The van cruises over the green and brown hills of KwaZulu Natal as the thick, grey clouds begin to release their contents down onto the thirsty land. I am driving Irvan, one of the Grassroot Soccer/Mpilonhle coaches, back to his home near Nomathiya, a rural secondary school about 40 km away from the center of Mtubatuba. On normal school days, it’s 2 hour round trip walk to Nomathiya from his home. With the summer heat pushing in, I wince at the thought. But he assures me that he loves trip, especially since it fits in nicely to his martial arts training regimen. Today Irvan just finished teaching the first practice of the GRS Skillz curriculum to the very first session of kids at the Mtuba Christian Academy, or MCA for short. MCA stands apart from the other 12 schools we work with (one of which is Nomathiya) in that it has a wealthier student population and is, as you might’ve guessed, non-secular.
Last week Thokozani, Khetiweh, and I approached MCA’s principal with hopes of running a pilot session before the long holiday break in December. Following a successful meeting, we picked a couple of our existing coaches from other schools to start the program with roughly 40 12-15 year olds today. Unlike our partner schools, where Zulu is the language of choice, the academy requires students to speak English in all of their classes. We selected Irvan and another coach named Samukelisiwe, since they are two of our most fluent English speakers. Both did well given the new environment, which included the pressure of having to speak their second language throughout and trying to engage a relatively reserved group of kids.
[Back to the future: the session after this ended up running a bit more smoothly. However, we did have one 12 year-old ask:
- Could we stop using that word?
- What word?
- Sex. Lets use masturbation instead because in means the same thing.
Can’t make this stuff up.]
Irvan tells me he loves being a Grassroot Soccer coach not only because he gets to “heal” others but because it also helps him “heal” himself. He knows his audience, but I can tell he’s sincere and ask him to elaborate. He shares the same story with me that he usually shares with his students during one of the GRS practices in which coaches give an example of how they have been personally affected by AIDS.
With a few months left in secondary school, things were looking up for Irvan. He earned good grades and planned on apprenticing for his brother, who made good money as a plumber in Durban. His brother had set aside some money that, coupled with Irvan’s future earnings from plumbing, could eventually help the 12th grader attend university, a rare opportunity for someone from his village. But the brother started getting the flu [HIV/AIDS is not often referred to by name here; stigma remains a huge issue]. It turned out he was HIV positive and his immune system deteriorated quickly. Right after Irvan graduated, his brother’s girlfriend from Durban called the family and asked them to visit the hospital. Upon arrival, Irvan found his brother in a hospital bed barely able to communicate. The next day he passed away.
The family grieved the loss of the brother. Unfortunately, he had been the major breadwinner, which put a tremendous strain on the family to find other sources of income. When they went to the home affairs department to collect his savings, they found that he had a wife who they did not know about. The wife took the money and ran, evading the family in the process. Irvan saw his bright future quickly dim as his college funds were squandered. He was left with few employment opportunities and an intense anger that he didn’t talk about with anyone.
Irvan joined Grassroot Soccer after being highlighted as a potential coach by his school, who saw his strong academics and status as a role model in his secondary school. GRS has proved a critical outlet in that it allows him to teach kids about the HIV/AIDS and heal through sharing his experiences. Now he enjoys talking about what happened and his outlook is as upbeat as ever.
We finally arrive at the rondo where Irvan, his mom, and several other siblings and half-siblings live [family circles are rarely sharply delineated]. Its a small round structure painted bright green with a thatched roof. He hoists the sack of maize meal that he picked up in town over his shoulder, gives a thumbs-up, and cracks that wide smile which is always so quick to appear.
