Arsenal Gap Programme - Johannesburg 2017

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The End

This post was inspired by the work of Congolese poet and novelist JJ Bola and ‘Dead Aid’ by the Zambian economist Dambisa Moyo.

Dead Aid?

Between 1970 and 1998 aid flows to Africa reached their peak. Despite this, poverty rates rose from 11% to a staggering 66% in the continent.

I’m not big on stats, but that’s absolutely mental.

In recent years South Africa, along with Botswana, has reduced its reliance upon foreign aid and and has consistently performed better financially when compared to other African nations. As South Africa works steadily towards a positive self-sufficient future, neighbouring countries continue to struggle amidst large-scale poverty.

The cause

Historical factors have been put forward as explanations for Africa’s underachievement. Colonial rule set the standard for pillaging resource rich nations. From an abundance of gold in South Africa to diamonds in Sierra Leone. The treasure has gradually found its way into the tight grasp of the West.

Others have proposed that environmental conditions are to blame. Economist Paul Collier notes that the African population is heavily pooled around resource-poor landlocked countries. In comparison to resource-rich nations and those with a coastline, the landlocked resource-scarce countries consistently perform worse. It has also been argued that the presence of disparate tribal divisions makes progress difficult. The more a country is divided, the greater the prospects of civil unrest. War has a significant impact on national GDP.

However, these are not conclusive arguments: Firstly, Switzerland is landlocked, but operates as a financial powerhouse. Secondly, in terms of cultural division, many nations (including Botswana, Ghana, Zambia) have disparate tribal groups that coexist peacefully.

There may be debate as to the cause, but until now, there has been close to unanimous agreement on the resolution.

Making Poverty History

Whether economically, politically or morally motivated, the Western solution to monetary problems in developing countries has long been financial largesse through loans and grants. However, this has proved not to be a sustainable method. It may have worked in Europe after WW2, but a more holistic strategy focusing on infrastructure is clearly needed in Africa.

Sustainable profit is not merely an organisational objective. Nations also require long term capital stability. Currently, aid exists in both humanitarian and emergency forms. In addition to this, funds may be sent directly to governments through systematic aid. The fourth form is most recognisable to us in the West - charitable aid. See below:

Comic Relief - a 3 hour TV slot where British people consume a carefully coded output of poverty porn intermittently interrupted by David Walliams’ camp quips about him fancying the fella who was delivering aid to an Ethiopian orphanage.

Live Aid- Where ‘public discourse becomes a public disco’. Bizarrely, the solutions to crises in Africa have been left in the hands of musicians residing outside the continent. One critic of the aid model said of Bono and Geldof’s glamour philanthropy ‘my voice cannot compete with an electric guitar.’

We grow desensitised to the persistent imagery of the malnourished — flies on the faces of infants with water retained stomachs. Our sympathetic guilt ends as soon as Lenny Henry waves goodbye to another biannual telethon and the National Lottery begins — a gruelling testimony of our hurtling entry into the satirical dystopia of currency confusion. Put aside Comic Relief’s morally suspect links to arms manufacturers and simply analyse it as a strategy for sustainability. It is fundamentally flawed.

“You are allowed to be sad now”…“Now you can laugh”…“Hand us your money”…chirps another affable nitwit stood next to Fern Cotton. I cannot imagine a more overtly patronising format for distributing wealth.

Rethinking The Big Issue

But let’s face it. The obstinate issue of poverty is not going to be solved by Davina McCall sat in a bathtub full of baked beans. Nor is it solved by systematic grants covering debt only made by the previous loan. Just thirty years ago Malawi, Burundi and Burkina Faso were economically ahead of China. Following foreign direct investment and rapidly growing exports China has prospered way beyond the sub-Saharan nations — And not as a result of aid. Development of infrastructure and tourism are other more sustainable streams of national revenue, as opposed to aid-reliance which reduces Africa to a perpetual childlike state.

So what can we do?

As a collective, we can try to alter the narrative. South Africa has a blossoming tourism industry. The beauty of the continent expands way beyond — from the coast of Lekki beach to the grasslands of the Maasai Mara National Reserve. Visit Africa. Support African-owned business and fair-trade produce. Discover the music, the writers, and the arts from the continent. It’s a starting point, if nothing more.

My tourist guide

Even after a 3 month stay, I am not yet fully qualified to provide the perfect South African visitors guide. But I have many recommendations should you ever choose to visit Madiba’s melting pot. Start off at the vibrant cultural enclave of Soweto, where you’ll find a plethora of bars and food spots, in addition to the humbling surroundings of Mandela House.

Then head to Braamfontein. A short taxi trip from the simmering city centre will take you to the artistically influenced market town. South Africa is home to poetry slams, wine tasting, art exhibitions and live jazz performances.

You can bungee jump from Orlando Towers, travel up the tallest building in Africa or take in a PSL game at the enormous FNB Stadium. Visit the Union Buildings in Pretoria and stop by at the zoo. If you prefer beaches, head to Cape Town or Durban. Go whale watching or admire the dolphin's dance above the waves as you read a novel on the sand.

To conclude

Whilst we must encourage tourism and foreign direct investment, it is vital to see growth in the absence of gentrification. Culture and heritage must not be appropriated through capitalist cleansing. Tradition is important.

Dependence on aid has not worked. It does not generate sustained growth in the world’s poorest countries. Diminishing reliance upon the aid-model, as South Africa and Botswana have done, removes incentives for conflict. It has long been a cause for corruption rather than a remedy. For the most poverty-stricken, this aid hasn’t even been accessible.

African development depends on new level of consciousness and an honest, innovative approach.

African proverb

The best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago. The second-best time is now.

African Businesses

A list of black owned businesses in the UK (www.ukblackowned.co.uk) that support Africa:

Vitae London- For every purchase of a Vitae watch, a South African child is supplied with two sets of school uniform, a bag and footwear (www.vitaelondon.com)

Destination Africa- Workshops designed to engage children, parents and even grandparents in discovering and enjoying various cultures of Africa (www.destination-africa.co.uk)

IYALI- Social enterprise designed to crowd-fund and invest in different black-owned businesses every month (www.iyali.co.uk)

Tropical Naturals - Nigerian manufacturer of health and beauty products including the famous Dudu Osun (https://goo.gl/AApqgQ)

Creative Curls- Ugandan artist Erina Nyonyintono produces acrylic portraits which shine a positive light on Africa as a whole (www.creativecurls.co.uk)

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The Final Third

I’ve entered into my final month in South Africa and it’s now visibly evident. My earrings are rusting and my hair’s rapidly approaching the point where strangers demand me to get it cut. I was hoping to elegantly metamorphosize into Hector Bellerin, but I bear closer resemblance to Yossi Benayoun after a rough 10 days in Magaluf.

After two months in one place, it becomes very easy to “make yourself at home”. You grow too comfortable. Like a friend who puts their feet on the coffee table. Or a PM who calls for a snap election.

You start to lie to yourself.

“I feel safe here” I say, as I rub the anti-bacterial into my hands and begin to pour the 5L spring water into a smaller vessel — a desperate attempt to avoid the perpetual threat posed by taps.

“I’m becoming more culturally enlightened” I begin to think, as I watch the latest series of Big Brother on YouTube whilst eating Weetbix from a partially washed saucepan. Unfortunately ‘Weetbix’ is not a typo. I wish it was. It is, in fact, a deeply unpalatable simulacrum of the British breakfast favourite — Weetabix. The flavour sits haphazardly between tumble dryer lint and sawdust.

As the Jozi winter draws in, and I swaddle myself in a luscious layer of lies, it’s important to stay grounded and remember the true reasons for my visit. Community work in a developing city puts emphasis on culture, identity and status. It highlights the value of maintaining equilibrium amidst the chaos.

So I’ll quote the great Lauryn Hill, as I piece together the hotchpotch to establish my role amongst all of this. (The song’s called Tell Him).

Let me be patient.

If nothing else, my travels to South Africa have taught me one crucial life skill. Patience. African timing can often feel like a cerebral malfunction. The severity of disorganisation can feel like a personal attack. But with patience, comes calm. After all, if the problem has a solution, why worry? If the problem has no solution, why worry?

Patience is key. The barriers in language can cause confusion and delay. But communication through passion, enthusiasm, attentiveness and care translates universally. If all else fails, we all understand the beautiful game.

Let me be kind.

"Now I may have faith to make mountains fall, but if I lack love, then I am nothing at all.”

Belief in good outcomes are fundamental to success, but approaching situations with love and kindness can bring greater prosperity. Community outreach relies upon this. With the inspiration of the Zulu people, I’ve found no strain in the act of kindness. Children, in particular, inspire me.

In her book 'The Kindness of Children’, Vivian Gussin Paley states that 'Children are deeply curious about odd behaviors and seldom offended or worried by them. What a remarkable gift to bestow on another person, it occurs to me, and so difficult for adults to accomplish.’ Children approach differences with pure curiosity, never making prejudicial judgements. Even in the midst of a fight or disagreement, it appears to be no more than a temporary blip — a technical glitch before they revert to innocence.

We are greeted with goodwill and affection whenever we visit a new community. The children are joy carriers, beaming smiles that have the power to revitalise me from homesickness and fatigue.

Make me unselfish.

I have the comfort of being in a financially stable position. With such privilege, also comes greater immunity to time, and the additional privileges of energy and choice. Those that languish beneath the poverty line strive day-to-day. I skip and whistle above the line, preparing my next year with vitality and vigour. I’m left with enough spare hours to sit in TGI’s, growing anxious of my BMI or my PPI or early onset RSI.

It’s important to avoid fixation with such first world acronyms. Instead I must understand the position I am in and aim towards unselfishness. Give whenever I can. I must also be unselfish with my energy and give others the very best of me. Privilege provides idyllic comforts that can sometimes promote idleness — An avoidance of self-challenge. But there’s a selfishness that exists in such a bubble. Pop.

Without being blind.

Whilst selfishness is corrosive, total openness can be equally hazardous. Never lose sight of your values. Nurture self awareness and sustain strength.

I must also never close my eyes to the suffering. A quick glance at Johannesburg’s CBD and you’ll be forgiven for thinking Stevie Wonder’s 'Village Ghetto Land’ was written about this city. As I pass through town in a taxi, I witness a thin man weakly palming through a refuse sack. His eyes widen, as he lifts a ripped carton above his head, not dissimilarly to a World Cup victor. He lowers his prize and tenderly licks at the rotten soup. It’s a feral display. A blunt reminder of the pain and suffering that leaks through the incandescent glass walls of the glistening diamond mining district.

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Prince Kaybee - Charlotte 🇿🇦❤️

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For the Culture

This week’s blog is about the music, food and other cultural nik naks. Enjoy.

Music

Unlike Western Africa, SA music tends to be more of the House/Electronic genres. When the fateful day of departure comes, one song in particular will board the flight back to Heathrow with me. Prince Kaybee - Charlotte pumps through every radio station and DJ’s decks in Johannesburg. You’ll hear it in shops, bars and taxis. It’s everywhere. And rightly so. It’s a Summer anthem. Like a chilled out Disclosure track.

Another big track in Johannesburg is Black Motion - Imali. Step into any bar or club and chances are it won’t be long before you hear it’s hypnotic repetitive beauty.

When it’s time to dance, slap on Okmalumkoolkat - Gqi. See my instagram video where a kid demonstrates how to bust a move to this massive SA banger (www.instagram.com/p/BUJsMyBBSDy).

This next one’s a cheeky acoustic number. Play it now and I guarantee your mum will be like ‘who’s this?’. Thee Legacy - Wena Wedwa (Music Craftman Remix)

I can’t lie, I heard this one when I was drunk but its basically some mad house track with Nelson Mandela reeling off some killer quotes. Elite stuff. Euphonik - Domination

I don’t know if I like this or hate it. It enters your brain and gets stuck inside. Distruction Boyz - Shut Up & Groove (Broken Mix)

Food

I don’t think veganism exists here. I arrived in Johannesburg off the back of a ‘Meat Free March’ (March the month, I didn’t go on a protest). I ate loads of avocados, quinoa, cous cous, baked beans and satsumas. For the most part I felt good. Physically, mentally, ethically, broccoli.

In Joburg, the Butchers’ is crowded like the New York Stock Exchange. Herds of people, ironically shuffling in cattle formation as they barter over a pig’s foot or a mutton’s arse. There seems to be a preference for cheap cuts. In particular there is a popular market for cow heads. Almost daily I’ll see a filth ridden truck pull up curb-side to roughly unload a dozen heads into the butchers. Blood and flies everywhere.

I still don’t get how a chicken’s foot can be tasty. It can’t be dissimilar to tucking into a coat hanger covered in foreskin (see Primark sale rail for confirmation).

Cheap meat aside, I’ve eaten very well in South Africa. From pizzas to pap there’s always been enough to satisfy the hunger. Pap, by the way, is a white maize meal. It’s everywhere - Like a Maze of Maize. It gets served with Chakalaka, which is a spicy chutney.

One maize-based food item I have been less fortunate to try is ‘Zizu.’ These juvenile snacks are bizarrely branded with sketches of Zinidine Zidane. They are in essence stale cheese footballs. Bad enough to make you want to head butt an Italian centre half in the chest.

Culture

In the Johannesburg CBD, Zulu culture dominates. Afrikaans citizens primarily live in the surrounding districts, such as Sandton, Rosebank and Parkhurst. Zulu culture is one I continue to learn from every day. Some important greetings include: Sharp Sharp (all good), Unjani (How are you?) and Sanbonani (How are you again). Also, No inkinga (no problem).

Indigenous games form an important part of Zulu culture. Every week we visit playrooms where the children ‘let off steam’ by jumping into ball pools and hanging from my neck. In between these activities, their facilitator encourages them to indulge in various traditional games, such as ‘Diketo’, 'Three Tins’ and 'Elastic.’ As the kids here are generally 2-10 years old, they enjoy any activity presented to them with enthusiasm (I kept 6 children entertained with paper snowflakes for 30mins). It’s therefore positive to see a focus remains on upholding the traditions of Zulu culture through structured play.

I can’t mention the culture and stay silent on the taxis. Believe me, they want to be heard. “They think they own the streets” I’m repeatedly told. You hail one of the Toyota minivans with a simple index finger up (uptown) or down (downtown). Basic stuff. Get on board and the complexities of payment begins to emerge. Nobody seems to communicate where they want to go. There appears to be a fixed price for any ride (5 Rand a go) which is then paid to whoever happens to be sitting in the front passenger seat (who then has to sort out the change) - Additional voluntary work I am happy to avoid! Once you want to get out, shout at the driver and he will stop. Not in a lay-by. Just in the middle of the congested road. I personally prefer Uber.

Week 6

We celebrated the FA Cup Final win at Elevate rooftop bar. The views across the city were incredible.  The following day we fought our hangovers and went to a wine tasting event in Craighall - a more affluent suburb . A real change of atmosphere. Each wine was paired with the most delicious haute cuisine. We then stopped at Parkhurst for drinks at the Jolly Roger. Like a good old fashioned British pub, it had good beer on tap and a jukebox full of nostalgia. Unfortunately one of the punters insisted on spending 25 Rand on an hour’s worth of Abba and Neil Diamond.

This week we also began the preparations for our very own tournament. Instead of a standard tournament, we were inspired to create a competition that can be played in an urban environment. Grass pitches and open space is hard to come by in the city, so we have come up with 'The Arsenal Street Striker 2017’ - a competition that will test individuals in 5 unique challenges. Think car tyres, ladders and wheelie bins. July 7th can't come soon enough!

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Drill Hall

This week we heard the terrible news that 32-year-old skater and youth leader Kabelo Refilwe Makwa (known as KB) was murdered at Drill Hall. His death sent shockwaves through the Jozi skating community. A father, skater and mentor, KB gave children an opportunity to combat boredom and stay safe through skateboarding. His activities invited children to use the same playground we had been using to lead football sessions every Wednesday and Thursday.

KB passed away early on Saturday evening, after arriving at Drill Hall to work with vulnerable children, helping them to avoid trouble. Unfortunately trouble found him. Upon noticing a young man in the corner of the skatepark taking cocaine, KB confronted him, requesting he stopped due to the presence of children. He was viciously attacked. Tragically, the stab wounds to his chest and neck proved to be fatal.

Whilst KB’s legacy lives on, the tragic events of the 20th May 2017 remain deeply concerning. In an attempt to analyse the reasons behind such a deadly act, I was reminded of an interesting area of study. Can a trend of negative events in one location be attributed to psychogeography? Are certain places inherently bad? Or are other factors to blame, such as the deregulation of drugs, and sky high unemployment rates?

Introduction to Psychogeography

Psychogeography refers to the study of the influence of the geographical environment on the mind or on behaviour.

Revered psychogeographer Iain Sinclair states that buildings and structures withhold the capacity to produce invisible geometrical power lines. In his poem Lud Heat, he frames Hawksmoor’s St-George-in-the-East as a focal point for evil. He describes the church’s looming architecture as a forceful beacon for human cruelty. There is veracity to his argument, as the site bear witness to the bloody Ratcliffe Highway murder plot in 1811.

Sinclair’s work suggests that certain locations possess an unacknowledged magnetism. Is it possible that one place can attract danger, whilst a neighbouring site could draw the antithesis of the former? Is Paris the city of love due to a cultural development of art, music and literature? Or is there a psychogeographical explanation? Can this approach be applied to the danger zones of Johannesburg? Or is it simply government enforcement that has led to ghettoisation? My recent visits to Drill Hall got me thinking.

History of Drill Hall

The Hall was first built in 1904 as a military base. Prior to this, the same space was utilised as a native prison, but it eventually descended into ruins.

Upon refurbishment and redevelopment, Drill Hall became a significant location in South African heritage. In 1956, the Hall was selected to stage the Treason Trial, in which 156 anti-apartheid activists (Nelson Mandela included) were charged with treason. The initial stages of the trial took place in Drill Hall, but eventual security concerns forced the trials to be moved to Pretoria.

By the latter stages of the twentieth century, Drill Hall’s chaotic magnetism began to augment. In July 1987 an automatic driverless car, laden with explosives, was launched into the Hall. What was once a safe headquarters for the military was now an abandoned shell in disrepair. Squatters began to settle in the dilapidated grounds of the heritage site. It is estimated that 350 families lived without electricity, running water or basic sanitation facilities. In 2002, the entire site burnt to the ground. It is said that a woman committed arson during an argument with her husband. Four adults and two children died as a result of the blaze.

Following study of Drill Hall’s morbid history, it does not appear unjustifiable to understand the events in psychogeographical terms.

Drill Hall Today

Overlooked by art studio balconies and surrounded by pillars depicting the names of important figures in the Treason Trial, Drill Hall is a stones throw away from the booming soundsystems of the MTN taxi rank. It is a heritage site that nurtures artists and encourages community engagement with sports and activities. Smartly dressed schoolchildren flock to the open space every day; running, skating and playing football. Younger ones slide down skate ramps and halfpipes intermittently, nonchalantly dodging skateboards with rhythmic reflexes. There is a youthful energy and a stamp of African culture.

People Power

Undoubtedly, Johannesburg is a dangerous city. And Drill Hall certainly has a checkered past. From bombings and arson to brutal murder, it would be perfectly fair to consider psychogeographical explanations to understand these worrying trends. Perhaps there is a sinister unacknowledged magnetism. But even if this were to be true, there remains a positive social environment at Drill Hall. Children continue to rush in their hundreds after every school day. The grounds reverberate even days after a fatality. It is a site that admirably defies its circumstances.

Conclusions

In order to keep children and young people protected, it is crucial to promote safety measures at Drill Hall.

Currently, police presence is severely limited in the inner city. Private security firms occupy the streets, but dominate in the wealthier districts. To protect heritage sites and continue to promote sports and culture, the government must look to improve security funding in poorer areas. The rich have high walls, barbed wire fences and CCTV surrounding their homes. The poor are left in grave danger. The disparity between the socio-economic classes is crystal clear. Walk through the glitzy suburbs of Rosebank or Sandton and you will see twenty-five security cameras surround a six bedroom house. Poorer civilians are left choosing between twenty-five to life or six feet under.

REST IN PEACE K.B.❤️

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🇿🇦 Hillbrow

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Juxtapose

Juxtaposition ~ The fact of two things being seen or placed close together with contrasting effect.

Johannesburg is a developing city in the midst of a rebirth. White owned businesses fled the area in the 1990s. Since then, Joburg has steadily rebuilt, with residents settling from many cultural backgrounds. Mozambique, Zimbabwe, India and Pakistan are all strongly represented. As a result, there is a real sense of eclecticism in the inner city. Johannesburg is a melting pot with a Karma Sutra of juxtapositions. Rich live among poor; colourful street art borders a rough sleeper’s contaminated cotch spot. Juxtapositions can be found at every corner:

African timing vs Rush of city

I’m approaching one month in Johannesburg, so I may as well embrace “African timing.” I’ll be honest, waiting 45 minutes at a meeting point can be mildly irritating (immensely irritating when it means you’ll miss an Arsenal game). However, I’m starting to wonder whether it’s me that’s got it wrong. The UK is a very time pressured society. Lateness is punishable with a formal warning. Missing a train is considered enough to ruin an entire day. In SA it’s very different. Arrangements are loose and subject to sudden change without warning. Restauranteurs will casually set up their tables and chairs 2 hours after opening. Time suddenly seems more plentiful. Despite this laissez-faire attitude towards clocks, there remains an oddly coexisting ‘rush hour’ mentality. Between 4-6pm the roads hit gridlock. It is not uncommon to see a taxi brush past a pedestrian or mount a grass verge to overcome halted traffic.

Hospitality vs Crime

In my first few weeks in Johannesburg, a colleague passed onto me some precious wisdom: “people here will love you, but don’t forget we are hungry.” The honesty of his forewarning resonated with me instantly, but its validity took longer to assimilate. People do genuinely care. I sense the warmth as we converse. But the city remains a dangerous metropolis where concentration is crucial to ensure safety.

If you require a clearer example of a juxtaposition, look no further. The only instances of crime we have experienced so far have been in the two most unlikely of circumstances. Stolen football shirts at a kids football tournament and a stolen phone (not mine) at a Justin Bieber concert. Never trust a Belieber, I say.

Strength vs Insecurity

Strength and power are central to South African culture. From Nelson Mandela to the national rugby team, the nation is renowned for strong patriarchal figures. It was therefore a surprise to learn of a bizarre tradition that must be, at least in part, explained by male insecurity. Supposedly, there is a popular tree grown in South Africa that the local men proudly serenade. Their song is motivated by the belief that it enables the tree to grow and, in turn, aids penis growth. My understanding of the correlation between the horticultural karaoke and phallic extension is limited; my admiration for the innocence of the organic process as an alternative to the heavily marketed enlargement pills is absolute. Forget the ‘Long Walk to Freedom’ we want long willies!

Extra Reports

Amongst the juxtapositioning madness of this week, we also visited another JHC housing community - Phumalani. We began in the playroom, where the children calmly engaged in board games and arts and crafts. Today’s activity involved turning toilet roll tubes into flowers. I decided to join in with a board game known as ‘All About Football.’ Produced in 2006, the game focuses on the history of the English Premier League. After a few rounds of trivia, I began to question how many times some of the children had already played the game. Perhaps I’m being cynical, but I found it difficult to believe a 10 year old from downtown Johannesburg could accurately recall Peter Beardsley’s debut for Newcastle in 1983.

This week, we also visited some local bars. Without context, my description of South African beer would leave you thinking I’d spent the weekend in Amsterdam’s Red Light District: “Very cheap with a lot of head.” However, at 25-40 Rand a pint (that’s £1.50-£2.50), I’ll take the three dimensional froth that reaches out of the glass like a charmed snake!

Football Sessions:

Monday - Phumalani - After the board games, we went outside to do a short session with the children. The space was very limited, so we worked on some football fitness with relay style sprints. We then added a football to get them dribbling. They worked in teams so had a lot of fun cheering on their friends.

Tuesday - Cruyff Court - Cancelled this week due to an event held on the pitch.

Wednesday/Thursday - Child Welfare - On day one we worked with school children playing matches. We joined in and got sunburnt. On the second day we delivered a session for the U13s. We worked on retaining possession using: Rondos, ‘Through the Thirds’ and a fun possession game that incorporated accuracy by knocking down cones. We then played a mini tournament.

Friday - Uno Court - Due to the very limited pitch size, we played some small sided football games. We then tried out high jump, skipping and limbo and tested the latest Snapchat filters. Coach Will even showed off some of his magic tricks! Amidst the hyperactive chaos, one particular child glared quizzically at my iris. He informed me that I had blue eyes and must therefore be a cat

Meow.

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Week 3 in Johannesburg 🇿🇦

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Transitions

As I entered into my third week in Johannesburg, it marked a significant period of transition:

• First of all, we departed from the student accommodation and moved into our very own apartment.

• Secondly there were seasonal changes. The Jozi climate has made a visible shift towards Winter. The hail storms hit us hard - almost enough to halt some of our sessions (but not quite!).

• Finally, the programme itself. We have started to work with Child Welfare. We also hosted The Taffy Cup at Metro Park.

Having our own apartment has been a huge boost. For those that don’t know, our original accommodation was a student room, which was initially the residence of three housemates. By the time we left, it housed six adult men, with two beds crammed into the living area. Supposedly, this was a ‘demand from the University’. A monetary motive seems far more plausible. We’re now living on a nice street, in a quieter part of town. There’s a luxurious hotel and restaurant across the road and on the rooftop of our apartment block we have a relaxation area which features views across Johannesburg, a splash pool and a dozen gargantuan terracotta pots holding various tropical plants.

It’s great to finally have our own space to cook, wash and sleep. When we first arrived, there was a bit of stress due to it being unfurnished. Moving into an unfurnished flat is bit like having sex after a castration. You fit inside, but lack the required paraphernalia for an enjoyable experience.

It’s good now though. The perk of working with JHC is that they’re a housing company and the store rooms are full of useful furniture. We now have beds, chairs, a fridge, sofa, TV and a microwave. All the essentials.

The change in accommodation was coupled with a significant transition in climate. As the heat began to decrease, my layers increased and the Arsenal coat went on. The rain has been fierce too. Unfortunately, the heaviest of the rainfall was on the worst possible day.

The 13th May was a very important date in our calendar - The Taffy Cup. Named after the former JHC director, the annual knockout tournament invites U10, U12 and U15 teams from various JHC housing communities to compete against each other. Will and I worked within the technical tent, recording the results and compiling fixture lists. Our tent also provided momentary rest bite from the intervening hailstorms. Despite the weather, Landrost were a dominant force picking up two medals.

Ignoring the thunder, lightning and hail, all of the children kept their enthusiasm. It’s a trait that I’ve noticed throughout my time here so far. There is a real passion for football. Some will play barefooted on the harshest of surfaces. We enquire with fellow coaches if this is sensible, but our concerns are not usually shared. I’m constantly impressed with the level of size 5 ball control that is maintained without footwear.

They’ve learned to adapt. At another venue, we worked with schoolchildren who were playing in an (almost) empty car park. On one side there are skating ramps. On the other, there is a large concrete space to play football. Towards one penalty box there is a huge hole which is covered over with thin pieces of wood. Apparently there used to be an underground shooting range lurking beneath, but now the children shoot above it (luckily with footballs, not guns). It’s utilised as an obstacle. Attackers will deliberately stand by it, knowing they can’t be marked goal-side. Defenders will try to push attacking players towards it. Health and Safety practitioners you may now return from behind the sofa.

The majority of children that we work with are native Zulu speakers. They often understand basic English words and phrases, but find it difficult to comprehend Jurgen Klopp’s fundamentals of the gegenpress. Obviously I’m joking. We aim to keep sessions fun and simple. We always include demonstrations and try to use colours and numbers for clarity. The children we coach are also very high energy. Some will hang from your neck or demand a piggyback.

I think one of the most admirable aspects that I have noticed in the children is the sense of community. Older children support the younger ones. Fighting and ridicule doesn’t seem to occur and if a child cries, there is always a vast assortment of shoulders to cry on

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Super Sunday

It was Sunday. Sunday the 30th April. Super Sunday in fact. And not one of those awkwardly forced ‘inclusivity’ Super Sundays where Martin Tyler tries to amp up Burnley v Hull with screams of 'AND IT’S LIVE’. No. This was a proper one. The North London Derby. No matter how bad your season has been so far, there is always a flicker of hope left in a derby. The final hurrah.

The day began like any other. I woke to the sound of beeping taxis, arose from my child sized bed and tucked the 'fitted’ sheet back in, as it’s somehow ended up on the floor. I walked through my housemates bedroom to use the bathroom. I washed and changed with careful consideration, as I tried to shield my nudity from the clear bathroom window that overlooks the Johannesburg Central Business District.

As we got our things together, we made our way across the street, where we would wait to meet with our guide. At this point I’ll inform anyone intending to visit Johannesburg that zebra crossings are not really zebra crossings out here. I’ve come to the conclusion that they are merely decorative. Street art perhaps. “Let’s sit in the square” we agreed, as we sauntered towards the precinct with enough privately rehearsed authority to dispel any predatory loiterer’s instincts. We took our places on the steps, seducing the midday sun as if we had just finished chapter one of Fifty Shades of UV rays.

It was then my peripheral was alerted to the energetic entrance of some local children. What they would later perform was a bizarre combination of mental disturbance in a paradoxically impressive show. They began with an acrobatics display. From the high steps, a child no older than ten flipped backwards whilst simultaneously spinning sideways. I don’t know the technical term, but if you know football, visualise how Nani used to celebrate goals.

Whilst admiring the talented display, we couldn’t help but notice an older boy stood behind, slowly retracting a rock, which was held firmly in a pink plastic catapult. I was unsure what he was aiming at. As he released the weapon, it immediately became apparent. A pigeon on the ground began to flap, maybe for only a few seconds, before closing its eyes and silencing in a small cloud of feathers. Without hesitation, a small girl picked up the pigeon, as if it were a Beanie Baby and held it in her hands, passing it between friends. Whilst I was left shocked and confused, the boy aimed up, towards a lampost and somehow shot another one straight down. Within the space of 30 seconds he had killed two birds with his slingshot, without a flicker of self doubt or concern. As we decided to move to a different location, one child approached me and asked for 2Rand as a reward for the entertainment piece. The request was ignored, as I assumed they’d only use the coins as ammunition to catapult at other helpless animals.

If a little girl cradling dead pigeons sounds like an unfavourable starter to the day, Arsenal v Tottenham provided a detestable main course. We watched the game at News Café in Newtown. It was the first (and last) time I’ve watched Arsenal whilst a DJ played Whitney Houston at full volume. Despite this, it’s a great venue with an even better menu.

On that note, here are some of the restaurants/bars we’ve visited so far…

City Perk Café - Our breakfast stop. Full English, poached eggs, smoked salmon, avocado and halloumi toasted sandwiches. They got it all.

News Café - In the upmarket area of Newtown. Lots of natural light (I value this). Penchant for 90s R&B. Menu features about 20 different burgers, Mexican food and loads more.

Capello - Essentially spoons, but you get 50 waiters per table.

Nandos - Same as the UK, except 'mild' becomes 'Extra Hot.' Order with care.

Cramer Cafe - Ran out of food when we went in. A varied selection of chair heights.

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The Legend of Bra Pat

Bra Pat

Before detailing my latest week in Johannesburg, I’d like to introduce you to Bra Pat. He works for JHC (the organisation mentioned in my previous post) and acts as our mentor and guide during our stay in Johannesburg. Upon meeting him for the first time, he was careful to explain that it was ‘Bra - like brother, not like bra that holds a woman’s breasts.’ An important clarification. The ‘Pat’ part is short for Patrick, but pronounced with the ‘e’ vowel sound (a nuance of the SA accent).

Bra Pat has been a great help to us along the way. He provides knowledge of the local area and insight into the workings of JHC. 'I can be anything to you’ he told us. 'A brother, friend, father, uncle.’

Soon, I’ll present you with some of Bra Pat’s best bits, but first I’ll let you know more about our recent visits.

Cruyff Court

As a new addition to our programme we attended Cruyff Court, a football centre launched by the Cruyff Foundation (yes Johan) in the desolate area of Hillbrow. To give you some idea of the state Hillbrow is currently in, I’ll give you some blurb. Having once been a cosmopolitan area, it is now riddled with hijacked buildings and rough sleepers. On our way through the area, we saw a man soaking pieces of cardboard in a puddle. After enquiry with our taxi driver, we were informed that he was adding weight to the cardboard in order to increase its scrap value. It usually fetches 2Rand per Kilo (so about 12p). The same street corner also had women selling their bodies.

Cruyff Court is therefore a vital hub within the community. The space (which is soon to be renovated) offers children and young people a positive environment to be creative and have fun. The court is managed by Coach Bull (a well suited nickname), who is a former professional footballer. He is well organised and runs a tight ship, without being aggressive. In addition to coaching football techniques and practices, he mentors young men to be coaches, giving them the platform to grow, learn and educate each other. Everything in Cruyff Court operates in line with the '14 Rules of Johan Cruyff’ (image above). The children seem to know these off by heart, as when tested by Bull on 'what is rule 3?’ they responded in chorus with 'Respect.’ It is amazing to see that the impact of Cruyff’s legacy still lives on in a district that needs it most.

Bra Pat’s Best Bits

Now, whilst I’m on the subject of Cruyff Court, I will return to Bra Pat and some of his best bits:

• Sat with Coach Bull in the Cruyff Court office, we discussed our programme and plans for the coming months. He gave some motivational words and as he did so, Bra Pat tried to finish off one of his sentences. With the tone of the meeting highly positive, I assumed this particular sentence would continue in the same vain: 'If you don’t influence as a coach…’ Bull began. 'You are nothing’ Bra Pat intervened. I’m not sure that’s the direction Coach Bull was going but I admired the forcefulness of Bra Pat’s direct address.

• On another occasion we visited a restaurant with Bra Pat. He ordered the BBQ beef burger, but was encouraged by the waitress to up his order to 'Big Beef.’ “Why must I order Big Beef? I am big enough already sissy” he declared, whilst gesturing towards his stomach

• If Bra Pat hadn’t provided me with enough good humour already, his take on gastro-pub grub presentation pushed me over the edge. “This is how you serve burgers? On a plank? With a Zulu spear through it? Why are my chips in a bucket?” Let's hope he never meets Heston Blumenthal.

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Week 1 Photos

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Week 1 Diary

Flight

After 5 months of football coaching experience in London, we set off for a 3 month stay in Johannesburg. We departed Heathrow with Eithad, via Abu Dhabi (not to be confused with the injury plagued Arsenal legend Abou Diaby).

Abu Dhabi is commonly known as one of the most luxurious world destinations. We were therefore surprised to encounter what can only be described as the Arabian response to the truck driver’s pitstop. A ‘dirty spoon’ if you will. Perhaps my judgement was affected by jet lag, but ‘O'Leary’s Irish pub’ was certainly not built to be a luxury dining experience for the Persian oligarch clientele. As we perched on the seats, being careful to shift the tissues, empty pill packets and other dining dirt to the empty side of our table, we persisted to make our order. It was then we realised the nauseating prices on the menu. Rehydration was the main objective. £9 for a cup of tea and an Evian was the result.

Arrival

After a grand total of around 24hrs travel time (door-to-door) we arrived at Johannesburg airport at around 4:30pm local time. After meeting with Phumzile from JHC (the company we’d be working with) and our taxi driver, we stored our cellophane security wrapped suitcases in the boot and made our way to the accommodation.

Upon arrival, we were slightly concerned about the room we’d be staying in. A slim space between two single beds, boxed in a lightly furnished (term used loosely) square cell. Not quite home comforts, but it appeared to be safe and suited to what we needed. Our anxieties were quashed somewhat as we began to settle and inspect the rooms further.

We met with our housemate, Joshua from Nigeria. We could not have asked for a better companion to share our three month stay with (even though he’s a Chelsea fan).

With concerns as to how we could unpack our suitcases, we began to search for suitable areas to store our belongings. Opening doors, checking under beds. No real cupboards or shelving to be seen. We palmed away a rustic drape that covered a glass doorway in our bedroom. With natural inquisitiveness, we unlocked the door and ventured out to the platform ahead of it. Walking out further, we realised our luck. We had the rooftop room! Views across the Johannesburg skyline and the urban jungle nestled within it. It was a beautiful extension to our room - One that added open space for fresh air, sunlight and visual stimulation. A great spot for a sunbathe on our days off too!

JHC and Football Coaching

The purpose of our visit to Johannesburg (also known as Joburg or Jozi amongst locals) was to work with Johannesburg Housing Company (JHC) in a football coaching and community support role. In our first week, we have made initial visits to some of the buildings developed by JHC to house families from varying socio-economic backgrounds. Our visits comprise of life skills workshops in the onsite playrooms, in addition to football sessions where facilities allow it.

Our sessions so far have proved immensely popular with the children. With large numbers and some limits on equipment (we still have 9 footballs, more than I’d anticipated) we have adapted our activities to ensure everyone can enjoy themselves. Our most successful session to date took place in Umndeni - a location with a diverse community and a high proportion of Indian residents. In the 2 hours, we were able to focus on quick passing games, 1v1s and finishing. In our introductions we were informed that ‘fun and engagement’ must be the primary focus ahead of tactical development. Many of the children love football, but the sessions are more aimed towards keeping them working together in a positive, active environment. The life skills sessions therefore provide a beneficial supplement to these outdoor games.

Exploring South Africa

You’re jetting off to a new continent. It’s only natural to conduct the obligatory self imposed Google research project. ‘Is Johannesburg safe?’ ‘Do I need rabies jabs for Johannesburg?’ ‘Johannesburg crime statistics.’ After 10-15 clicks you have convinced yourself you will almost certainly be attacked by a rabid stray mongrel, whilst simultaneously surrendering to the wielded machetes of a Jozi street gang.

Based on my first week, I can safely say that my fears have been allayed and to an ever increasing degree. Yes, it is immensely different to London. Unidentified meats barbecued on the roadside; adverts for ‘same day abortion’ gift wrapping every pillar and post in the district. Penis enlargement promo is equally frequent (although I’m unsure if the 'same day’ service applies here). However, what matters most is the people you will encounter. There is a warmth to every welcome (and a complex handshake routine). People seem genuinely pleased to meet you and the sense of threat that featured so strongly in my online research does not appear anywhere near as prevalent.

During our first week, we have also been lucky enough to visit Soweto - a township with a rich culture and vibrant atmosphere. Here, we visited the homes of Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu. We also spent time at the Orlando Towers. What was initially intended to be a viewing experience turned into a full blown bungee jump. A blasé decision to plummet 100m off a bridge dangled from the beautifully decorated former power station. I would definitely recommend it to anyone. I’d even do it again!