Hours before anyone showed up, long before any competition started, before the music started pumping, before the flags of various countries danced in the wind, before children’s voices carried down the township streets it one swelling wave of joy; there was an empty parking lot.

I could almost hear a faint, nostalgic, whisper say, “If you build it, they will come,” as we clutched hands to pray over the work before us.  Passers-by stared as three white faces swept the parking lot that would serve as our street soccer field.  Flecks of glass glistened catching the suns powerful rays and burst forth in a kaleidoscope of yellows, whites and greens as the rhythm of our brooms went “shush-shush, shush-shush.”  Once the “field” had been cleared of debris, we assembled the goals and strung the nets, all while a crowd of curious spectators grew in number.  Hammers went, “thunk, thunk,” and the MC tested the levels of the PA, “check one-two, one-two,” as a cacophony of joyful preparation filled the air.

And then the children came; like the animals filing on the ark, they came, but in groups of tens and twenties.  Boys from all three townships showed up, some with a serious competitor’s scowl, and others with buoyant smiles.  Right in the middle were the boys of Ithemba, brandishing their spirit of conquest proudly.  The excitement was electrifying and it took five minutes to get everyone quite so that we could pray, corporately asking for the Lords presence and dedicating our performance to Him.  Teams were divided, names were given, brackets were drawn, and with a surge of music, the competition was under way.

It was a day of fierce battle and a carefree celebration of LIFE.  It was a day of unity among the townships youth and a day to rise above circumstance.  It was a day to be alive, to be free to run, to be to be full of energy and vigor.  It was a day to be a child!  And it was a day… we’ll always remember.

Zach