One of the things I REALLY hoped to do on the Race was some form of sports ministry…preferrably soccer. So when I learned that I'd be teaching soccer at a school for kids with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome the rest of the month, I was seriously SO excited! But It has turned out to be nothing like I could've imagined and one of the hardest things I've done all year.
Here's why…
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“This is what we have,” they said,
as they tossed a deflated miniature soccer ball
and a few orange cones into my hands.
“The field is just 5 minutes that way,
through the farm and around the corner.
Your first class of 2nd graders
comes to you in about 30 minutes…
good luck, coach!”
…in no time I realize that 5-minute walk is really more like 15 or 20
when you’re constantly having to hunt down the stragglers
and pull kids out from the vegetables and corn stalks.
But eventually, we make it to the “field”.
I’m exhausted.
With every step my feet sink deeper into the wet, muddy grass.
The smell from the dump in the corner of the field is nauseating.
My head is really starting to spin.
“Teacha, teacha…toilet! I need toilet…Teacha, ova there!”
I look around quickly for a place they can go.
But before I can even turn around again,
they’re all gathered over on the dump piles
with their pants pulled down to the ground,
squatting on top of all the trash.
The kids are knee deep in filth and it doesn’t phase them.
This is completely normal.
I have to turn away and blink hard and fast
to keep the tears from taking over my eyes.
Pull it together Leah…
The kids begin to huddle back around me,
pushing and shoving each other to the ground in the process.
“Stop it! Don’t touch her! No! Get in line!”
My words fade into thin air
as they yell over me speaking Afrikaans.
I start to feel powerless as things look out of control.
Deep breath…
After forcefully lining each kid up one by one,
we’re finally ready to start.
I set the ball down on the ground
and walk into the middle of the circle to explain the game.
Rookie mistake.
One of the boys sneaks in, grabs the ball, and takes off running.
Instantly the others attack him
and a fight for the ball breaks out.
There’s not a single kid left standing.
They’re all punching each other,
rolling around violently in the mud.
My organized circle of kids is now nothing but a distant memory.
With 10 minutes left in class
we’ve done absolutely nothing.
There’s a kid sitting in the goal crying,
one boy is banging his head into the ground,
a few girls are jumping off the dump pile into the mud,
and the rest of them are still chasing each other.
Scrounging up my last bit of patience,
I manage to get them all settled and divided in teams
for one last attempt at playing the game.
With the ball tucked safe in my arms,
I explain the game (again) and they start to play.
There are a few hopeful minutes of peace and sanity
before one boy accidentally trips another while playing defense.
The boy gets up and storms off, screaming.
I’ve never seen anything like it before.
He is yelling at the top of his lungs,
his whole body is shaking
as he slams his fists hard into the mud.
I give him a minute alone and then walk over to him.
Sinking my knees into the wet mud,
I kneel down at his level to calm him down.
But I can barely get close enough
before he fiercely grabs onto both of my arms.
He is so angry that it scares me
but I can’t let him know that.
I try speaking soft words to calm him down,
at the same time trying to slide my arms gently from his grip.
His anger escalates and he starts punching at me.
He hits me once in the chest
before he goes to swing again,
this time at my face.
I grab his arms and hold him tight against me.
Jesus help me…
I had 2 more classes that day
and I wish I could tell you they went better.
But they didn’t…
I went home that day in tears and calling it quits.
But then I heard their stories.
One of the kindergarten girls was raped 4 times by her dad.
Her mom is a drug addict.
One of the boys watched his dad get stabbed to death
so now he has extreme anger issues.
Another girl was found alone on the beach one day.
Her parents are nowhere to be found.
And these are just the kindergartners…
So many kids in this community have Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (FAS)
because their parents work on the farm.
And instead of getting paid normal wages,
they’re paid every night with a bottle of alcohol.
Ridiculous.
Because of this syndrome (FAS),
the kids have a combination of struggles in life.
They can’t learn in a normal school because
their mental capabilities are much lower.
Their attention span is approximately 5 minutes.
If you’re a white person you’re down to about 3.
They’re very aggressive and emotional
They live in the most extreme poverty you can imagine.
And most of them live in abusive, neglected homes
with no one to love or feed them.
This week was HARD for me.
And because of that I did not love these kids very well…at all.
But these kids don’t need one more person quitting on them.
They don’t need another voice yelling at them.
They don’t need my impatience or my frustration.
And they definitely don’t need my soccer class.
They need to be held not hit.
Loved not punished.
Praised not criticized.
Basically, they need ALOT more of Jesus. And alot LESS of me.
Week 2…here we go!
