Monday, March 25, 2013

March March March!


Hello!  Greetings!  Molweni! I'm fine, thank you for asking... 


Today, as I set about starting my latest blog post, it is March 10, 2013.  Which means several things: 1) Today was daylight savings! I learned about this in a most unfortunate way, signing onto skype to finally have a date with a friend only to hear (via e-mail) the following: "dude, it's 1PM... what happened?".  Daylight savings happened. As it were.  And it's not my fault, it's the agricultural history of the United States' fault! So there. I accept no responsibility for that country's silly practices that no one else in the world follows.  Pah.  2)  It's 2013, and I haven't posted a new blog post. 3) It's March -- meaning the world is entering into a transitory season -- Spring for you! Fall for me! A beautiful, fresh, and moderate change of pace for all.  4)  It's high time for me to write a blog post.


So, two particularly amazing things have happened since the start of 2013 and my return to Cape Town after December holidays.  Both fall under the same acronym: TOC, aka "Training of Coaches".  Is it really necessary to acronyze (yes I know that's not a real verb) "Training of Coaches"??? you might ask yourself.  Positively not, I might respond.  It would make much more sense to simply refer to them as "trainings" -- which happens sometimes.  But TOC is much preferred. Largely because Grassroot Soccer has a special fondness for acronyms because we are all closet-nerds and it makes us feel like we are speaking Elvish. What?  Who said that?  Eherm...


What is a TOC/Training of Coaches, anyway?
It might sound self-explanatory, and in many ways it is.  But there is more to it than you might imagine, and therefore TOC's deserve a wee bit of explanation: Once a year, every single Grassroot Soccer site (Cape Town, Joberg, Zambia, Lesotho, etc...) recruits and selects new coaches.  [Grassroot Soccer calls the young leaders who facilitate their curricula "coaches" in line with the unifying methodology and ideology of soccer that characterizes all of our curricula.  If you didn't know this already then you haven't been reading my blog, which is very sad for you].  Anyway, the recruitment and selection process (in theory) involves the following: months of planning, marketing, and soliciting; weeks of interviews; days of final selection.  In practice, this process often ends up hopelessly condensed.  Although, if the quality of our new coaches is anything to go by, our condensation has not been overly detrimental.  At any rate, after the selection process, all new coaches must go through an all-day, intensive, 5 day training.  Of course, the backbone of the training involves guiding our coaches through the relevant curriculum.  Crucially, however, trainings also involves orienting or re-orienting coaches to the bizarro-world called GRS -- a world in which praise is given via the "kilo", in which TLC stands for "Tell it. Label it. Celebrate it" and in which coaches, despite being volunteers at the "bottom" of the organizational pyramid, are unequivocally GRS' most valuable assets.


Skillz Core TOC:
Grassroots Soccer has 3 main curricula which are implemented regularly in South Africa: Generation Skillz, Skillz Core, and Skillz Street.  Generation Skillz is our HIV/AIDS and life skills curriculum designed for primary schoolers between the ages of 10-14.  Skillz Core is our HIV/AIDS and life skills curriculum designed for high schoolers, ages 15-18.  Skillz Street (holla!) is our girls only HIV/AIDS and life skills curriculum delivered to high schoolers, ages 15-19.  Coaches receive separate training on each curriculum that they implement; if you haven't been trained in a specific curriculum, you will not be asked (or permitted) to implement that curriculum.   Skillz Core is the only curriculum for which every coach is guaranteed a training; an ever-evolving version of the first ever GRS SKILLZ curriculum, Skillz Core is the first GRS curriculum taught to all new coaches. 

Generation Skillz
“Booster” TOC: Utshintsho
During the second week of February, the Football for Hope Center Khayelitsha hosted a TOC for Cape Town’s “old” coaches (coaches who have been working as a GRS Coach for 1+ years).  The TOC followed a brand new curriculum (not one of the pillar three mentioned above) – a curriculum that grew out of the baseline results of GRS’ (currently operating) randomized control trial, the GOAL Trial. 

 
GOAL TRIAL, Brief Blurb:
The GOAL Trial is Grassroot Soccer’s first ever Randomized Control Trial (RCT), tracking the behavior & attitudes of grade 9 learners who have received GRS’ co-ed high school curriculum (Generation Skillz) against the behavior of grade 9 learners who have not participated in any GRS activities.  The study, which began in 2012, will track behavior and behavior change over the course of 3 years.  Data consists of completed surveys from more than 4,500 grade 9 learners living in the informal settlements surrounding Cape Town and Port Elizabeth (a small city c. 7 hours north of Cape Town).  170 questions in total, completed surveys offer a highly detailed, sensitive, and comprehensive snapshot of participant behavior, with a particular focus on participant attitudes towards and behaviors associated with HIV/AIDS.  Surveys also collect demographic information to assist in data-analysis. Surveys are collected on mobile phones (devices which South Africans generally consider to be the most comforting personal accessory on the planet) in order to ensure that participants’ feel secure in their anonymity; [anonymity à honesty].  In all cases, participants and parents must provide written consent before completing surveys.

GOAL TRIAL, baseline results:

Because it started in 2012, the GOAL Trial has only completed its first round of data collection à the data that has been collected is “baseline” data; “Baseline” data does not reflect behavior change over time, but, rather indicates the state of affairs at the beginning of the study.

Notably, the state of affairs reflected by the baseline data is appalling.

It is not shocking -- many staff members as well as South Africans living within these communities expected gender-based-violence rates to be higher --  but it is appalling. And, perhaps more productively: groundbreaking – this is the first such compilation of baseline data for grade 9 learners in South Africa that exists. [It’s also the first RCT being conducted in the field of Sport for Development, but that’s a different story…]

For context, for both sexes, the average age of students completing surveys fell between 15 and 16.

By sex, average ages were:

                        Males: 15.96                                    Female: 15.43

The category of data that directly fed the content of Utshintsho (Grassroot Soccer’s brand new curriculum – first mentioned above -- which our “old” coaches were trained on in February 2013) was the data reflecting trends of gender-based-violence within these communities.  A sample of this data follows below:

36% of males [avg. age 15] reported inter-partner-violence perpetration (IPV)

-       this means that the 36% of males self-reported (admitted to) having committed violent act(s) against a woman with whom they were sexually involved.

27% of males [avg. age 15] reported rape perpetration over the course of their life times

-       “rape perpetration” means, simply, rape; 27% of 15 year old males in the study admitted to having committed rape at some point during their lives.

16% of males [avg. age 15] reported rape-perpetration in the last 12 months

-       in an average classroom of 50 students, at least 4 grade 9 learners admitted to having perpetrated rape at or before the age of 14.

30% of female participants (avg. age 15) had been victims of inter-partner-violence.
-       Females were not asked whether they had ever committed IPV, but they were asked whether they had ever been a victim of IPV. 
           
This and other data led to Utshintsho’s development as a curriculum aimed at reducing the prevalence and acceptance of gender-based violence; the curriculum addresses (among other things) gendered power-dynamics and male-female relationships in local communities, as well as the retention and utilization of power as a general, theoretical issue. 

Utshintsho Training: getting right to it…

With an explicitly gendered focus, the Utshintsho training was bound to be… an experience.  [Utshintsho means “change” in Xhosa]. 

Trainings/TOC’s, involve many active components.  Yet, the most fundamental component is this: a TOC is a coach’s first introduction to the curriculum in training.  During that introduction, the coach meets the curriculum as a participant; the training team (which comes from HQ) facilitates every practice as if the coaches were the learners who the curriculum was designed for. As a corollary, (in theory) coaches must put on their “kid” hats during practices.  In practice, the participant/coach-in-training line is hazy – often cris-crossed, often forgotten. But more on this later…

       ***

            Naturally, the day of training that stood out the most was a day fraught with tension.  The focus of that day’s training was power.

It started off like this: in an unexpected introduction to an insane activity, Mr. D (genius pied piper/puppet master of the Grassroot Soccer training team) split our coaches into two (mixed-gender) groups.  To one group, he gave (blown-up) balloons.  To the others, he gave pins.

Then, he set them free.

Balloons as life:

You might imagine the pandemonium that ensued.  Naturally, I stood in the corner horrified and not a little convinced that Mr. D had lost his mind.  Our coaches are grown; the youngest is 19.  And yet, as I’m sure any age group given the same tools might be, they were absolutely out of control.  The balloon-keepers were frenzied, screaming and running as they desperately tried to protect their poor, vulnerable sacks of air.  It may have been a game, but it was not a joke; these coaches had been entrusted with defenseless balloons and dang-it-all they were going to protect them at all costs.  At the same time, the pin-keepers were busy seeing red.  As if possessed, the pin-keepers (men and women) chased and popped balloons like mad-people.  They stalked and they hunted and they killed.  They would not rest until every balloon had been popped.  One balloon-protecting coach literally ran straight out of the football for hope center and clear across the adjacent square; the last remaining balloon-keeper, the rest of us watched from the windows as 4 pin-keepers chased him, cornered him and, finally (yes) killed his dear balloon.  It may be my memory, but I do remember Lubabalo throwing up his hands in despair when the deed had been done at last.
As witness to this insanity (alone and in the corner) all that I could think of was the pandemonium that was sure to ensue when coaches implemented this activity with real live, (teenage!) Generation Skillz participants.  [Thankfully, I learned after-the-fact, that this activity is not actually part of the curriculum; the balloon “game” was only a part of the training, used to spark a very particular sort of discussion amongst the coaches]
Regardless, once the last balloon had met its tragic end and the madness had finally ceased, Mr. D gathered all of the coaches in a circle to debrief.  He looked around with that classic, puzzled-but-hopelessly-intrigued Mr. D face and asked them “What just happened?”  The coaches offered the only sensible reply: “You gave some of us pins, and some of us balloons, and we popped all of the balloons!” they responded. 
And here, Mr. D put on the most puzzled of puzzled expressions, took a deep breath, had another look around, and said: “But why?  I didn’t tell anyone to go around popping balloons.  I simply gave some of you pins… so why did you do it…?”

Interlude
Parenthetically, it was here that I had my own epiphany.  Not only did I suddenly understand the purpose of the activity -- in a swoosh that I truly experienced as a physical sensation -- but the absolute genius of Mr. D’s delivery and facilitation struck me like a freight train… he gave them the pins without any explicit instruction whatsoever, and knowing that the ones with the pins would automatically attack the ones with the balloons!  (I thought).  If he asked them why they did this, they were bound to give the most obvious of obvious answers: “you gave me a pin!!!” – and then they had snared themselves right in his trap.  And from this trap he would flawlessly lead the unsuspecting coaches from their land of balloon-popping frenzy into a land of reflexive contemplation – ‘what does it mean to have the pin in this activity?’ ‘what it means to have the metaphorical pin in life?’ and, finally, ‘if somehow, by whatever means, you have wound up with a pin, how does (or doesn’t) that authorize you to wield it?’

Practice 3: Unhealthy and Healthy Relationships

Of course, there were many more sessions of the TOC that prompted a complex series of emotions.  Since I cannot possibly describe them all here, I’ll offer only one more description – a description of the other session that I found most… surprising.  This time, the session was a run-through of an actual practice: Practice 3 – Identifying Unhealthy and Healthy Relationships.

The practice took place outside.  It was a hot day and the turf of the soccer field (being rubber) made it all the hotter.  Actually, it took only 2 minutes of standing outside before I sprinted back into the office and slathered my face in SPF 70.  Yes, I already donned a cap and huge sunglasses.  But, as our FFHC Moms said (not at all ironically) as she witnessed my frantic application of sun-block: “ahhh shame – it’s hard to be umlungu.”  But I digress…  I’m disappointed to recount that, when I made it back to the practice, the other women (our female coaches who were not direct participants in this male-only practice) were lounging on the sidelines, trying to stay in the shade, completely absorbed in the vortexes of their phones.  In the end, it is their loss; if they hadn’t been so consumed, happening barely 2 meters away from them, this is what they would have seen…
First, 2 parallel lines, each consisting of 6 orange equidistant soccer cones.  For anyone who has ever played soccer (or for anyone familiar with the original Generation Skillz curriculum) they would have recognized a classic, basic – drill.  In the form of a relay, players (while dribbling a ball) weave through the cones 1 by 1 (without ever touching a cone!) and, upon successfully passing the last cone, pass the ball back to the next player in line who follows suit.  The first team to successfully see all of its players through the relay wins.
Every person present recognized the drill.  So the 2 (male) members of the training team facilitating the practice surprised exactly no one when they split the male coaches into 2 equal groups and asked each group to line up behind a set of cones.  It was only then that expectations were began to budge…
First, Jamison (primary practice-facilitator) walked casually over to one of the teams and pulled those coaches into a closed huddle.  Those of us not in the huddle (including myself, all of the women, and of course the other team of male coaches) could hear no distinct words.  What we could hear, interspersed with light-hearted jabbering, was laughter and other exclamations of excitemen. Then Jamison, having established quite an apparent camaraderie with the one team, walked back to the front of both lines and casually introduced the rules of the game: 
1.     The game would be a race to the finish. (no surprises there)
2.    the first team to see all of its members successfully dribble through all of the cones wins. (ditto. But don’t worry, here comes the good part…)
3.    One teams, the team that Jamison had just huddled with, would play an additional role: they would make up a new rule every round…  Any rule they wanted.

Jamison gave the floor to the rule-making team.

You can imagine the surprised response of the other team.  The rule-
makers had been briefed during their exclusive huddle.  The other team (we’ll call them the “rule-takers”) was hit unawares.  Truthfully, I was surprised by the visible response of the rule-takers -- it wasn’t overstated, there was no rioting.
Rather, there was pervasive, subdued, confusion: “What???  Really...?”

The spokesman for the rule-makers then proceeded with his first rule:
He picked up the sixth cone of his own team’s line and appended it to end of the rule-takers.  Rule-makers now had 5 cones to dribble through.  Rule-takers suddenly had 7.  I think the rule-takers initially expected Jamison to intervene.  Surely, the power to devise new rules did not include the power to unambiguously disadvantage the other team?  Of course, apparently, it did indeed; Jamison said, “Okay, cool! Everybody ready?”  The rule-takers gaped at him in stunned disbelief, as the rule-makers excitedly prepared for the whistle.  They seemed pretty pleased.  Jamison waited just long enough for the rule-takers to close their mouths before blowing his whistle.  The rule-takers hustled into order, visibly annoyed.  The word “really?” seemed to hang, disbelieving, in the space above their heads. Again, they were far from riotous.  But now you could see it: they were annoyed.  Me? I stayed awkwardly on the sideline.  “Really?” hung in italics above my head too.
            But, fair or unfair, the game went on and both teams played honestly according to the rules. 

The rule-making team won.

            Jamison started to cheer. 

He ran over to the rule-makers team and congratulated them one by one.  High fives, hand-shakes, “awesome job guys!” – the rule-makers (and Jamison) were a happy bunch.
            The other team still stood in their line, a meter and a half away.  Hands on hips or arms crossed or hanging limply at their sides, except for a few head-shakes and commiserating glances, the rule-takers were silent.  Once Jamison pulled himself away from the celebration, he looked at the rule-takers dismissively and asked them to please line back up -- they were going to play again.

            In fact, the game continued for another three rounds.  Each round, the rules became more and more ludicrous.  First the rule-takers dribbled backwards.  Then they dribbled backwards with their eyes closed.  By the last round, they were on their knees, eyes closed, arms behind their back, trying to dribble by pushing the ball with the tops of their head. The whole time, they had an extra cone.
By this point, you could say they were riotous.  But less in an explosively outraged way and more in an exhausted, flattened sort of way.  Some coaches sat down and refused to play.  Others appealed to Jamison in vain.  Jamison listened to everything but remained dismissive: “Okay, okay, yeah… I hear you… Can you get back in line please?”
As an observer, I wondered awkwardly at both teams.  I struggled to decide which team made me more uncomfortable – the somber, quiet, visibly upset ones, or the taunting, jeering, jovial rule-makers.  Ultimately, I settled on the rule-makers. They were impervious to the spirit of the other team.  No, worse -- they were energized by it.  They started taunting even through their dribbling -- taking their sweet time, pulling fancy movies, absolutely relishing having no competition.  They laughed at the other team’s pathetic attempts to stay in the game despite their ridiculous disadvantage.
            I felt like I was watching a psychological experiment.
And, in fact, I was; the “kid hats” had flown out the window.  These were our experienced coaches: brutal, angry and disheartened through and through.


In Defense and Justification…

Horribly unpleasant exercise always followed by meaningful debrief, discussion, and explanation.

 Grassroot Soccer does not seek to create/emulate horrific power dichotomies and then send participants off to think what they will.  Rather, the horrible-ness of the emulated experience is used as a (powerful) impetus for a (powerful), vital discussion.  A discussion about power in our lives – how it works in communities, how it manifests in men and in women.  How it benefits us, how it cripples us (even the “beneficiaries”!).  Just like the balloon exercise, Practice 3 triggers a very particular sort of behavior with the explicit intention of calling that displayed behavior into question. What are this behavior’s underlying assumptions?  What are the consequences?  Where do we see it in our communities?  How does it hurt all of us? Why do we do it?
I should also mention that post-exercise facilitation directs discussion towards consequences. [We are only human, and as such less likely to change our behaviors unless forced to smell the reeking odor of negative consequences that affect ourselves].  Always using the game as a grounding focal reference, the debrief-discussion also raises questions about arbitrariness. No redemptive reason exists for why Jamison chose the teams that he chose.  He gave power to the team he happened to be looking at.  There was no other rationale at all.  And yet, despite the complete lack of divine inspiration, the rule-makers were free to manipulate the rule-takers at will. 

Who Benefits? 

In a way, it was comforting that some of the men on the losing team didn’t manage to recover for the whole rest of the day.  Even after the training team had called everyone in for a practice debrief and discussion, even after the explicit intent of the practice (to create an unequal and unhealthy power-dynamic based on arbitrary power-distribution) had been fully exposed and interrogated, members of the losing team failed to recover.  They remained notably withdrawn.  One coach, always characterized by his constant face-eating grin, remained so upset by his experience of the game that the training team debriefed with him again, individually, apart from the rest of the group. 
But to return to my original point, that these coaches remained so upset even after the motive of the exercise had been meticulously dissected and exposed seemed to affirm the potential of the exercise. Yes, they were stuck in a victim-of-cruel-injustice mentality and, consequently, withdrew from the discussion that explored the manifestation of comparable power-dynamics in their community at large. But, crucially, if those coaches left that room feeling horrible, slopping through the sticky psychological mud of arbitrary exploitation, I’m optimistic that somewhere below that slop lies a tiny seed of appreciation – one that can grow and manifest (perhaps subconsciously) in a new perspective on their own community, and (again, perhaps subconscious) an appreciation for the sludge that fully half of their community-members trudge through each and every day.

Reflections…

I’m not expecting a revolution.  [At least, not yet].  But I am hopeful that, as a direct result of intensely uncomfortable experience of power (in something as trivial as a soccer-relay!) these coaches will hesitate the next time someone gives them a pin [I’m mixing metaphors… I hope it works]. 
That’s all: just a hesitation… maybe even slight.  Hesitation is movement, and movement is slow, but so it may be – it’s movement all the same.

I’m afraid this post ran away from me – even more so than usual (way more so than usual).  But I don’t want to close before making one final point: there are many things that SKILLZ practices do right.  I’ve covered at least three over the course of my blog.  But the one I want to leave you with today is something tricky – it’s something that I experienced but never really grasped (not before I was half-way through writing this blog post at least).  It’s something clichéd, but many true things are.  “Unhealthy and Healthy Relationships” could have been a conversation-based practice.  Many of our SKILLZ practices are.  But living the issue – in game or in play – offers a taste of the substance that we would otherwise miss.  I wonder, honestly, whether play-therapy ever really becomes incompatible with our over-developed adult brains or whether, for some tragic reason or another, our over-developed brains have abandoned (arbitrarily) a crucial human mode of comprehension.









Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Firstly, I’ll indulge in a little bit of southern hemisphere bragging by telling you that I spent the best part of today (let’s say, between the hours of 1:00 and 4:00 PM) strolling through the most gorgeous collection of flowers in the world (or the small part I’ve been to) in a floral dress, a hat, and SPF 70… Thank goodness for the breeze, otherwise I might have been the slightest bit overheated.

But of course, that’s just a highlight of the adventuring that I always aspire to (have the energy for)/do on the weekends.  In truth, I more often slog around my house dreaming of decaf coffee as I attempt to recharge; the pace of my weeks, somewhat inconceivably, continues to accelerate.  

First, a disclaimer:
It’s been quite a while since I last posted.  Actually, it’s been a month and a half but I feel as though I could write a (long) novel strictly based off of the happenings of that time period.  Thus, rather than paint in broad strokes, I’m going to (attempt to) describe my experience of one, week-long event – the single most affirming intervention (or volunteer-related experience of any kind): Skillz Street Holiday, Powerchild Campus, Mfuleni, South Africa.

[For the sad folk who hadn’t the pleasure of reading my glorious previous post…]

girls can plan soccer!
A Brief Blurb on SKILLZ Street: Skillz Street is a gender specific, girls-only program designed to address the specific challenges met by females in the communities in which GRS operates.  Such programs are hugely important in communities such as Khayelitsha (where I work) where gendered power-dynamics, socio-economic inequality, and cultural traditions dramatically disempower women.  These factors, combined with the frighteningly high incidents of violence committed in intimate-partner-relationships, help render women in Khayelitsha up to three times as likely as men to contract HIV.  In addition to providing vital health information that has become the GRS’ token, SKILLZ Street aims to use soccer to empower women more generally.  First, our curriculum shows them they can play (typically they are not offered the opportunity).  

Then, over the course of a 10-week intervention, the curriculum and its incredible coaches encourage women to pursue paths of self-actualization, taking into account their extremely limiting socio-cultural context.

SKILLZ Street Holiday, a brief(er) blurb: While the average SKILLZ Street practice takes approximately 10 weeks (10 hour-and-a-half to two-hour “lessons,“ 1/wk) SKILLZ Street Holiday takes 5 days.  Because SKILLZ Street Holiday runs over the school holidays (hence, the “holiday”), it operates like a day camp.  Girls arrive at 9:30 and leave around 4 PM, we provide breakfast and lunch to all of the participants, and we spend the majority of the day bending over backwards to make sure that the girls are having fun, that they’re having fun while learning something, and that they’re having fun while learning something and living out the far too scarce opportunity to receive recognition for the fabulous females they are… just because.  Thus, in a nutshell, in 5 days of SKILLZ Street Holiday Camp, GRS packs in 10 lessons, a graduation, a day for HIV testing, and lots o’ fun.

Our beloved Skillz Street Holiday at Powerchild Campus, Mfuleni, Oct 1-5
[Mfuleni is a township that neighbors Khayelitsha, home to my very own office, the Football for Hope Center]

SKILLZ Holiday camps are somewhat notorious among GRS staff members for being the most over-crowded, over-stimulating, over-tiring experiences one is likely to face while working with the organization – this, from a community of people who, as a rule, work very, very hard for little to no pay.  Early one morning before Skillz Street Holiday Camp, I popped into the downtown Cape Town office (where all of our management personnel typically reside but not where I am based) to print some consent forms.  It was meant to be simply a stop on my way to fetching coaches from Langa (another neighboring township) and scooting directly off to work.  Anyway, as I stood at a counter and groggily checked my e-mail while waiting for HIV-testing consent forms to print, the “Director of Programs” in South Africa walked past me and (in an alarmingly friendly manner) said: “Hey Leah! How’s it going?”  I do think I stared at him for a few seconds before processing the question, heaving a biggish sigh, and saying something to the effect of: “uh, I’m tired, but it’s going pretty well…” (“tired” was an understatement, but one is careful of sounding complain-ey to the Director of Programs in South Africa).  He chuckled.  Apparently my rhetorical strategy hadn’t been so subtle.  Because he proceeded to say “Yea…”) and tell me a story.  The moral of the story being: in the four years he had been working for Grassroot Soccer, he had “lost his cool” [his words, not mine] only once.  The fateful event occurred while he was directing a Skillz Holiday Camp.  I was “assistant-directing…” Skillz Holiday is not for the faint of heart.

To start with, on the first day my team, which consisted of myself, the camp director, and 6 GRS coaches, was expecting approx. 100 girls by 9:30 AM (when the camp was scheduled to start).  Thus, by 11:00AM, with only 35 girls, we were frantic.  But, to our camp director’s credit (and in true GRS form) we fashioned up a new plan pretty darn quick.  It involved: 1) running over to a nearby high school that we hadn’t recruited (because they weren’t yet on holiday) 2) persuading those girls to walk over to our camp after they finished writing their morning exams.  3) [the most inspired incentive] offering free rides from the school to the camp (which were four blocks apart) by a pet mlungu (me).  4)  Keeping the 35 girls who had showed up at 9:30 entertained with soccer games and warm-ups for two and a half hours until the “new girls” could show up, register, have breakfast, and caaaalm down.  **mulungu is Xhosa for “white girl.”  Think gringa in South Africa.**

So I had the pleasure of driving back and forth between Manzomthombo (the school) and Powerchild Campus approximately 10 times (did I mention it was four blocks away?), shuttling at least 15 girls each time (my car has 7 seatbelts).  In fact, I did that for all 5 days (precedent is a powerful thing).  But do you know? We graduated 95 girls.  That’s a good many more than 35… at least… 60 more!

Brief Reflection: My first real clue into the awesome potential of SKILLZ Street Holiday didn’t present itself in opening circle (the song and dance battle/routine that I described from last time – shame on you who have no idea what I’m referring to… scroll up and read my last blog post).  Rather, my first real clue didn’t arrive until Tuesday, the second day of the camp, when after what had seemed to me like a first day of absolute madness, 95 girls came strutting back.  They came back after spending 3-4 hours of Monday in lessons (we call them “practices but they are lessons – lessons carefully contrived to be fun and interactive and inspiring, but lessons nonetheless). Lessons! On school holiday! All of them came back.  And they didn’t come just for the free food.  [I know this because we had an anonymous question box at the camp, and I received at least 20 notes in complaint about how cheap we were for only providing two doughnuts, 1 sandwich, 1 bag of cheetos, 1 apple, and 1 cup of juice every day for lunch.]  Which leads me to my next section…

Not just for the free food: insights into SKILLZ Holiday from my perspective –

  1. I’ve never seen so much energy in one place in my life.  True, I’ve never directed a camp before.  I’ve never been a camp counselor.  But I have been a kid.  And I’ve been a camper.  And although this time around I was coming at the experience from a very different perspective (and age) I can say with absolute certainty that my camper-peers’ energy at my own summer holiday camps had nothin’ on these girls’.  They were animated when they arrived in the morning. They screamed all day.  And then, as they dragged their feet to leave camp in the afternoon, they were animated then too.  Watching them was like watching an energy geyser.  Except, they didn’t so much throw jets of energy into the air at “regular intervals.”  They threw jets of energy into the air constantly.  When they left (finally) late in the afternoons, the silence and emptiness had become so alien that it felt, actually, eerie.
  2. The campers loved each other.  On the first day, the late arrival of 65 girls from Manzomthombo High School led to a palpable social divide; there were the “old girls” (the 9:30 AM girls) and there were the “new girls” (the 11:30AM girls).  The “old girls” stood in a clump and watched “the new girls” come in.  The old girls watched quietly as the “new girls” got their breakfast and started their daily energizers. At that moment, it didn’t seem as if the addition of the 65 “new girls” would constitute the smoothest of transitions.  But unexpectedly (by me), by the middle of the second day, there was one clump.  One, massive, roaring, 95 person clump.  They walked with their arms locked together like a massive blob.  They laughed.  They tormented their coaches (good-humoredly).  In a word, they were delightfully cohesive.
  3. The campers loved the GRS coaches.  Actually, they even loved me by extension. [everyone wants a pet mlugu because they make such fools out of themselves... see below]


  4. Me leading some "energizers"...
    also known as "the funky chicken"
  5. Anyway, on the last day of the camp, the coaches adapted a daily activity where they praise and celebrate camper-girls individually (for a variety of reasons including just being themselves).  The coaches adapted the activity by transferring the role of praise-giver – they let the girls be the praise-givers for each other in a spontaneous moment of brilliance that truly reaffirmed Skillz Street’s attempt to facilitate positive peer communities and personal confidence.  Of course, as brilliant as the idea was, the activity took about 10 times as long as intended.  Once we opened the floor for the girls to praise each other, they simply wouldn’t stop.  Still, to return to my original point (“the campers loved the GRS coaches”) in this activity, the girls created awards of praise for every single one of their coaches (they had not been instructed or encouraged to do this). That, and later in the day they forced the GRS Powerchild team to take about a billion pictures together, give out our phone numbers, and promise that we would both call them and come back to visit.  Leaving was difficult, on both ends.


Not just for the free food: heart-wrenching insights from the girls’ own perspectives:

I’m afraid that if I add too much (any?) exposition, I will detract from the incredible power of these girls’ reflections. So I will quote directly.  But I will say that one thing that became abundantly clear from the discussion that the below excerpts are drawn from is, if nothing else, that SKILLZ Street Holiday made these girls feel appreciated and recognized in ways that were so foreign to them they were both shocked and delighted. And, they were absolutely insistent that we make sure to reach other girls – because (they said) all girls deserve this attention, to be taught that they are beautiful.

** Note on where the below quotations come from: I pulled these quotations comes from a “focus group discussion” that I recorded and took notes on during the last day of the holiday camp.  Because SKILLZ Street is a new curriculum, GRS is running focus group discussions for every round of interventions.  [I had the pleasure of recording, taking notes on, and transcribing the focus group from the last day of holiday camp at Powerchild Campus.] Essentially, a focus group discussion is a structured forum for camp directors to get qualitative feedback from the girls about their experience of Skillz Street.  Ultimately, GRS tries to evaluate the efficacy of its curricula in achieving documented aims by incorporating both quantitative feedback (how many girls graduated, how well they did on their exit-health-education-tests) and qualitative feedback (how they felt about the program).

When asked the first question, “How was the program?” one girl responded:
-       We’re all girls… we’ve never been to a camp like that before.  So when you have to go home it’s like “ahhh – that time has come again!? I want more of getting to know each other and chatting, getting to know ourselves, asking ‘do I know myself now or am I being ignorant?’”
When asked which practices they liked best, one girl responded:
-       that part where we were awarded certificates! I was like ‘Oh wow? I’m actually being recognized for something good?  Something that I did or something that I am?  Somebody actually noticed me for something that I did?’ That was so nice.  I was like: ‘Wow, I’m special.’”
When asked “what did you like about the program?” one girl responded:
-       your presence [the coaches and GRS team] meant a lot to us; as coaches, you appreciate being around us and you recognize or notice us when we are around – that means our participation means a lot to you guys
When asked, “Is there anything GRS should do differently in the future?” (my personal favorite…), girls responded:
-       you shouldn’t pick participants school by school – you should pick girls randomly [from different places] because there are lots of different schools that need Skillz Street and I want them to find the information that we got!
-       We want a sleepover camp! And to see Washington!
-       You guys should have your own place where we could come and see you! Like a center, every day, for everyone!
-       Since we did a girls program for the first time, can we do it for the Grannies as well? I feel like Grannies are not being recognized!  Even if it’s not a camp – something, workshop… some of the Grannies don’t even know how to write their names…
-       We learned a lot from this.  Keep it up in the future. All the best.


In the hopes of maintaining your interest, I’ll leave the quotations at that.  And just in case their wonder and gratitude doesn’t come across, I’ll offer a few words of explanation.  First, the girls loved it. Wholly.  Unabashedly.  They absolutely loved it.  Second, they were so incredibly grateful.  For information about their bodies and their health, yes, but even more so: for the opportunities to appreciate themselves and each other, for the push to believe that they are beautiful, and for the confidence they learned as women, by cultivation and osmosis.  Without specific prompting, these girls literally and verbally affirmed every single aim of Grassroot Soccer Skillz Street: from providing vital health care information, to getting to play soccer, to teaching girls to recognize that they are, can, and will be bad-ass women, strong enough to rule the world…

Skillz Street Divas: 'nuff said.
After all, in the end, “who rules the world? Girlz.”

Love,
Leah

p.s. if you’re inspired, and would like to spread the word and/or donate, please find my information below.  My internship is on a volunteer basis, and it is through your help that I am able to contribute to such an inconceivably worthy project.  The Tuesday after Thanksgiving is “Giving Tuesday” you know… and while that day has passed, my donation box is open ALL YEAR! How fortunate! Because I am only about halfway to my target of $10,000 for the 12 months that I will be here. :-)

***Tax deductible donations! can be made online by visiting:
http://www.grassrootsoccer.org/what-you-can-do/donate/donate-to-an-intern/

OR for the good old-fashioned way, checks can be mailed to:
Grassroot Soccer, PO BOX 712, Norwhich, VT 05055
*Please include a memo on the check that the donation is on behalf of “Leah’s Internship”

p.p.s. if you have any questions or comments of any kind, you can reach me at my e-mail address, lbrown@grassrootsoccer.org. Yes, actually – I would be delighted to hear from you (not least because I might learn that someone has actually seen my blog…)


I'm not sure what the purpose of this game was... but I love this picture.

The End (for now)

Monday, September 3, 2012


Ah the sound of hard rain on sky-lights.  There’s really nothing like it.

If I can reasonably expect the coming year to be anything like my first week with Grassroot Soccer, I can reasonably expect a business (BUSY-NESS) most commonly associated with bees.  Or mayBEES whose nest is on fire (heh).  At any rate, since I left the oh-so-nostalgic heat of my DC home one week ago, there has been so much…. so much…. stuff to tell about. So, so much stuff… just about every dang thing you can think of, actually.  Thus, in recounting my story, I have resolved to start with the last first, lest I never make it to the end.  After all, the end is as good of a beginning as any.

My first week of “work”

The good news, in case anyone was concerned, is that Grassroot Soccer most definitely is a not-for-profit organization.  The office buzzes constantly.  One can positively feel the anxious energy which is almost always channeled towards “making a plan” for some thing or another that (inevitably) was supposed to happen last week.  In accordance, just to keep things interesting (i.e. more frantic than they already would have been) plans absolutely never proceed according to plan.

The other good news is that despite the mania of the endeavor, I actually have a real role to play in it.  To quote one of the directors of the organization (who, incidentally, is quite easily the most beloved single figure in the Cape Town office) “there’s no ways GRS could run without the interns… no ways!”  Indeed, this sentiment has been repeated candidly and frequently since my arrival.  The people whom I would consider the heart and soul of the organization, all seem to think that the interns are the heart and soul of the organization.  That, and, apparently the workhorses of the organization (not to devalue the time spent by real [paid] staff); in a meeting on our first day in the office, our former intern/current trainee introduced us to the all-favored acronym: GTI…. Give It to an Intern.  “It” according to Andrew’s explanation, always seems to be the most time-consuming projects with the smallest budgets.  I think Andrew experienced a slightly troublesome delight at declaring that GTI no longer applied to him but that, rather, he was now free to use it as he would.  But… that’s a story for another day.

Of course, GTI (and every other responsibility) depends upon the fact that interns actually know what’s going on… which is a process that does require some time… which means that despite everyone’s (including mine’s) confidence in the substantive impact I will be able to make with GRS, my role these first few weeks inevitably will be limited. During this first week, for instance, approximately 1/3 of all of my “work” hours translated practically into driving.  Although, upon arrival, I had never logged the practice necessary to render myself a proficient stick-shift-driver, in the last week, I have driven approximately 1000 km.  On the wrong side of the road.  With a standard transmission.  Explanation?  As a “programmes” intern, my job revolves around ensuring that all of the GRS implementation operations that run out of Khayelitsha happen – that they happen properly and roughly according to some (often elusive) plan.  As I just got to site only on Monday, I obviously couldn’t have had anything to do with planning the programs that were actually running that week. Thus, my capacity to facilitate smooth operations was limited to driving coaches around so that they could implement their curricula.

Brief Blurb on Khayelitsha’s Programs:
In total, there are five or six programs that run out of Khayelitsha, each with a different focus.  One program works with pre-school children, one exclusively with high school girls, one program with men between the ages of 19 and 25.  Nonetheless, across the board, locally trained leaders implement all of the curriculi (read: no white people/outsiders of any sort directly implement GRS’ educational programs to the kids). For me (and many others, not just at GRS) this proves crucially legitimating detail… sending a foreigner, especially a white person, into an area that has been systematically denigrated, deprived, and otherwise oppressed explicitly on the basis of race need not be the default model for education. In fact, I think it’s wildly complex to render such a model effective.  I mean… what local Xhosa child is going to pay any attention to my American-English lesson plan??? AS IF.  Just ask any American kid what it was like to sit through sex ed program after sex ed program run by some (always) old married white lady. 

Instead, in GRS educational programs, teachers (whom we call coaches) come from the local community.  Also, they’re pretty young and hip, as some might say… very few coaches over the age of 30.  Moreover, all lessons (which we call practices) are implemented in the local language -- which, by the way, is not English.  In Khayelitsha, it’s Xhosa. 

In sum, I’m not allowed to implement the lessons (le sigh).  But! to keep us sharp, they do let us white girls tag along to practices.  We stick out like a sore thumb, we attract a lot of attention, and for now we just sit in the back of the classroom trying to absorb the lesson via osmosis.  ** disclaimer: eventually (actually, pretty soon) we will be following monitoring and evaluation protocol for these lessons – checking in with the coaches and students on what works, what doesn’t, and what we can do to make GRS programs better; revising the curriculum; providing logistical support, etc…

My first Skillz Street practices (Monday, 20th of August à Friday, 24th of August):

Brief SKILLZ Street Blurb: Skillz Street is a gender specific, girls-only program designed to address the specific challenges met by females in the communities where GRS operates.  Gendered power-dynamics, socio-economic inequality, and cultural traditions consistently (and pretty dramatically) disempower women in these communities.  Among other things, the assumed self-evidence of women’s inferior status renders women up to three times as likely to contract HIV.  SKILLZ Street (in addition to providing GRS’ token health information) aims to use soccer to empower women more generally.  First, GRS shows girls that they can play (South African females are not generally offered the opportunity to play soccer).  Then, SKILLZ Street encourages women to recognize their own capacity to self-actualize even within their limited social context.

I returned to Cape Town, in this internship position, particularly invested in the opportunity to work with this program – obviously, both men and women need and deserve access to adequate health information.  But women are at greater risk, by far, and in many contexts have minimal to non-existent tools to protect themselves against HIV.  Needless to say, I was pretty psyched to get to go witness my first SKILLZ Street practices this week.

From my conservative side it’s a cliché, from my Wesleyan(leftist) side it’s subscribing to exoticism and social othering, but from my practical side, it’s a straight up observation: these girls love, LOVE, love to sing, they love to dance, and they would do it all day if anybody would just let them.

Every SKILLZ Street lesson starts with an “energizer” – an activity (a game, a song, a warm-up, call and response, some combination of the aforementioned and the not-mentioned).  In fact, every GRS program starts with a “gizer” of some sort.  During our orientation (which was four days) we probably learned about 25 of them.  But of all three SKILLZ Street lessons I went to in the last week, every single one of them started with a song.  And, by the way, the coach was not the person who chose the song.  Rather, the girls would run out of class at the end of the school day, gather in a clump, and start singing – (clearly, there’s a large collection of songs that every school-child knows, kind of like every American child learns “Mary Had a Little Lamb” except the songs that these girls learn actually have a beat that is a crucial part of the song… all I’m saying is that no song I ever learned as a child had a beat.  Except the ones in Hebrew.  Hooray for Anglo-America’s non-existent musical tradition… NOT).

Anyway, these girls’ enthusiasm for the songs they sing (even though they sang the exact same variety at three different occasions throughout the week) is totally contagious.  They get so into it that they start song-battling each other… no, I’m not joking.  My favorite moment of the last week happened this past Thursday.  I was at a school in Langa, a different township outside of Cape Town, when (as I just described) a group of about 35 SKILLZ Street Girls ran out of class and began (at no prompting by our coaches) their song and dance routine.  The coaches were sitting this part out, because they were waiting for a group of girls from a neighboring school to arrive (read: they were sitting around laughing at how the girls were gizer-ing themselves without any help, without the program at all).  So, this group of 35 girls were all singing (extremely loudly) in the school parking lot when another group of 35 girls came around the corner, lead by 2 SKILLZ Street coaches, singing a different song...

For my (limited) “Western” frame of reference, it was like something out of West Side Story.  One group was in maroon uniforms, the other in navy.  One group was standing and waiting, the other group was (effectively) marching towards the waiters.  As soon as the two caught sight of each other, the maroon’s (who had been waiting in the parking lot screamed, while still singing their song) and started to run towards the navy’s.  The navy group simply proceeded on their march.  Then, when the gap narrowed to approximately half a meter, they faced off.  The competition was obvious and pretty inclusive – they battled for volume, they battled for energy, they battled for coolness.  And they were so, so, so excited about it.  It was undeniable.  It was contagious.  It was awesome.

Simply the fact that this display was (albeit loosely) associated with these girls’ engagement in SKILLZ Street was pretty inspiring and comforting, all at the same time. From my own personal experience, it’s pretty difficult to imagine an after-school educational program that anyone would give a rat’s poop about.  Especially if it’s some sort of health education.  That stuff was a boring drag that everyone that I ever knew or heard of ignored without exception.  You had to be part of it, but you weren’t about to like it.  In fact, if you didn’t demonstrably exhibit your boredom, you were socially ostracized.  No one did health education willingly.  Even raising your hand to answer a question in health ed was a sure plummet to the pit that lies below the bottom rung of the social ladder.  That was my experience.  The difference with these girls was that they had chosen to be a part of SKILLZ Street. Even more astoundingly, the vast majority of them were very, very present.  They actually engaged.  In SKILLZ Street, the unenthusiastic girls were the obvious minority.

True, once the gizers ended and the substantive part of the practices began, general energy level deflated some. Even then, however, general levels of attention and engagement remained alarmingly high.  Coaches’ questions met many answers from across the room at once. Small group discussions actually followed the prompts.  Girls debated vociferously.  It was remarkable, and, (yes) also awesome.

Disclaimer: I don’t know the lessons or the programs or even the organization well enough to say why this model works in a way that none of my own health-ed programs did.  My understanding is also (severely) limited by the odd English word interspersed in practices implemented in Xhosa… hopefully I will have more productive insights into this in the future.


My first trip to site: Football for Hope Center, Khayelitsha, Cape Town

On Friday, the 18th of August, I first visited my office – the home-base I will operate out of for the coming year.  A legacy of the 2010 World Cup in South Africa, the Football for Hope Center in Khayelitsha was funded by FIFA as part of an initiative to link kids to health through soccer.  (see pic below, in all of it's glory)



below: Football for Hope Center's very own soccer pitch (Khayelitsha semi-represented in the background)



below: same soccer pitch, slightly different angle




On my first day, I can’t say that I actually did any “work” in Khayelitsha.  Rather, I busied myself with something akin to “orientation” but far from sterile, or standard, or “professional.” Of course, standard orientations are generally miserable, so this deviation was more than fine with me.  Self-consciousness (one of the many million things that tends to make team-building and ice-breakers so horrid) was totally lacking from my first day at Khayelitsha. (I generalize, of course).  At Khayelitsha, self-conscious awkwardness was minimal, largely due to the fact that everyone embraced their own personal and collective awkwardness.  Most everybody was recklessly unabashed. 

Even though only two GRS interns (myself and my co-intern/partner in crime Jessi) will be working out of Khayelitsha, all ten Cape Town interns visited the Football for Hope Center that day.  Our first introductions to the team there offer a very representative glimpse of the social atmosphere I am trying to relate: as part of our initial introductions, each of us (interns) sat in a circle, interspersed amongst the local staff (normal, thus far).  Then we went around saying names (shocking!) where we were from (DC represent!) and then… yes… the favored aspect of the introduction (in fact, the only reason the local staff sees to do it) – the demonstration of a favorite dance move.

Thus, I learned my first of many crucial social lessons – a lesson that was to be reiterated over and over again over the course of the week: black Africans, every bit as much as (and maybe more than) black Americans, think white people dancing is the most reliably, timelessly, hilarious source of entertainment. In the first place, because they expect that you can’t.  Of course, in a turn of events that delights me, both Jessi and I complicate this standard; Jessi is a dancer, and I myself got (some) rhythm.  At our first SKIILZ Street practice, our coordinator Mphaki literally couldn’t believe that we could actually participate in the gizer (which involved… imagine… A BEAT!!!)  Indeed, she started sputtering when Jessi and I not only carried the beat but moved with it!!! A similarly revealing side note: I was dancing at a bar last night with my sister, and a black African came up to her and said: “is that your sister?” and she said “yes.” And he said: “I love it when I see white people who can dance because it happens so so rarely!”

Yes, if you were to lean overly towards the politically correct side of things (and some of you do) you might find this assumption (that white people can’t dance) offensive.  But political correctedness does not exist in South Africa any more than Kraft macaroni and cheese.  But shamelessness?  We’ve got it in spades. If not in Khayelitsha, then in Grassroot Soccer. If you didn’t have it when you came in, you developed it within a week…  Sink or swim.  Laugh or die.

Wrap-Up

GRS is special.  Yes there are some classic failures in communication and almost everyone that works there is over-stretched.  But everyone who works there also wants to be there, works overtime not to get paid (which they don’t) but because they believe in the GRS model – and it works (**more on how we know this later**)...  The kids GRS works with want to be there. Somehow, finally, someone has thought of a way to use the incredible power of soccer in southern Africa to improve quality of life. Sport for development…. Such a simple idea….. Whodathunkit.

***

I think that’s all for now.  I can’t imagine spending the time to read someone else’s four page blog post so I don’t really expect many of you to make it to here.  If you have… GOOD for you!  Your attention span is better than mine.  And apparently you have time on your hands! Thus, if you have nothing better to do send me an e-mail (relevant or otherwise) at lybrown@wesleyan.edu!  I don’t have internet in my house and was always notoriously bad at communication, but that don’t mean I don’t get your e-mails and delight in them!  It simply means I will struggle to respond within a year [partial joke].

Also, you few with time on your hands, I beseech you: use your time to blab about my project to ANYBODY who might have the slightest interest in sponsoring my internship (which is unpaid, by the way).  Please give them the link to this blog, and my e-mail, and my fundraising materials (which I will attach) and absolutely anything else that you think might be useful.  Parenthetically:

***Tax deductible donations! can be mailed to:
Grassroot Soccer, PO BOX 712, Norwhich, VT 05055
*Please include a memo on the check that the donation is on behalf of “Leah’s Internship”

Or, for online donations, visit: http://www.grassrootsoccer.org/what-you-can-do/donate/donate-to-an-intern/***

Be a go-between, put me in contact with them directly, do absolutely anything you would to facilitate their support! I appreciate all of the help I can get.  I am not, how you say, a complete success with ze advertising/fundraising aspect of zis piece, even zough I depend on donations for food...  And I like food…  and I vould like to continue to eat it…  Tell your friends.

THANK YOU!

For reading.  I hope you found this mildly entertaining.  If you didn’t, do something else with your time!; do you, dude… do you.

Peace and cheese muffins,
Leah

p.s. whatever your reason, check out this video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kyplef2Hi6Y&noredirect=1
"When Silas Haggerty went to Zambia in 2006 to see how soccer could change lives, here is what he saw..."

p.p.s. in case you didn't know, this is the kind of view one gets in Cape Town... even from a humble abode.... make a visit!!!




Saturday, June 16, 2012

First EVER blog post.... "the prequel"

Yo!

It has take me much longer than I possibly could have anticipated to simply set this page up.  I am not, as you might say, up to speed on the technology situation...

But I will learn! And this (very basic) blog that I have just created will be the platform for me to share what I'm doing with Grassroot Soccer from the time that I arrive in Cape Town in early August.  Here I will post my trials, travails, tasks, torments, thoughts and anything else I can think of that might illustrate the goings on of my every day life as a GRS programmes intern.  I will upload pictures to motivate you to hoard up some money and come for a visit.  I will then proceed to deter you by recounting the horrors that South Africans believe about Americans.  In a word, I will do my best to imagine what it is that you the reader might want to hear about my experience as a GRS intern and then translate whatever that might be into a far more coherent blog post than this....

So, if you are interested, please stay tuned.  Once I actually get to my site, there will be so much more to follow........

Cheers.