Friendly game in Bonteheuwel

Project Playground has four different football classes - the under-11, under-13, under-15 and under-17/19. The teams consist of almost 90 players all together and we practice four times a week. Yesterday our oldest boys played a friendly in Bonteheuwel against a senior team with players way older than they. It was a tough game against a good opponent with a constant annoying wind blowing over a bumpy pitch. We lost 2-1 but played good football. The future is looking good.

Before the game in our new A.C.  Milan track-suits 

Smiling faces even though we lost

The Power of Football

When I came to Langa I was told that Project Playground had its own football team, and this made me very happy and excited. I stopped playing football in 2009 and I really missed it. When I then found out that the football team was in need of assistance, I became even happier, because I knew what this meant. It happened so many times before. Football is the ultimate chance to get to know new people. 

I started to play football when I was 7 years old, not really early, not really late. Some people are said to be born with the ball at their feet. I was not one of them. It’s hard to remember what kept me busy before that age, but it was apparently not football. I guess I was just busy being a kid. Free from anxiety and doubt about the future, happy to exist for the moment and live for the day.

My first real football memory is from the hectic summer of 1994. For most Swedes, this summer is something that is very precious and associated with joy and happiness. The Swedish football team flew to the United States of America without any bigger plans of success, unaware that they would become immortal heroes and holy icons for Swedish nostalgia. People were camping, grilling hot dogs, wearing funny hats and listening to the radio while Sweden played amazing football and won a bronze medal that in my tiny eyes shined like purest gold. I was blessed and blissful by the show. Not only by the graceful pirouettes of Tomas Brolin, and the long fingers of Kenneth Andersson, even though they were my biggest heroes. There was also something else there. Something that seemed to exist in another dimension and was bigger than words. Something sacred that not necessarily was painted in the Swedish colors of yellow and blue. What mesmerized me existed in every team that competed and sweated together in the World Cup that warm summer, and I felt how a holy force hit me all the way from Los Angeles, Dallas and Washington D.C. straight through my parents thick TV-screen and into my little body.

Two years later I felt it again. I was once again touched by the force, and this time it was so strong that I wanted to change my hairstyle, all because of the charismatic footballer Karel Poborský, that on his own almost managed to win the Euro 1996 for the Czech Republic. What a player! Two years later I felt it again, and this time it made me paint my face in red and white checkers, so I could show my devotion for the Croatian striker Davor Šuker that with his amazing skills managed to become the top scorer in the 1998 World Cup in France. In 2000 it hit me again and I refused to wear anything else but my Portuguese football shirt with Luis Figo's name on the back - no smell in the world could change my duty and obligation that I now owed him after his magical goal against England in the Euro 2000. After that it happened again. And again and again. It never stopped. Last time it happened was this week when Sweden played against England in Stockholm and Zlatan Ibrahimovic scored four goals, and even though it was a friendly the goals meant so much for Sweden - both on and off the pitch. 

Football is more than a sport. It possesses a power that can build bridges between different cultures and language barriers. It consists of a force, strong enough to unite the poor with the rich, the friend with the enemy and the stranger with the local. This force exists in every football team on the planet - in F.C. Barcelona, ​​in Kaizer Chiefs and in IFK Arvidsjaur. It unites people from all around the world, everywhere in the world, of all ages, classes, genders and nationalities, on the stadium, in the changing room, in the pub, on the street and in front of TV. 

My work together together with the Project Playground football team has only started, but I can already feel that something magical is about to happen. Something from another dimension. Something sacred.

Heroes

Attention! It's the Tuesday after the first Monday in November...

Every four years something very important happens on this day. It's election day, and I'm extremely excited finding out if Barack Obama is getting a second term as President, or if the American population decides for Mitt Romney. In order to highlight this huge political happening, that has an impact on people living in Ohio, South Dakota, Cape Town and Stockholm, I decided to give a small lecture about U.S. politics to the Project Playground debate class. I told them a bit about the American history; how they also were colonized by the British, how Lincoln abolished slavery and about the American dream. After that I tried to explain how the U.S. electoral system is structured without making things too complicated, however I realized quick that this was close to impossible and that it get's tricky no matter how much I twisted and turned. Anyways, here we go; 50 states, 1 President, 100 Senators, 435 Representatives and 538 electoral votes!

The children listened carefully and asked interesting questions, and this was a great feeling for someone that never gave a lecture to a class before. It also made me realize how precious, important and skilled the teaching occupation is, and that we (at least in Sweden) don't pay enough attention and gratitude towards our teachers. It can be so hard to make an impression, and children can be so hard to charm sometimes! Luckily, the children of Langa are the most charming in the world, and I felt respected all the time. No cell phones rang, no one fell asleep and no one started to talk when I was speaking.

After one hour of republicans and democrats I packed my American map together and finished class. I asked about their opinion regarding South African politics, about what was good and what was bad. This is such a political country, and most people have an opinion or at least a clue about the contemporary situation. This class was surely not an exception. All of a sudden ten mouths spoke at the same time, first calm and slow, and the faster and faster and faster, until a huge debate with passionate opinions about ANC and South Africa's future broke loose turning our little classroom into a parliament. Some of the participants truly know how to argue, and I was very impressed, even though some moments brought us closer to the Polish parliament (I hope that's a universal saying).

Politics are so much fun and I promised to return to class soon with a similar lecture about Sweden.
Time to make another coffee. I don't want to miss when history is written!

Monday Morning, Praise the Dawning

We’re back in Langa after a funny and relaxing weekend in Noordhoek, a thirty minutes scenic drive away from Cape Town CBD. As a reward for hard and good work the whole staff was invited to spend one night together at the splendid Noordhoek Hotel, and we had a great time together in the sun. It was very nice, but also a bit unusual, to spend time with everybody outside our base in Langa, where each person has its own secure territory and routines to follow. In Noordhoek, we were all free to do whatever we wanted, and we were not tied together by work. So, we chilled and we ate, and this brought us even closer than we were before.

The morning after the loud rooster forced me up way too early, and I was lying in bed unable to sleep for a long time hoping that they would serve chicken at breakfast. They didn’t however, but that didn't mean that meat lovers were left disappointed. Not at all. I was served the strangest sandwich ever; ciabatta bread with two layers of thick bacon topped with pork meatballs, two fried eggs and a brown warm sauce. What a light and fresh start of the morning! After that we checked out and walked to the grass fields were we played some funny games in the picturesque nature. 

it's bloody serious.....

Anniversary!

Last night was a night full of emotions and joy. Last night was a night full of laughter and tears. 

Last night was our two years anniversary, and it was a very important night for Project Playground. 

For me – who only spend a week at PPG – it was a moment to realize and understand that this successful project that only ran for two years still has a very long and broad history filled with ups and downs. There are so many persons behind this organization that I never heard of or met before and so much work behind every single part of this organization that I wasn’t aware of. Yesterday’s celebrations were therefore the perfect opportunity for me to catch up, ask questions and just sit back and enjoy an amazing party!

Roro, Xoliswa and Malunga

Nicky and the boys

Manini and Sofia

The whole staff looked completely stunning. The girls had fantastic hair and dresses, and the guys showed up in smooth and elegant suits and tuxedos. I felt kind of underdressed in my black worn-out shirt and basic school shoes, but stopped to worry when John (the chef of the evening) started to serve the first rounds of lamb and chicken. He left no one disappointed and I was stuffed to my ears.

During the evening the drama class performed a great piece of modern theatre that was followed with a beautiful xhosa dance show. These kids really know what they’re doing, and they left the crowd overwhelmed. In the end of the night my hands were bleeding, and I had a light cramp in my jaw from smiling. The love and devotion that exist within Project Playground is beyond what I could ever imagine and I am very happy and proud to be part of it.  

Things are looking good

We have Swedish opticians here at Project Playground, and they’re really making an amazing contribution to Langa! Things are definitely going to look different when Helena, Johan, Gio and Emma from Optiker Branning in Lund are done with their work here. This lovely crew is offering all the kids free eye examinations, and thereafter free glasses to the ones with bad eyes, and apparently there are quite a lot of them! All of them have worked so hard the last week and I’m very honoured to have witnessed some of the wonders they managed to pull through. And I’m not exaggerating. We are absolutely talking about wonders here!

The children are waiting for their turn

The most impressive story is about a 20 year old boy who was put in special classes in school due to illiteracy. Everyone thought it was something with his intelligence. That he was unable to read because he was dyslectic or lacked competence. However, it also turned out that he more or less was unable to see his own finger, which is a very bad base if you want to read a book, or play football, or just get any chance to get somewhere and become something in this world. And then, in some seconds, everything changed completely; Helena examined his eyes, confirmed his defect and placed the right glasses in - and all of a sudden this boy was able to read the some of the small letters on the board! He wasn’t stupid or dyslectic at all – he just had bad eyes. Incredible. Absolutely incredible. I will always keep this story close to my heart. 

Welcome to my blog!

Hello, my name is Johan Mellström and I am 24 year old Swedish student being here, in Langa, to do a four month long internship at Project Playground. This internship will be part of my Masters Degree in Political Science and Development Studies at Uppsala University, from where I already have a Bachelors Degree. During this whole stay I’m going to run this blog where I will tell about my daily experiences in Langa and at Project Playground. But first, I would like to tell about my way down to Cape Town that was everything else than straight.

One of my biggest passions in life is to travel and get introduced to new people and cultures, and therefore I decided to turn my way to Cape Town into a real adventure. Instead of flying into Cape Town like most people do, I flew into Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, approximately 7000 km away from Langa. This big and polluted town which mostly serves as a hub for people going to either Zanzibar or to Arusha didn’t win my heart and I quickly decided to travel south across the country until arriving at the Malawian border where I entered the country they call “Africa’s heart”.

Malawi is a fascinating place filled with beautiful nature, lovely people, traditional culture and bad minibuses. Every single trip – no matter distance – can take more than a day to travel. Most buses don’t run after dark, which in Malawi means six o clock, and what at first glance on a map looks like hundred comfortable kilometres, can in fact put you on the side of the road in the end of the evening. Flexibility is essential. I stayed one week at Nkhata Bay, right by the Lake Malawi, which is the most beautiful and picturesque lake, I ever seen in my life. I couldn’t stop looking, and I didn’t want to leave. However, I had already decided that I wanted to climb Malawi’s highest mountain, Mount Mulanje, and therefore I had to say goodbye against my will. I threw a stone in the water and prayed to return one sunny day in the future.

The stunning beauty of Lake Malawi

Mount Mulanje, also nicked “the island in sky”, measures 3002 meter above sea level and in order to climb it I was in need of some warm clothes. I went to the flea market in Blantyre (where they ironically mostly sold old Swedish sport shirts) and found a purple ski jacket with gold details from the 90´s. Classy. I was ready and took a minibus to the small village by the foot of the mountain where I had to find myself a guide that could show me the way to the summit since climbing it alone is forbidden. The expedition took two days and was tougher than I had expected, and afterwards I needed one day in order to recover and gain strength for my next mission - a 18-hour bus ride from to Vilkankulos, Mozambique.

Mozambique’s modern history is very different from the one of Malawi – a country often referred as pacifistic. Mozambique that is a former Portuguese colony didn’t receive independence until 1975, and shortly after this the country fell into a destructive civil war that lasted until 1992. Even a backpacking tourist like me could feel that the wounds from this weren’t yet healed, and that Mozambique still is a very divided country. In some moments I felt like being trapped in a police state. As a tourist you always have to carry around your passport, and the underpaid policemen are more than happy to double-check that the required visa still is valid - especially in the capital city of Maputo where bribes has to be counted into the daily travel budget. This is extremely frustrating and something that harms Mozambique’s tourism a great deal. 

The country’s biggest tourist attractions are its sandy beaches and turquoise water that are filled with humpback whales, giant rays and whale sharks. I spend some beautiful days along the coastline and enjoyed all the delicious seafood that the local fishermen sell for a reasonable amount of meticais. Unfortunately is my Portuguese vocabulary limited to “bom dia” (good day) and “obrigado” (thank you) and I noticed in an early stage how much connection I lost towards the local community when I no longer could communicate with the locals. On top, only a tiny percentage of the people understand any English, and this made the language barrier so thick that body language sometimes was the only way to order a meal on a restaurant. This is both charming and exhausting. After two weeks I decided to continue my trip and crossed the boarder into the Kingdom of Swaziland, the smallest country in the region of Southern Africa.

Swaziland is the last absolute monarchy in the world and King Mswati III is taking all the political decisions in the country. Travelling around here is easy since the Swazi roads are of good quality and distances always are short. I stayed no longer than two nights but experienced some amazing wildlife and got the chance to see elephants, rhinos, giraffes and ONE deeply sleeping lion. Way to go, king of the jungle! I also visited Lobamba, the country’s traditional and legislative capital, where I went to the national museum and learned about the Swazi traditions.

One of Swaziland's many elephants 

The day after it was raining and I went to the minibus station at eight o clock in the morning and found a half full bus going to Durban. At this stage I was aware of the fill-up system that dominates public transportation and rules out any kind of time schedule, and in Malawi and Mozambique I was sometimes unlucky enough to sit up to one hour waiting for the driver to start the engine. This time was however different. Hour after hour passed and people had breakfast (fried chicken with fries) and lunch (fried chicken with fries). The rain stopped, and started again. Still the bus didn’t move a single centimetre and no one, no one except me, seemed to care about getting to Durban before the end of the month. At eleven o clock there was just one seat free in the bus and I started to feel hope. One more. Common. How could people be so utterly relaxed and regardless when we were so close? I had no idea. Some guys went out to buy some more food for the trip (fried chicken with fries) and came back again. Had time stopped for real? Never in my life had I felt that bored. And then, at half past one - after five and half hours in the bus - the driver decided to ash his cigarette, put his cap on and crawl into the bus. I felt euphoria. I felt both excitement and relief. I felt like celebrating with a high-five or some kind of funky dance move, but no one else was in. I didn’t care, because I was on my way to South Africa.

I arrived late at the central station without any money and the guy sitting next to me in the bus told me to absolutely not walk around in downtown at that hour. I told him that I needed an ATM but he said that even that was a bad idea. He searched in his pocket and found fifty rand that he handed over saying; “if I ever get to your country, if that ever happens, then I expect to be treated in the same way.” I nodded my head and felt like giving him a big hug. He said it was fine and walked in the other direction. I grabbed a taxi and jumped in. My eyes were glowing of amazement – what a fantastic thing to do!

I stayed one night in Durban and didn’t have time to see much of the city. I wanted to go to Coffee Bay, a small fishing village in Eastern Cape, and the morning after I was back on the road on a SA Roadlink bus to Mthatha. At this time I was reading  “long walk to freedom” and I felt privileged of having the scenery of Nelson Mandela’s childhood around me when doing so. Green hills and colourful rondavelas; the beauty of Madiba´s homeland wasn’t exaggerated. It was magical.

I had four magnificent days in Coffee Bay and got introduced to the Xhosa culture for the first time in my life. I was invited to visit the home of Samkelo, a man that sometimes worked at the hostel, and he showed me around in his village and told me about his family’s rituals and traditions. He told me that he once worked in the mining industry close to Johannesburg but that he now decided to return and live the same life as his father did before him. He was now without both water and electricity but close to family and nature. I asked about his opinion regarding the mining strikes but he said he didn’t care. Politics wasn’t for him he said, even less now than before.

Samkelos wife was happy that he decided to come back to Coffee Bay

I left Coffee Bay and continued down the coast towards the famous Garden Route. Here, the nature was even more stunning and dramatic with a landscape somewhere in between Twin Peaks and Lord of the Rings, a terrible idea for a movie, but a beautiful mixture of nature. I stayed some days in Storms River and one night in Knysna before I jumped on the night bus to Cape Town. The Mother City was calling on me and I couldn’t resist her anymore.