Walking the Village: A Tribute to Football Superstar Mbappé
CAMEROON
As we sit teetering on our seats, sports fans (and bandwagoners too) are treated to some serious excitement atm. Whether it’s basketball, hockey or football, there’s lots of upsets, action and nail-biting overtimes. Not to mention that the FIFA Club World Cup kicks off tomorrow. This globalized tournament will let us see not only the rising stars, but also the icons we followed in Qatar, such as Inter Miami’s Lionel Messi or Kylian Mbappé at Real Madrid. During my visit to Cameroon, I ventured to where Mbappé has roots, the paternal village of Bonaberi, a sleepy rural outpost accessible by boat. Born in France, his first visit to Cameroon since his teenage years brought out many local fans - and let Mbappé give back.
Where do we say we’re from? Perhaps it’s as simple as where we live or what our passports show. Maybe it’s where we were once toddlers but now have only blurry bullet point memories. For me, it’s in the hereditary homes that hold lineage and life’s mores. Lands that are less logistically familiar yes, but somehow still pull at my core with certainty that this continent is encoded in my cells.
We arrived at the somewhat swanky hotel adjacent to this shack, which reminded me to cast aside schedules and to just be in flow: our baseline state that’s tightly linked to fate. It seems so readily on tap here, oozing and flowing (pun intended), whispering other ways which beckon us into being.
The hotel had been gearing up for an event, exaggerating the juxtaposition of the boats that we’d soon embark on. As I strolled across the property, Cameroon could almost be confused with Cuba or Canada … and was that the aim, I wondered.
When the boatman arrived, we piled in and soon, after wading through some mangroves, we docked at the nearby island. A local lad passing by wearing a construction vest decided he was going to be our tour guide and so, seeing no other signs of life, we followed. To apricate is both a word and action I adore, and here, with the sun ablaze, this seemed to be the most obvious (and only) ‘thing to do’.
Since there was no apt place to sunbathe here, our self-appointed tour guide proudly showcased the few sites: a watering hole, church and the bare clinic - a place the footballer family was apparently supporting to rebuild, and one day, staff. Actually, I hadn’t realized that Mbappé had roots in Bonaberi until I got here. Akin to a Truth that makes itself known in the moment we experience it.
As a doc who delivers babies too, I stared at the pink footholds for a long while. Like the popcorn machine at the movies, my mind’s screen flickered scenes from refugee camps, parking lots, various villages, bathtubs and western world hospital rooms where I’ve had the honour to welcome little souls into our planet. The local lad asked me if I’d consider moving here to help the women of the island birth in this maternity centre, “when it’s finished of course,” he said …
What locates and levies our loyalty? When and how do we solidify those ties, I thought as teams send out their starting line ups. Sports is a surefire way to cheerlead a side, to look into the victories and values that define the champion … and perhaps remind us of what’s shaped our own story too.
It was near the end of the ‘tour’, that I saw the tangible tribute to Mbappé. A small nearly unceremonial testimony to the renowned footballer. How vast is our world, that it can hold our roots deep, the rise to stardom wide and all the issues and inspiration in between with authenticity.
As we reached the other end, the villagers there paid little heed to us as we began to make our way back to the water’s edge. The simplicity of life was on display, without façade.
As we waited for the boatman to fetch us, harsh sounds boomed in the air and a dramatic scene unfolded, gesticulations and all. Most might turn away or scroll their phones; instead, my dear Doualan mate Fadi seized our boat ride back as an opportunity to dig into the details of the scruffle, as if they were part of her pack.
I watched with awe at how strangers shared what we may otherwise store secretly in ourselves or smoosh into our bodies with hopes of smothering stronger sentiments.
Closeting our confrontations has its advantages indeed, yet seeing the displays of deep emotions seems to offer moments where we can hold, honour, humanize and harmonize - together.
Going with the flow meant that when we returned back to Douala, we now inherited this couple, and their conundrum. Fadi was fully invested, as she often is, for the plight of her fellow folk. We passed through potholed roads till dusk turned to dark and in so doing, picked up pertinent details that further fused this family to Fadi. After all, she had their number and continued to call for days after to check in on them, to offer her counsel and camaraderie.
Walking through Bonaberi was like seeing the African proverb, ‘it takes village’ to raise a child’ in action. This wisdom reminds us of its use (and necessity) for toddlers to famous footballers - and hopefully, even for ourselves.
May we let ourselves be raised by our village and, where we can, be amongst the villagers that raise other superstars too,