A Friendly War - Chapter 5
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Back in my seat I begin to fan my neck I then notice two of my favourite players on the bench wearing dark sunglasses. Those around me started speculating. "Them just dey show off, na Apollo do them, conjuctivitis do them, on and on it went till the Mexican wave hit us, out of which came an unlikely story.
You see them say dat the foreign coach was unhappy at the way our boys were refusing to fall when their strong yams (leg muscles) were kicked in the penalty area. He reckoned we've lost out on at least four penalty kicks in our last six games. To correct this he decided to embark on a crash course in diving. And where better to learn than at an Ijaw waterside village where they built houses on stilts.
For two hours the players dived from the rooftops seemingly enjoying themselves by which time the coach was sure that any referee could easily be fooled by the now high standard of diving the players were exhibiting. Suddenly disaster struck. An under water oil pipe burst while some players had their eyes open in the water. Na wa! See di trouble this ye-ye coach has caused. What is wrong with Federal palace hotel or Ikoyi hotel swimming pools eh? If we loose this game there will be trouble for that coach o!
The game is now held up as the referee has diappeared.
To while away the time the Stadium Selector plays Felix Liberty 's Ngozi music. See show! See rockeez! Cheerleaders flooded the place and began to gyrate. Some players even joined in the dance. When we saw the referee running towards the centre circle and tucking in his shirt as he ran we knew our fun was over and we all booed. The rumour came saying the referee had been trapped behind a faulty lock in the toilet. The pretty cheerleaders received a standing ovation. They even received a presidential wave. Nice chap that president of ours. Not that I wish him bad or anything of the sort but I hope the countries' electric power problem continues.
Ah ah, so you judge me with you eyes eh? Don't you know my electric generator leasing business depends on power cuts? At this point in time I can't afford a drop in income. Can you?
The game goes on. For kicks my friend four seats away decided to switch on his black transistor radio set. Good heavens! Has that commentator lapsed on his medication or what? I can't believe it's the same match he is talking about. Chai ! Talk about exaggeration!
The ball is passed to our Afro-Disney player and before he could make contact with the ball the radioman shocked us all. "He beats one man, he beats two man, it is unbelievable. He beats three man ! He's in a dangerous position o! He will score o!" Yet all the player did was merely indulge in a spot of ye-ye rolling.
The poor fellows glued to their radio sets at home would be having palpitations by now. Serves them right for being too stingy to come to Liberty stadium to support the national team. The player in question who had now made his way into the box looked up at goal before unleashing a shot so off the mark the Ghanaian keeper didn't so much as move a single muscle. The ball however knocked out a nearby photographer.
The radio commentator was still on another planet. "He looks up. Will he? Yes he shoots! It's a goalllll! If football is art then we behold, Picasso! What a strike. Oh the panache of this player! What athleticism. Im mama born am well! Oh, sorry people at home that wasn't a goal. The Ghanaians have a goal kick".
If it wasn't for politeness, I would have smashed that black transistor to pieces. The radio set's owner had in fact had enough and switched it off. Peace at last.
The game soon began to induce boredom.
We passed Mexican Waves for amusement. Even the men of 'timber and calibre' in the presidential box stooped to our level and joined in. After all it was only a friendly and we led by a goal. The guy to my left who had tried so hard to be a Zeal Onyia on his trumpet since kick stopped playing and told me he thought the Ghanaians had fielded an extra two men for there appeared more "yellows" than "greens". We all counted and recounted, it was a false alarm. I grabbed his flask and unscrewed it like Sherlock Holmes. In his thermos was the answer to the two 'extra men'; Ogogoro Diploplia. The chap behind me now said he could see ghosts flying about both goalposts. 'Mirage. It's just an illusion', said an off duty physicist.
'Na lie. Mirage my foot. How are we sure people didn't fall to their deaths during the stadium's construction?' said another. While we were all arguing the Ghanaians scored. The place went silent. I felt for my pulse to convince myself that my heart hadn't stopped.
It was Ghanaba, the true born centre forward that did the damage. We couldn't talk. Our trumpets were flooded with tears. Shekere stood motionless and the talking drums (gan gan) had picked up sign language. Osibisa's sunshine day was blasted from the public address speakers as Ghanaba was lifted shoulder high by his teammates.
A new story spread through the stadium as to why Ghanaba was called the true born centre forward. A most unlikely story it was but here it goes.
On the day of his birth his mother was said to have had him on the Greenwich Meridian line in a maternity hospital in Tema. When the head appeared down the line the midwife was said to have commented that if Ghanaba grew up to be a footballer he would play centre forward. See my trouble eh! Now those words have come to hunt us for it was the head of Ghanaba on a cross from the right wing that has lead to this equaliser. Anyway, life goes on.
We didn't stay quiet for too long. The music resumed in full force as our team kicked off. We were inquisitive as to how the guy on the radio will take Ghanaian goal and were obliged by the radio's owner. The commentator no longer spoke in English but wailed in his native tongue as if in much distress. An Ibibio man stepped up to interpret. We all stopped playing our instruments for the interpreter was conveying not just words but actions with emotions. 'My uncle told me not to gamble. Who told me to play Kalokalo with my house and car? Nigerian strikers please score O! I beg O! Ghanaba don kill me O!' We all fell on each other laughing.
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