My Team

I decided to become a GRS intern within a period of two weeks, without ever adequately devoting enough consideration to the prospect. I had nothing else to do. I thought it was a good cause. It was more of “why not?” logic than a ravenous, must-have mentality. It’s so surreal to think that had my somewhat haphazard decision-making led me down a different path, I never would have met the 11 girls on my team. I never would have known they exist.

I guess this can be said of anyone, anywhere. But the fragments of my life, and theirs, that had to fall into place to result in our happy collision seem more unlikely than usual. In honor of this personally awe-inspiring serendipity, I’ve decided to immortalize my roster in the vast breadth of cyber space, or, my blog. I confess, I’m partially motivated by my desire to give my readership (humorous… “readership”…as if it expanded much beyond my parents) an idea of the names I attempt to pronounce on a regular basis. Thus, I present the exquisitely feisty females that make up team “Red Danger.”

Unacceptable Coach's Favoritism: Tshego and Kelebs

Tshegofatso Maarman: Shy, yet amazingly spunky and stylish in her own way. Defender. Eleven years old. Dreadlocks. Favorite.

Molebogeng Lefera: Bold. Confident, yet quietly so. Midfielder. Twelve years old. Fascinated by my hair.

Mpho Mbangi: Reserved, but so genuinely sweet she could give me diabetes. Midfielder. Twelve years old. Comes through during discussions like a champ.

Didimalang Moses: Attitude. Sassiest little lady I’ve ever seen. Loud. Striker. Thirteen years old. Tall and utterly beautiful. Alpha female.

Refilwe Jakkals: Extremely quiet. Always observing. Defender. Twelve years old. Soft, pink-brown, J-shaped scar reaching from her lower left lip up into her cheek. I don’t know what happened. Scars are commonplace here, but I want to hear her story.

Tumelo Motsamai: Independent. Speaks when she needs to. Striker. Thirteen years old. Tall, lanky, and dark.

Goitsemang Springbok: Affectionate. Fairly awkward. Any position she deems suitable at any given moment. Twelve years old.

Abigail Moawci: Vocal at the right time. Passionate. Striker. Thirteen years old. Great afro puff.

Kamogelo Motlagomang: Edgy and borderline arrogant. Latecomer. Ally of Didi. Striker. Thirteen years old. Good foot skills. Short and slight.

Becca Mosina: Smart. Soft-spoken yet powerful. Midfielder. Twelve years old. Extra junk in the trunk. AWOL, sadly.

Kelebogile Konstantina: Deceptively quiet. Attitude and flair all her own, once you pull her out of the shell. Defender. Twelve years old. Balls outrageous. Favorite number two.

Those are my ladies, as best as I can accurately and concisely depict them. Needless to say, nicknames have saved me.

Street Soccer: Girlz Only

During my earliest days as an intern I was charged with the exciting yet daunting task of creating and coordinating a soccer league for little ladies. As part of a new program GRS has dubbed “Skillz Street,” these leagues are intended to provide a fun, safe soccer experience, centered on the values of fair play. The leagues theoretically combine small-sided soccer, close relationships to GRS coaches, and fair play rules and discussions; they are designed to promote HIV/AIDS awareness, foster constructive discussion and communications skills, and help develop positive self-image and a sense of self-efficacy among the participants. Most importantly, the final stipulation: Girlz only.

The feminization of HIV is a staggering phenomenon. The proportion of women living with HIV has steadily increased, especially in sub-Saharan Africa; 76% of young people (aged 15-24) who are infected with HIV are women or girls. Not surprisingly, given such figures, girls and young women stand out as a particularly at-risk demographic group. Thus the focus on girls for Skillz Street.

After two chaotic and demanding weeks of preparation, a pilot league of Skillz Street was fast-tracked onto the Kimberley scene on November 3^rd. Much to my amazement, and relief, nearly every registered girl came to our opening day. Not as much to my amazement, two of our coaches backed out at the last minute (an unfortunate yet not entirely unexpected occurrence) and so Thuso and I stepped in as coaches. In any of the other GRS sites, I would definitely not be the go-to backup coach. But Kimberley faces a major coaching shortage, and with Thuso already subbing in, I—the washed up college athlete who hasn’t engaged in legitimate physical activity in months—was next off the bench. It’s not ideal, and it’s definitely not Skillz Street in theory, especially considering my Setswana repertoire is still painfully minimal. But for me, it’s been the most rewarding experience in Kimberley to date.

A typical day of Skillz Street begins with a Skillz Core intervention under the careful guidance of Thuso Jones. Extracting the GRS lingo, the girls come about an hour before match time to go through one of the eight HIV/AIDS educational sessions in the GRS curriculum. As the rest of the coaches filter into the Letsego school grounds, Kristin and I (primarily Kristin—she’s a godsend) set up the short-sided fields and attempt to assemble our consistently finicky pug goals. We generally acquire the assistance of gaggles of intrigued 10-year-old onlookers. Once the teams have congregated around their respective coaches, opposing teams decide upon the fair play rules for the match. Nearly every time they choose the same rules: No insults, both teams must celebrate every goal, and an opponent must help a player up if she falls.

Matches last 20 minutes. Soccer skillz fluctuate from a complete inability to make contact with the ball and the regular use of hands, to some genuinely impressive passing and dribbling talent. My team was undefeated for the first couple of games. We’ve since hit a rough patch.

After the match the teams reconvene to discuss how well they adhered to the fair play rules. We then move on to broader discussions about our “theme for the day.” Some of the themes we’ve covered include: the importance of personal choices, teamwork, communication, and peer and community pressure on girls. As I drafted the questions that guide these discussions, I was admittedly a little skeptical about the outcome. I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the “theme of the day” in practice. Once discussion is sparked, the girls have generally far exceeded my expectations. They are smart, usually sassy, and much more aware than I ever was at their age.

After spending two or three hours with my girls twice a week throughout the month, I’ll bid them farewell when the league ends on December 3^rd. Generally the role of an intern is played out on the sidelines—coordinating, supporting, basically executing any task that will make the real game more worthwhile, more influential, more lasting. My brief stint as a Skillz Street coach has afforded me the opportunity to step onto the field, and I can’t be more thankful.