BRASIL VS SWEDEN at ARSENAL STADIUM

Presonally?
Going to football matches is much much more than just seeing the game. It is the atmosphere, the people, the tension and release of tension. In a big match like the one i went to at Arsenal (Wed 26th March)with thousands and thousands of people you go through various emotions: fear (large crowds), trepidation (as though matching through a thick forest), anticipation (whether you support one team or the other); fun ( the music, the singing, the colours); space and volume. Here you can scream your guts out just like everyone else. Idiosyncracy is allowed like nowhere else. Maybe huge concerts are the same. But in music concerts you have to shut up, sometimes and listen to the music. In football there is nothing to listen. You are watching and shouting. Others are doing the same.
Mass ooooOOOOH and aaaaaAAAH!!!

Brasil against Sweden had it's sentimental magic. Of course everywhere else were friendlies. Friendlies before it gets hostile in September when the heats for the 2010 World Cup (in South Africa) begin, world wide. Officially, the match was a revisit; i.e. 50 years since these two very opposite nations met in the 1958 finals, with Pele (then only 17) scoring two of the 5-2 win. In homage the Brasilian team wore the same blue shirts that were won by the Pele-Garrincha team half a century ago. This seemed strange perhaps for those too young to know historic details.
Like it or not football (or "soccer" to Americans) is the most popular sport on earth, because... it is just popular.

Boys kicking the ball; everywhere you go on earth : streets, parties, gutters, beaches, you name it. Nowadays of course you have girls kicking balls, too. Check out this blog's archive around October 2007!!!
I love the atmosphere.
There is the clever and less clever.
Alot of idiocy which you don't feel while watching matches on television. Like Frederick Lundberg (Sweden) touching the ball and a section of the crowd going nuts.
"He is the one with the red shoes!"
Brasil's Robinho starts running with the ball and is mowed down. In my mind he hasn't done anything, technically he just ran with the ball!....
He did not score, didn't even manage to set up a goal, didn't even pass the ball.
But the crowd around me is going into a frenzy. That is how illogical it can get. IT IS FUN. Here are kids, old people, women, pretty and more than pretty, large and small families, euphoric youths carrying flags, painted in flags, wearing flags...flagging...

Press and Players part of the glitter and glory.

You walk as if you are in sleep, in deep waters, a tunnell, religious hall...
Then the mind slurs and slithers back to 1988.
Maracana stadium watching Brasil and Argentina. Me and a German guy called Herbert are just mesmerised by Diego Maradona. But we dare not say it loudly...no way.
We will get killed, for sure. He is the best player on the pitch, the artist, the dribbler ( recently only Zinedine Zidane has reached that zenith in my opinion); yet we dare not scream. That is how illogical it gets.
Mantra of this piece.
And what about the "Mexican Wave"?
This is the dance that joins us all here tonight.
ITS COMING....ITS COMING...you hear the kids saying. One ten year old girl is hardly interested in the match at all. She loves the wave, the Wave, here it is...foot stamping, foot stomping, shake your feet, shake them, HERE IT IS...up you get, WOOOW...and gone.


The chaps on horses are another interesting sight here; policing forests of flesh. I had to pose with them.

Yes, there is more than the One Nil Win which Brasil clinched that magical night at Arsenal. And it wasn't even in the mainstream papers the next day. Now you know why blogs are significant don't you? It is about such wonderful experiences.
Life.

Jazzmoss CD launch this Sunday : WINE AND MUSIC for all...

"If you love jazz then you will love Jazzmoss..."
So says the flyer of this Free Lunchtime Jazz gig, Sunday 14th October from 1-3pm at Charlton House , Charlton Road, Charlon village, London SE3...
I am told the concert is open to all ages and families.
I have been listening to Jazzmoss, a creation of two heads and souls: singer songwriter, Louisa Le Marchand and piano player Kaz Kasozi; backed by a Six piece band.
Art Theman on Sax, Henry Lowther on Trumpet and Flugal, Trevor Thomkins on Drums,Mix Amylo on Clarinet and Sax, Liran Donin on bass and Gill Swan, backing vocals.
More details contact Hazel Brown of Global Fusion Music and Arts, Tel. (+44) 208 858 9497 0r (+44) 7976 941 435.
Like one of my favourite tracks on the album "Soul Gypsy" says:
"As I see death in the eyes of a stranger
And life from the light of the sun..."
This is a balanced album combining well written lyrics and cleverly crafted music. Very rare balance these days.

Indifference to Ongoing Women World Cup In Beijing…

Another appropriate word is nonchalant.
As though it is not happening.
I always overhear women saying “I hate football”, “It is a men’s game!” or “I can’t stand those bands of blokes singing ugly songs, drinking beer, shouting and fighting.”
Fair enough. Football (soccer, in the USA), can be rough and recently some dreadful skirmishes were recorded at London’s King’s Cross station where 150 violent fans from the Arsenal –Tottenham match (the previous weekend) left a 38 year old man hospitalised. Daniel King, sports columnist with Mail on Sunday wrote “sorry to mention it but violence is back” in football. Such stories of course will continue to put women who dislike Pele’s beautiful game, off it.
This is, nevertheless, for me, the exception rather than the rule.

I have been to many football matches in various parts of the world (including Latin America and Europe) where soccer attendance consisted of many happy chanting families and children. It can be a special outing where you can really express yourself verbally. It is also a national cultural event whereby identity is the motive.
On Wednesday (tomorrow) the ongoing women’s world cup in Beijing China enters it’s semi-finals. I have been watching some of the matches and they have been excellent, magical. The standard of playing has been amazing, especially if you observe top class players from Norway, Germany, USA, Brazil and England. The model of playing contrary to those who think this is girlie football ( and I was one of them too) is as good as any man’s game. You cannot deny that Brazil’s mesmerising players Marta and Formiga and England’s Kelly Smith and captain Faye White are great entertainers and fantastic dribblers. The only thing that I found appalling was goalkeeping. So many goals conceded proved it to be the weakest link. Think of the Eleven goals netted against the Argentinean side by Germany during the early matches. Or Ghana being trounced by Australia, New Zealand by Brazil. Many goals, some of them pathetic at the keeper’s kitchen.
But that can be rectified as years go on. Otherwise, I thought the level of the game ( and I was watching one match with a lady who likes football, who agreed too) is really blossoming and the technique of goal control, team work, short and long passes, finishing touches, the goals; absolutely thrilling. Superb.
But what beats me, and this is the intention of this blog entry, is this. Why aren’t women bothered by the World Cup contest? Many times I have been puzzled by the lukewarm response, the surprise when I mentioned it.
“Did you see Marta last night?”
Who is Marta?
They don’t know Brazil’s top goal scorer (female FIFA's world best player)who has been dubbed Pele In A Skirt, or England’s Kelly Smith, the female Zinedine Zidane.
“You heard how Germany trounced Argentina eleven goals?”
What, where, which, when?
“You don’t know there is a Women’s World Cup going on in China?”
Shrug. Sigh. Pout. I don’t like football.
And then there is the media. Female columnists are not even mentioning the games. They are not commenting on the wonderful expertise and skills and beauty of their fellow female sports-ladies; they are not reacting. And the mainstream media itself is merely giving very little tiny brief reports of the matches. I am shocked by the lack of pictures, the absence of headlines. BBC television shows highlights of some of these matches in the dead of the night, usually midnight. Which is understandable because of the time zone difference ….(It was the same with the African Winners Cup in 2006)…However, if someone likes something they can video tape and watch it the next day.
Beats me.
And Then.
Why call football (soccer) a man’s game? Why football in particular? Why are all other sports (not excluding violent boxing), athletics, tennis and so on equally shared? What is the problem here? Yes. Many governments and countries have not put much in female soccer but that shouldn’t be the excuse if there are female football geniuses and stars and the games are entertaining and as good as any other championship ones. Kelly Smith herself said in an interview that when she was younger she used to be discouraged from playing by both females and males. Perhaps that is part of the answer.
And.
When we hear equal rights and emancipation what does it mean exactly?

Senegal Draw Ghana in London Friendly

Millwall Stadium, Tuesday 21 st August, 2007...
The African soccer friendly at the New Den, Millwall Stadium was an eye opener.

I have seen Ghana playing ( vs Nigeria last February where the Kwame Nkrumah grand-kids won 4-1). But Senegal was a different story. More than two thirds of the supporters were on Ghana's side so, green-red-yellow colours seemed to say "Black Stars rules." No wonder the first goal a minute before halftime was from the Black Stars, hosts of next year's Africa Cup. Everything was in Ghana's favour, the chants, the Kpanlogo drums, the fans, the aforesaid colours. A zealous supporter near me kept waving a huge flag, to the annoyance of a ten year old girl who complained but had to get used to football over-zealousness.

Stadiums are one of the few places where you can shout as loud as you can and express yourself.

"Our flags are almost similar. The only difference is the star in the middle for Ghana's," quipped another singing supporter.

By halftime it was drizzling...

No wonder players are paid large sums of money. We sat watching a wet El Hadji Diouf captaining his minority side (South London is second home to Ghanians and we all know the Senegalese are more at home in France); the Bolton Wanderers star's efforts were rewarded with a goal. It was around 72 minutes.

By that time Senegal was proving the tougher team not just by brilliant football, passing and tactical playing, by fouling, too. Michael Essien (Chelsea's top mifielder) was kicked in so many instances, he had to wobble out four minutes later. He was in my opinion, the man of the match, an intelligent player who like Diouf was both star and captain.

This was a beautiful and entertaining game and the Gods were on the side of it's theme which was friendship. Sometimes the goodnatured Ghanian fans cheered lovely playing of the Senegalese. No wonder it ended in a terse but deserved, 1-1 draw.

Walking home I reflected on the stakes. Senegal leading Group 7 of the Africa heats, followed by Tanzania, which they drew (1-1) last June and beat the East African Taifa Stars, 4-0, in March.

Taifa Stars are upcoming what with the positive guidance of Brazilian coach Marcio Maximo...but watching the Lions of Teranga giving Ghana a hard time ( a Ghana that saw the World Cup a year ago) made me think : Taifa Stars, look- out!

I meditated on the high fee of 28 pounds, plus two more pounds service charge, by Ticketmaster, the company that sells tickets. I dwelt on the fact that one could not buy these entrance papers in London's African shops, like during the Nigeria match in February. It is always about money...

I sipped beers with two German agents; they said they were from Hamburg, looking for new boys. African players are at the moment part of "a fair catch", both for rich clubs and their own destinies. Gone are the days when African football was something you equated with nonchalant animals at tourist game parks ...something in the bush... This is the era of millionaire Drogbas and Samuel Eto'os... globalisation global globalisation.
Was thirty pounds a head worth it?

It wasn't a bad night counting that we matched through the riveting, spooky, dark industrial Millwall streets thinking, this area has a history of racism and such stuff. The sight of police and security everywhere was assuring. People of all ages with families were here : old, young, male, female...

Of course the colurful spectacle wasn't shown on mainstream television. Not many people let alone Africans in London knew about it.

But for those present, one word, shone. Pleasure. Entertainment.

Fun and sports maketh the day...

African Soccer Magazine journalist, Ebenezer, who was at the match publicising the new paper which focuses solely on African soccer. Check out

http://www.africansoccer.co.uk/

With Senegalese fans. This was a few minutes before the friendly game. Culture and sports always brings people together.

Ghanian fans chant "Essien!" "Essien!" for TV pundits prior to the competition.

Publicist and photo-journalist, CNN (Charles Nimmo N-Mensah) of http://www.ghanaweb.com/. Was there too. A man proud and comfortable with his job.

This Weekend's Profile

Meet Musician Kawele “Fingerprinter” Mutimanwa

Bad leadership and corruption in Africa has created unrest, poverty and refugees.
Take Congo.
In early 1961, one of the most dynamic leaders that have ever come from this beleaguered continent, Patrice Lumumba, was killed at a prime age of 36. Congo had become independent the year before and Lumumba was democratically elected Prime Minister. But no sooner was Congo free from the Belgians than Lumumba started speaking a language of a new born baby, a free person. Those were the days of the Cold War and soon the young chief was branded a “communist.” CIA used a soldier called Joseph Mobutu to get rid of his own country man to preserve business interests.span class="fullpost">.
Lumumba and a few of his cabinet members were beaten up, bundled inside sinister lorries like frightened cows, frog-matched to the bushes and shot. After murdering them the culprits erased the bodies with sulphuric acid. In a 2002 interview, London’s New African magazine, one of the Belgian soldiers who took part confessed to have kept Lumumba’s wedding ring as memento. A review of the 2001 Lumumba murder film described it as “unsettling and horrific.”
Lumumba is one. But it all began when King Leopold of Belgium used the country for his own source of personal wealth after the scramble for Africa began in 1884. Since those times, Congolese people, under the corrupt govern ship of Colonel Mobutu (1965 onwards) have become displaced and homeless Zairians. The rich country has been turned into a battle ground for more than five countries. Congo-Zaire is one of the most wealthy nations in the world with minerals and the huge fertile Congo forest. To give you an example take your mobile phone. The micro chip inside the phone is a resistant mineral originating from Coltan (columbium and tantalite); 80% of this resource comes from Africa and according to the World Rainforest Movement in Uruguay, 80% of that comes from Congo Zaire. Best this richness has done is to buy guns and create bloodshed. The African American musician and writer, Gil Scott Heron told me an interview, in April 1999: “The reason that we can’t have peace is because you cannot make money with peace.”
Even though Mobutu died of prostate cancer in 1997, Zairians have tumbled into despair and globe trotting. I was chatting to one Zairean national the other day and he confessed he has taken a European passport for himself and his family because “I see no hope of ever returning home.”
One of the only consolation for these forsaken people has become music. Zairean music, Congolese dance music, Soukous, Ndombolo is amongst the highly dominant of African popular dance forms. It sits high alongside “Mbaqanga” (South Africa), “High Life” and “Afro-beat” (West Africa).
…And that’s where he comes in.
Fingerprinter.
The diminutive derives from his skill on the electric guitar. He has been on the move for two thirds of his life.
Having settled in London since mid 1990’s as a refugee, Kawele Mutimanwa was born in Bukavu in 1957. He belongs to the Warega tribe of East Congo. The music bug caught him early; he did not even finish secondary school in 1972. From then, he was married to the guitar. “All I did,” Kawele recalls sipping his Stella beer, “is going to places where music was, watching and listening to the guitar players.”
Kawele has played with almost every single name on the Congolese Soukous music scene, plus a host of African and non-African musicians.
As a result of the said displaced background, music has taken him far. He has lived and gigged in Rwanda, Burundi, Zambia, Tanzania, Kenya, Uganda, many parts of Europe, USA and Australia.
I have personally worked with Kawele and still share the stage with him from time to time. It is always a pleasure working with this humble, down to earth guy. He is unselfish in the true sense of the word. Despite being a highly competent musician (besides guitar he is competent saxophonist, sings and arranges) he allows everyone else to share in the playing and never takes over like some egoistic artists of his magnificent stature, would. His house in East London is always packed with men, women, children. Everyone who has been around Kawele will tell you he is one of those rare individuals whose vocabulary excludes the word, no. He is always helping somebody. A man with a heart of the Congolese gold.
Check a list of some of the stars the skilled guitarist has worked with...
Kanda Bongo Man, Sam Mangwana, Remmy Ongala, King Kiki, Ndala Kasheba, Mzee Makassy, Samba Mapangala.
And bands.
Arusha International, Tankat Almasi, Safari Sound, Kurugenzi Arusha (Tanzania) Banangenge, Bana Lienza, Mule Mover (Zambia), Kyauri Voice, Toma Toma, Kitoto Band…
Songwriters.
Lady JD, Ray C (Tanzanian hip-hop singers) King Masco(Sierra Leone) Abdul T Jay (Sierra Leone) Koko Kanyinda (Congo) Kaz Kasozi (Uganda), Jennifer Lawala (Uganda)….
Surprisingly despite all this thirty year plus musical experience, when I tapped Kawele on Google the other day nothing came up. The long, unending but unsuccessful career of such a talented soul has much to say about African music. Kawele himself explains.
“English is the language of pop music. We sing in African languages and that is difficult with this powerful industry.”
Throughout this tough odyssey he has led his own groups as well. In London was first No Tchuna Cha (1995-1999) while today is Afrika Jambo. It was with No Tchuna Cha where his nickname Finger Printer arose. They recorded, Alama za Vidole, in 1999.

See their photo taken during the early days.

London Folk Roots magazine said the CD “Has class. Authentic sweet harmonies, chiming guitars…”
You may catch Kawele and his Afrika Jambo band at Club Afrique every Sunday. More info about the club log on:
www.clubafriq.com.