As Uche, my son, plays Soccer

• Uche, left, below, and his team mates.
  
  
  
  As my son, Uche,
  
  
• plays Soccer
  
  
  
  By Azubike Aliche
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When I was growing up, in rural Nigeria, decades ago, two words were prominent in our school lexicon. They were “4.30” and “Continuation.” The meanings for these words were rooted in local parlance, such that even parents understood what they meant. But not an outsider!
  “Continuation,” actually, means continuation classes; that is what will qualify for afterschool lessons or tutoring, today! And, “4.30” meant 4.30 p.m., the time for afterschool games or soccer practice, in the main. “Continuation” and “4.30,” virtually, took up all the evenings during the week days. You missed any of these at the risk of receiving corporal punishment the next school day. That was an era in which the dominant philosophy for teachers is “spare the rod and spoil the child!” Now, looking back, there’s no doubt in my mind that many of us owe, not just our physical fitness but the balanced development of our physical, emotional and mental wellbeing to “4.30” and “Continuation.”
  Regrettably, as I write this, both “Continuation” and “4.30” have become extinct, virtually! They have become victims of government take-over of schools. Both “continuation” and “4.30” were a heritage from the colonial government and the missionaries in Nigeria. They were made possible by a breed of teachers and other school officials who were devoted and were closely supervised by missionaries who owned the schools, up to 1970 or thereabout. “Continuation” and “4.30” survived government takeover of schools, though, but not for too long. Whatever was left of them was finally buried by a declining economy that has been in life support, since the early 1980s, in Nigeria.
  Today, teachers are fighting for survival, or chasing wealth, such that they have no time for “Continuation.” During the missionary era, teachers were made to believe that their reward was in heaven but today’s teachers can’t wait. With government takeover, supervision of teachers has gone down, just as funds necessary to provide sports equipment. Now, the cost of a soccer ball is so prohibitive that even local governments, charged with funding local schools, can’t afford them.
  So, as Uche, my four-year-old son, and his team mates chased the round leather object called soccer ball, many memories come surging on for me. In the last three months that I’ve had to take Uche to his practice and games, I’ve had to spare some thoughts for the African child. Even as soccer is the king of sports in Nigeria, and Africa, it would be hard to see kids that age, play soccer under the direction of a coach, and in a gymnasium! You, probably, can count the number of indoor sports facilities in Nigeria, using your fingers! We were happy, during our days, to play it in the pathways and earth roads or, in a more organized way, in our grassy school fields. Today, it’s a luxury for kids to even find the soccer ball to play with. And, this is sad and should not be! The African child deserves better!
  
  With like-minded people, we’ve founded the Power Education Foundation. The New Jersey incorporated 501(c)(3) public charity is dedicated to raising money and making grants for the all-round development of the African child. Please, visit our website at www.powereducationfoundation.com to see how you may contribute to this effort.
  
  Azubike Aliche