Forgive my little digression from hard-core sports. Instead, enjoy this little story of a particular day in my life.
I am 10 years old.
I am with several of my age mates playing our daily evening football on the huge open field in front of the Magistrate Court and Police Station, off Sukuwa St, Jos.
Every day of our lives, children in neigbouring streets of Yandoka St, Turaki St, Pump St. and so on, congregate for a ritual, football games between the streets, or between Igbo and Hausa. The Yoruba will more often team up with the Igbo in the formation of the teams.
We all assemble on the field straight from school. To go home is to be saddled with chores that will prevent us from joining the early teams and getting an opportunity to play. So, it is a game of truancy – the more rascally you are at not going home after school, the more matches you get to play, and, of course, the more the beating you get from your angry parents.
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Source: Complete Sports
