Day 8 - Football on the beach

Saturday 16th April

Apologies to those who have persisted with reading my blog posts despite the fact that they are not separated into paragraphs. I have been separating them into paragraphs when I write, but for reason it's not feeding through. Blame the website!

I spent more time with Wurie this morning. We worked on the photocopying project that I mentioned earlier in the blog.

Then we walked down to the beach and played football.

It takes a good half an hour to get there, walking through dusty roads in the mid-day heat. It's also not great for making conversation with the people you're walking with, because for lots of the journey you're walking on dilapidated pavement with big holes in various places. Around you whizzes manic traffic including reckless motorcyclists weaving wildly between vehicles. And when you step on the rivulets of funny-coloured water that wind their way through the streets you had better not think about what's making contact with the underside of your shoe. But I didn't mind all that.

I like the experience of walking through the streets. I like seeing the rows of women sitting on the ground hawking staring fish, irregular tomatoes and withering green things. I like observing the signs on the streets, including the "Good-looking barbing shop" or the sign "No piss yar!" painted on the side of a wall. I like the common sight of two old men playing draughts, perched in front of a giant draughtsboard with a couple of peering people looking over their shoulders. And I've been in Africa enough that I'm no longer uncomfortable when children shout at me "Hello white man" - I even quite like their enthusiasm. I like the vibrant hustle and bustle of the environment.

When I got to the beach, I learned that all Sierra Leoneans seem to be great at football. Everyone from the geekiest of Educaid pupils to your average 6-year old has substantial skills. Football on the beach is a pleasure, with the cool sea air on your bare back and the white sand nestling between your toes. And there's nothing quite like the laughter when you try to tackle someone who's dribbling along and the tide comes up and nudges the ball out of their feet. At the end of the first half my team was winning 5-1. I then swapped sides and the gap narrowed but did not close.