Closure & Continuation

“I got the job!,” Siya runs excitedly throughout the office hugging everyone along the way, jumping up and down.

For several weeks, Siya had been looking for jobs, forwarding me any postings he found online that looked remotely like something he was interested in doing.  “I wanna apply to this,” the e-mail would read with the link to some kind of job with a local NGO, some right up his alley, some not so much.  We worked on a good CV and wrote cover letters for the positions, highlighting his years of experience in the non-profit world working as a Programs Coordinator for Grassroot Soccer.  The rate of unemployment in South Africa is grim, but I was sure that Siya would get at least something that would help him sustain his family, being the primary breadwinner.

A week before the site closed, Siya got word of a job that he had gotten: as a driver for the Volkswagen factory, as PE is the largest car manufacturer in South Africa conveniently.  His job was to drive brand new cars from the factory to the dealerships.  It was nothing like the job he held for the past 6 years.  It offered him a fraction of the salary provided to him by GRS.  Yet he was ecstatic.  Something was better than nothing, and in the job landscape of South Africa, you take what you get.

As noted in a previous post, Grassroot Soccer is in a rough patch financially. As a response, two sites in South Africa, Kimberley and my own, Port Elizabeth, were slated to shut their doors at the end of March.  It was a fate we had been warned about, but something that I don’t think any of us suspected would actually happen.  Only until the end of March, as we went on a mad dash to clear out the office, did we realize that we had reached an end of an era.

Leading up to the close, colleagues throughout Grassroot Soccer and concerned folks from home kept offering their condolences because of “how hard it must be to deal with everything.”  Honestly, there was nothing particularly difficult about the situation.  It was sad, for sure, but I think the entire staff were level-headed people, and they each served as a rock in their own regard.  They approached the grim circumstances in stride.

In short, I wasn’t worried because nobody else seemed worried.  Take the coaches, for instance.  When we told them about the site closure, it seemed like none of them batted an eyelash.  They went about their day, causing a raucous as per usual.  I’m not sure if it’s a quirk in the South African mentality, but I don’t think most of my staff or coaches thought of the office closure with any urgency as it concerned them or their livelihoods.  This is a good thing because it allowed people to stay calm, but it is also worrisome to think that my entire staff was out of a job, and two dozen coaches no longer had their meager stipends to support themselves.  Perhaps it’s the way people come to terms with the sad reality that the majority of young adults in this country are jobless.

I, and I would like to believe that my colleagues, saw the site closure as an opportunity.  Most of Grassroot Soccer PE’s staff had been with GRS for years, and for almost all, it was the only work experience they’ve had.  Same goes for the coaches who I hope I have helped, at least a little bit, prepare for their future work experiences.  From the countless conversations about hopes and dreams, to dozens of new CVs and applications, I can only hope that I have enabled them to take the next step in their lives.

I will definitely miss my Port Elizabeth home, even if it was the last place I thought I would have ended up.  The people who were gracious enough to take me in were the reason I warmed up to the place.  It will hold so many memories.  From nights at the Boardwalk, awkward conversations with Nik, the super cute trainer at the gym, trivia nights at the Music Kitchen, windy walks on the beach, the newspaper boy who greeted us every morning.  From nights at Chingadas, potjies and the Mandela Bay Mansion and brunches at Vovo Telo or Como or the Friendly Stranger.  From getting lost in New Brighton, fighting with kids in Addo, trying to play soccer in Uitenhage.  All that and more will stay with me for a long time.  Port Elizabeth was my first home, and my true home, in South Africa.

To my staff: Siya; Ntombi; Mandisa; Nowie; VIP; Ngwenya; and Spoky and the rest of the coaches.  We became a weird, mismatched family, and my short time with you showed me why I came to South Africa in the first place.  I wanted to learn, and I wanted to be inspired.  I realized with you that I was in the right place doing what I should be doing with my life.  I owe all of my future success to what I’ve learned from you.

To my Americans: Kelly; Ashley; Casey; Sarah; and Rachel.  Even though you were only there for the first few months of my time in PE, having your friendly American faces there while navigating South Africa there was so comforting.  Thanks to you, I was able to enjoy PE for what it was, and the adventures we were able to have made the transition so darn fun.

And to my small South African family: Kyle; Lebo; and the rest of the Mbodlela Sisters.  You guys were awesome for befriending a duo of ragtag Americans and showing us a fun time.  You helped so much in understanding this country and gave me a true, authentic experience.  Your generosity will always stay with me.  Whenever you make it to America, I hope to show the same courtesy to you.  I hope PE continues to treat you well.

As for my new life in Cape Town, it’s been a few weeks now since the move, and it’s been quite a whirlwind.  Cape Town is a magnificent city, and I’m finding new treasures every block.  It’s a shame to be here for such a short amount of time, but I will make the best of it.  More on the transition coming soon.

One last thing I want to talk about is the feeling of closure.  It’s that time in the year that people are talking about leaving, and it’s daunting to think about my life back in America in a few months with no real idea where I’m headed.  But things always seem to come together, and things are always linked.

The first day I got to Cape Town, I was able to meet up with a Rochester student, Lauren, and Ada, a friend from Semester at Sea who was doing another voyage.  Being on the other side of the world, it almost seemed like I was living a different life separate from everything that has already happened.  This convergence of my “previous” life and the one I’m currently living threw me for a loop and made me realize something incredibly vital: closure does not exist because life is continuous.  You can believe all you want that you’ve left things behind, but for all you know, those things will catch up to you again one day.  At it will be a pleasant surprise when they do.

So I will end with this: I could be saying goodbye to PE now, but only the-powers-that-be know the next time I’ll be saying hello.

Derby Days

More often than not, when I tell people that I work for Grassroot Soccer, they ask me, “So do you play soccer?”

My answer is a confident, resounding “No.”  I don’t even how the sport works.  Everyone tells me it’s so easy: a team kicks a ball into the other team’s goal.  But there’s definitely much more to it than that.  What the hell is a yellow card?  Why are they doing a “corner kick” or a “throw in”?  What’s the deal with people exaggerating injuries?  Yes, the premise of the game is simple, but the game itself is not.  I have never watched a soccer game, at least any kind of professional match, and I sure as hell would not understand it if I ever did.

So imagine telling me that the one thing I absolutely had to do in South Africa was go to a Soweto Derby, a soccer match between two of South Africa’s most popular teams: the Kaizer Chiefs and the Orlando Pirates.  I likened it to baseball’s Subway Series, and being a New Yorker, that was enough reason to go.  And the whole working for a soccer organization thing, too, made me feel obligated.  Besides, it was a good excuse to visit Johannesburg, the interns living there, and the two GRS sites there: Soweto and Alexandra.

Johannesburg, South Africa’s largest city and Southern Africa’s major hub, is a booming city and developing global powerhouse.  Upon coming to South Africa, so many people have told me that I would love Johannesburg.  “It’s the New York of South Africa,” they would say, but I find it more comparable to Los Angeles in its vibe and layout, and if there’s anything more dreaded to a New Yorker than LA, I don’t know what it is.  Still, the 12+ bus ride up the country was worth it.

Though the point of the trip was the Derby, it was an added bonus to visit the GRS sites in Johannesburg, especially since my own site was about to close.  Both sites, Soweto and Alexandra, are unique from each other and drastically different from anything I’ve experienced in Port Elizabeth.

First, I went to Soweto where the GRS office is housed in the rear of the elaborate Nike Football Training Centre, a massive building and space that has a demanding presence within its humble surroundings.  The gargantuan structure is not only a beautifully designed piece of architecture, but it serves many purposes within the sporting community in Soweto.  The facility’s grounds are home to several full-sized soccer pitches that are often being used by many different groups, including the Kaizer Chiefs’ Development Team who were doing drills on the day I was there.

As like any office, there wasn’t too much happening; it was a typical Thursday, after all.  However, I was able to create a wall poster to track Soweto’s Coach Development sessions, which made me happy because my legacy would stay on the wall, even in a small way.  It meant even more to me because in the days leading up to the visit, I was dismantling all the crafts that I had made for the PE office.

The next day, I was able to attend a Coach Development session at the Alexandra site that has been operating out of the newly completed Football for Hope Centre for the past few months.  The brand-spankin’ new facility was spotless even though it has more than enough wear; the coaches would run to the turf pitch every break, and there were many programs run there.  Programs Coordinator Mookie was an interesting foil to Port Elizabeth’s Programs Coordinator Siya, but it was awesome seeing how the contrasting styles and attitudes are able to implement the same things.  The coaches, too, brought their own fun personalities to the table; they apparently like to dance and expected me to twerk for them upon my introduction.

The weekend was filled with lots of great food, awesome company from the interns, and even an attempted carjacking in the Central Business District, but the crown jewel experience of the weekend was amply hyped and highly awaited Soweto Derby.

From the get-go, I decided that I was a Chiefs fan, which I chose not for any reason of team skill, ability, or record – I liked the team’s colors better, and their motto, “Peace and Love” aligns better with my ideals.  Besides, “Amakhosi,” the local translation of the team’s name, sounds really awesome.  I had my allegiances, and because the game was held at Soccer City, the same stadium that hosted the World Cup Finals in 2010 and the Chiefs’ home stadium, I was in good company.

I couldn’t quite tell you what happened during the game, but I’m sure it was very exciting because it kept everyone at the edge of their seats. Since it was the last of the derbies (there were three this season), the crowd was packed like sardines, and a lot of emotions were flying about the stands.  In order to fit in more, since the audience was predominantly Black, I acquired a nice fan shirt and a sick Chiefs cowboy hat, though I don’t know how the latter item really fits into the whole soccer fan kit.  The display of team choice emblazoned on your chest gave people all reason to banter with you.  I could bet that I was one of a handful of Asians in attendance even though the occupancy of the stadium is the nearly 100,000.

Though I had no idea what was going on, I had fun rooting for my chosen team, and it helped that I had an awesome dance partner and fellow Chiefs fan sitting next to me.  I’d like to think that it was our furious singing and dancing that led to my team winning the game, 1-0.  I can proudly say I still don’t know a lick about soccer, but at least I had a lot of fun at my first soccer game.

At the Root of Grassroot Soccer

“I love being part of Grassroot,” a coach said to me as I was doing a qualitative data interview with her.

Her sentiment was not what interested me; I’m pretty sure it’s damn near impossible to find a coach who doesn’t feel that way.  What interested me more was that she simply called the organization “Grassroot” – not by the full name “Grassroot Soccer” or the accepted abbreviation “GRS.”  This is not the only time I’ve heard people refer to the organization simply as “Grassroot,” and more often than not, when in the communities where we work, the second part of our name seems to be hacked off and an s is tacked on when people talk about us.  “The guys in the yellow shirts are from Grassroots,” you would hear, or, “I love the work that Grassroots is doing.”

It’s important that when it comes down to name recognition, people are opting for the word “Grassroot” over “Soccer” when conjuring up our name.  They choose to call us by a word that I can bet most of them don’t understand and one that which I don’t think many who even work for GRS have thought about how the organization embodies, or does not embody, its meaning.

Thanks to GlobeMed and its globalhealthU curriculum (P.S. It works), I have developed a greater understanding and appreciation of grassroots health movements and believe that they are the most effective method of creating long-lasting, effective change.  I define grassroots movements as those in which the community members, the laymen, the ordinary folk, are the drivers of change.  They are ones that challenge traditional power structures with their “bottom-up” approach, and they are so effective because those demanding change are deeply invested since the issues at hand involve them directly.  I’d be happy to discuss this more over a cup of coffee, or as of recent, a rooibos cappuccino, so I don’t need to bore you too much about my philosophy on community development.

During his recent visit to Port Elizabeth, I was speaking with Grassroot Soccer South Africa’s Managing Director James Donald and brashly blurted, “We seem to put so much focus on the soccer part of our name but never the grassroot part.”

This discussion came about when I was making the joke that the Headquarters office in Cape Town seems like a “Little America,” much like many cities have their own Chinatowns and Little Italies (Italys?).  The team in Cape Town has a large proportion of American staff and interns, and they’re being controlled by the Global office in Vermont that’s chock full of other – you guessed it – Americans.  James is only one of the handful of South Africans at headquarters.

This was a question that has been on my mind recently but I hadn’t quite vocalized it until now.  We seem to shove soccer down people’s throats (refer to the previous blog post to read up on my feelings about that), but we seem to not care for the principle that gave us our namesake; well, the first part of it, at least.

“How grassroots are we really?,” I asked James, a rhetorical question that a part of me still wanted answered.

On the surface, Grassroot Soccer does not seem very grassroots at all.  It’s almost as if our founders, interestingly enough 3 Americans and a Zimbabwean, thought the name would fit without completely figuring out how the organization was supposed to reflect it.  Maybe our managing staff has subconsciously stuck as close to that 3-to-1 ratio as possible.  Nevertheless, from the high-level perspective, Grassroot Soccer is not grassroots at all.  If the work of Grassroot Soccer is being controlled from desktop computers in offices around the world by people who are separated from the communities being affected, what role does that that leave the coaches on the soccer pitch and the kids who they serve who live and work in South Africa’s most vulnerable communities?  If community workers are not becoming “drivers of change,” is Grassroot Soccer really a grassroots movement?

We can say a million times over how much we are empowering a new generation of leaders with our staff, coaches, and youth participants.  From this critical perspective, however, they seem more like pawns in a game being led by greater outside powers instead of true changemakers being molded into the people communities need in order to make a difference.

In order to grapple with this dilemma, I first want to take a step back to share an anecdote.  A few GRS staff members have approached me and my intern partner with the idea of starting a new NGO.  Obviously, I was wary, but I heard the idea out and helped them develop it further.  The NGO would be a youth development program delivered in schools that equips students with the knowledge about the contemporary struggles of young people in South Africa, trains youth to engage others in these vital conversations, and molds them to adults who can mobilize change in their communities.  Who knows how successful this will be, but it showed me that brains are working, and Grassroot Soccer has helped cultivate creative minds of people who are passionate about making a difference.  This is the grassroots movement.

The grassroots element of GRS doesn’t quite show in the organization’s management, but I realize that it does exist in our sites.  Not every single staff member, coach, and participant has been privy to the “GRS Juice,” as it is often called, but there are definitely some out there who are drunk on it.  Without the experiences given to them by Grassroot Soccer, they may not have realized their own potential to be drivers of change.  I’m not saying that each person has to create the next great organization that will change the lives of millions, but I realize that each time a coach works with a student, he or she is catalyzing a grassroots movement for community health.  By sharing his or her knowledge about HIV, that person is motivating another to change their behaviors and beliefs.

This grassroots element was exactly what brought me to South Africa to join the grassroot soccer team.  Partnership is another component in effective grassroots movements because it allows for exchange in knowledge and resources that a single entity may not have on its own.  That’s what I’ve seen as my purpose for being here, to forge cross-cultural partnerships, and it’s the reason why I’ve enjoyed being a Programs Intern at the site-level: to learn from the people who live day-in and day-out in the communities where we work who know firsthand the issues affecting their neighborhoods to provide whatever I can to aid in the process.  It’s their passion in the micro level that drives the organization as a whole, and it’s my role to contribute my knowledge, skills, and perspective that will allow them to realize their potential.

With this discussion of the importance of grassroots mobilization, it’s sad to know that I’ll be straying away from this true “grassroot” essence of the organization for the remainder of my time in South Africa.  In a rather sudden turn of events, both of the Port Elizabeth and Kimberley sites in South Africa will be closing at the end of March.  The reason behind this is primarily because of a lack of funding, and this is a tough lesson in NGO non-profit management: if funds don’t come in, you can’t keep doing your work, no matter how important it may be.  It’s just how the cookie crumbles.

I will be finishing off the rest of my four months in South Africa at Grassroot Soccer’s headquarters in Cape Town, and funny enough, I will be part of the Partnerships team.  I guess it’s a suitable role for the kid preaching about cross-cultural partnerships, right?  I look forward to this new opportunity in my internship, almost a 2-for-1 deal it seems.  I will be able to see and learn about different facets of the organization, get to work with new people, and explore a city that I love with great depth.  But that doesn’t take away from the bittersweet feeling I have about leaving my adoptive home in South Africa after 8 months.

Port Elizabeth, as much as it was not exactly a place I ever would have thought to end up, has been awesome to me.  It’s no New York City, but that allowed me to be more self-reflective in ways I never was before.  And more so than the place itself, I will miss my staff who have grown on me in many ways.  It’s hard to pack up and leave to the other side of the world, but having the Grassroot Soccer Port Elizabeth family as a wacky support system has helped the transition immensely.  Seeing the passion, dedication, and growth of my staff and coaches is what I came here for.  They’re what I’ll miss most because they exemplify the true essence of what this organization’s mission is: they are the real Grassroot Soccer.

In Search for One-Size-Fits-All Solutions

One of things I’ve done a lot recently is transcribe interviews and focus groups from some of Grassroot Soccer’s South African sites concerning the all-girls SKILLZ Street program.  Considering those recordings alongside some conversations and focus groups of my own, I began to think more critically about the role of soccer in Grassroot Soccer’s model.

Soccer is truly at the core of Grassroot Soccer: it’s in the name of the organization, after all.  Countless organizations out there are doing similar, stellar work in terms of youth development and HIV awareness.  Though there are many initiatives that differentiate us from the pack, using soccer is what makes our model most unique. The sport-for-development sphere that we occupy is our niche, and integrating the cultural infatuation with soccer and the need for sexual health education is what makes Grassroot Soccer novel.

In the past few months, there has been an organization-wide structural focus on impact over output, meaning that we want to ensure effectiveness of our programs amongst our participants instead of churning them out like butter.  In doing this, we wanted to bring soccer back to the forefront of our programs.  The power of soccer to educate young people was the impetus for starting the organization, so it should be our priority to keep it that way.

This begs me to question: is soccer truly effective at communicating our message?

A quick and dirty answer to this question is yes.  Grassroot Soccer is a leader in ongoing research on sport-for-development, and study after study shows that youth are gaining knowledge and confidence throughout our entire spectrum of specially-designed curricula.  I could also state the obvious that soccer is an effective hook for engaging young people. Youth in South Africa, and in much of the world, are in love with the game.  Soccer’s biggest championship isn’t called the World Cup for nothing.  If soccer weren’t an international powerhouse, our programming wouldn’t be thriving in communities across the globe thanks to implementing partners the Peace Corps, effectively bringing our curriculums to dozens of countries in 5 continents.  Soccer works.  But to what extent does soccer work?  This question came up frequently in many of the discussions I’ve had about our programs.

Many images of the developing world use this idea of soccer as a uniting force, as a tool for communication, as a universal language.  I don’t refute that capability at all.  In many of South Africa’s townships, you could see groups of kids kicking around a makeshift ball made of tied up plastic bags.  If that isn’t dedication to the sport, I don’t know what is.

I recently finished an inspiring book, Outcasts United, an account of female Iranian immigrant Luma Mufleh starting a refugee soccer club in the sleepy Southern resettlement town of Clarkston, Georgia.  Soccer became a way for her players, young newcomers from over a dozen countries, to cope with their traumas and aid in their process of assimilation.  The team bonded over their shared, but varied, histories.  It also gave them a sense of refuge, the thing they made the troublesome trek across the globe to obtain.

But this worked because those young boys, from countries like Somalia, Ethiopia, South Sudan, Iraq, Kosovo were all deeply passionate about soccer.  News flash: not everyone is crazy about soccer, even in countries and cultures where becoming a famous soccer star is the pinnacle of success.  We can acknowledge the high regard that soccer has for many, but we have to accept that soccer does not always reign supreme everywhere.

In a discussion about our all-girls curriculum, coaches suggested that there should be less of a focus on soccer.  This seems to be in direct opposition to what the organization wants to do.  However, the reasoning was sound: girls didn’t want to play it.

If you refer to my previous post, it’s important to remember that female soccer players are heavily stigmatized, and their participation in soccer is a blatant reversal of gender norms.  If a girl plays a sport in South Africa, it’s netball, a hybrid basketball-like game.   If she were to play soccer, there are often serious, potentially life-threatening repercussions.  Yes, our programs force young people to question and challenge gender norms, but this is a perfect example of where it’s hard to practice what you preach.

One of the biggest reasons girls didn’t want to play soccer wasn’t even some kind of grand societal reason.  Since SKILLZ Street happens after school, the girls are wearing their mandatory school uniforms that often consist of a matronly blazer, a crisp white dress shirt, a pair of clunky Mary Janes, and the cincher – a skirt.  This is definitely not the best sporting attire.

Many coaches themselves are not in the slightest bit interested in the sport.  In one discussion, a coach suggested, with the support of fellow co-workers, that the curriculum should be altered to include alternatives that would interest the girls more.  “Even a tea party,” she threw out, even though I’m sure nobody past the age of 5 really cares for tea parties.  The soccer aspect of the program often deterred students from attending sessions.  When someone working on the front-lines tells us to lessen our emphasis on the sport that provided our namesake, what does this feedback alert to us? 

It makes us weigh our priorities.  Which is better: delivering our program with less emphasis on soccer with the hopes of engaging a greater amount of youth or keeping our focus on the sport to be the vehicle for our messaging, but risk the possibility of lower attendance or decreased interest?

I’ve thought about this in reference to myself, as well.  I haven’t played soccer in my life, unless you count one time I subbed in a pick-up game at the Football for Hope Centre in Khayelitsha where I just ran up and down the pitch.  I have no interest in soccer, nor do I have any concept of how the sport works.  When I was the age of our target audience, 10 to 18, I was a thousand times more interested in music than I was in anything remotely sport or athletics related.  In middle school, I somehow worked the system and took choir instead of mandatory Physical Education.

If you told the young me that there was a singing program that also managed to teach about HIV, I would have been the first to sign up.  If you told me there was a soccer program that managed to teach about HIV, I would have tried to avoid it at all costs.  If I had to attend it, I may have learned a thing or two, but I would have dread going to it.  It wasn’t made for me.  Don’t even bring up the fact that I would have been sitting in a class discussing how boys should always respect a girl’s decision when it comes to sex and how boys should avoid getting girls pregnant when I knew very well when I was the same age as our participants that I didn’t like girls and wasn’t going to get any of them pregnant.  The default assumption of heterosexuality in Grassroot Soccer’s curriculum is yet another reason why it would not have been the most beneficial to me.

What this investigation has led me to conclude is the reinforced notion that no single approach works for everyone.  This is not only relevant to Grassroot Soccer but to all non-profits.  We have to come to terms with that fact.  There is no such thing as a one-size-fits-all solution.  We can’t go on thinking that we can change everybody, regardless of how much time and research goes into making our programs the most impactful.  What we can do is adapt: to identify those who would most benefit, and make a concerted effort to change those specific people’s lives.  I think that Grassroot Soccer has realized this and is making changes to their recruitment strategies and program implementation in order to make it happen.

I wholeheartedly believe that soccer can be a powerful tool in the fight against HIV, and we have evidence that has proven that many times over.  However, we need to be humble: count our wins and accept our losses.  Only in learning from our downfalls can we focus on our strengths and implement proper strategies in the places where we can truly make impact.  Our model can’t fit everywhere, so instead, we have to make our model fit where it can, and it’s in those spaces where we can and must succeed.