'm off to village tomorrow afternoon before the match starts, and will hopefully be able to watch it with everyone in Konofaye. Then that'd be one more location to add to my exhaustive list. With oranges and tea and all the friend's I've made since coming here. A fitting end.)