ryan_stubbs OP
"17th May 1992, the day before my 13th birthday. For all the kids in my village it was the same as any other day. As I waved goodbye to my Mother and Father and made my way to school with my Brothers Timuu and Kofi, I had no idea that this would be the last time I saw them, Alive.
School had begun just like any normal day. First lesson was of the day was sport. Football to be exact. The greatest sport of all. Ok so we don’t have real goals with nets and we don’t always have a patch of grass to play on but we do have a football, isn’t that all that counts? To be a footballer was my dream. I had just scored a goal after beating two off my friends to the ball and beating the goalie. I went off to celebrate with my friend when all of a sudden, a gunshot was fired. The first gunshot was quickly followed by another and another. All panic broke loose, children running around screaming and shouting. My teacher, Mr Owenga went to see what had happened. Another gunshot was fired. Mr Owenga come running back shouting at us to run back to our homes were we would be safe. I picked up my bag and football and ran home as fast as I could. My house was about a 15 minute walk away from the school so it was a little way to travel. The streets were filled with panic and horror as gunshots were being fired one after another in quick concession. I finally made it home and what I saw next will forever live in my memory. My Mother, Father and Sister were lined up against the wall being shouted at by two strange men in masks. I could hear my father telling the men to leave but they just laughed at him. I had to try and do something but what, I was only a little 13 year old boy, and these were two men with guns. One of the men asked my Father “will you fight with the RUF” whilst pointing the gun at him. My father looked at my Mother and Sister and replied “no we won’t”. What followed will never leave my mind until the day I die. The two men looked at each other and laughed. They then started to fire their guns at my family. In a moment of madness, I ran at the two men screaming. Before I got to the men, a third man grabbed me from behind. He then put a scarf over my face which smelt funny. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a room with some of the other children from the village."
*wakes up sweating on the train!*
"Not another nightmare, am i every going to be able to shut my eyes without remembering the past? anyways, this train seems dead, where is everyone?"
The train had arrived at its final stop in the Senegalese capital, Dakar. This was the final stop on the long journey from Kolindu, Sierra Leone. It was the day of the FIFA Coaching Course and i had to now make my way to the venue this course is being held. My name is Samuel Samura and i am 30 years old. I hope to become a football manager within the next 4 or 5 years and one day manage my boyhood supported club, Barcelona. I currently work for a small football club in my home country of Sierra Leone, FC Kallon. It is because of them i find myself here today, i applied for the vacant coaching job at the club but was turned away because i did not have the required badges. I didn't no you had to have badges to coach a football team but never mind. The club decided to send me here to Senegal to complete my coaching badges and i thank them for that. Anyway, im standing here talking to myself, i should really make my way to the coaching venue now.
Finn's OP
I kicked the tattered football against the wall over and over again. My name is Carlos Quesada and I'm a thirteen year old Costa Rican. It was getting towards mid-night in San Jose, Costa Rica but I had nothing better to do than play football and pretend I was one of them. One of those stars who proudly pulls on the jersey of the mighty Mestalla every weekend. Some would say it was dangerous for a 13 year old kid to be out playing football in a dark alley in San Jose city at this time and they were probably right. Due to the poverty there was a high crime rate in our area but I didn't care, I would give my life to play football. To play play football for Valencia, the club of my dreams. Everyone my age in San Jose supported a team in La Liga but mostly it was Barcelona or Real Madrid. I came from a family of Barcelona supporters but then I always had to be different.
I kicked the ball against the wall again but this time scooping it up and doing thirty keepy-uppies. I then balanced the ball on my ankle, spun around and volleyed it towards the shabby goalposts at the other end of the alley. Straight in the top corner, I smiled. I was about to go retrieve the ball when I heard hushed whispers and footsteps behind me in the alley. I quietly slipped behind a bin in the corner of the alley. The voices came closer and my heart began racing. I chanced taking a look out from behind the bin and saw two men with guns creeping towards the turn in the alley which led towards my house. Guns! I nearly got sick and knowing there was nothing I could do. I sprinted towards the only place I knew that there was people that would help, my cousins house at the other side of the estate. I took the shortcuts that only I knew so well in this city and made it there in five minutes.
Everything was a blur for the next ten minutes as my uncle, my two cousins and I all sprinted for my house. My uncle was armed with a shotgun and my cousins both had kitchen knives. We arrived at the turn for my house as two figures emerged from the darkness. My uncle aimed and fired taking the first man down. My two cousins were on top of the other man holding him down before he could blink. My uncle and I quickly moved down the alley towards my house. My heart skipped a beat, the door had been smashed open.
I already knew what I was about to see and my mind went into a kind of daze. My father was lying in the middle of the kitchen with a hole in his chest and a kitchen knife in his hand. There was a man equally as dead lying on the floor next to him who my father had obviously killed as hist last act. My mother was lying on the floor in the entrance to the hall with a wire strung around her neck. I searched the house frantically, where was my brother? Where was Luis? I looked in his room, the window was open. Luis had escaped. I walked back down the stairs in a sorrowful daze, I couldn't think straight.
Suddenly I awoke from my daze to the sound of gunshots out in the alley. I saw my uncle sprint out the back door, shotgun in hand. I went back upstairs and looked out the window overlooking the alley. I wished I hadn't, I turned around and puked on the floor. My two cousins had been shot by a group of men who had just entered the alley and my uncle was being held up against the wall. They were about to kill him too, I had to do something but just as I turned away I heard the gunshots. My whole family was dead except for Luis, I began to sob. I heard footsteps in the alley approaching the house. I had to get out of here! I sprinted into Luis' room and leaped out the window just as I heard footsteps start up the stairs. I sprinted across the rooftop and......
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Flight from San Jose to Dakar
I woke up sweating, it was the same nightmare as always. The nightmare that I wished wasn't based on true events, the nightmare that kept repeating the massacre of my family. It took me a few moments to realise where I was. I was on the plane from San Jose to Dakar, Somalia where I was scheduled to do a FIFA Football coaching course. I've played football all my life starting when I was eight in Costa Rica and finishing four months ago in Los Angeles. I was only 26 and already I am being forced to retire from football due to injury.
My career as a Sunday Leaguer in Los Angeles had been going exceptionally well. I had played anywhere on the right hand side of the pitch since I moved here 8 years ago. I have been top scorer in the Los Angeles City League Premier for the last three seasons and LA Galaxy scouts are at all my games. One even approached me six months ago and told me that Galaxy would be willing to take me on trial and scheduled me a date. Two months later I got a broken leg in the LA City Cup final and that was the end of my playing career. I had given up all hope in life when the scout approached me and offered to set me up with a FIFA Coaching Course in Senegal. I at first thought he was winding me up but now here I am halfway across the world on the way to Senegal. According to the scout he believed I would be an excellent coach and even manager after seeing my team leading performances in the LA league. So I packed my things and took the train to San Jose as I couldn't fly out of LA due to being an illegal immigrant into the US.
'This is your captain speaking, we will be landing at Dakar International Airport in a few moments so please make sure you have fastened your seatbelts. Thank you for flying with CR Air.'
I reached down and fastened my seatbelt, then turned and looked out the window. I could see the beautiful outline of the West African coastline of Senegal far, far below me. I still couldn't really get to grips with the fact that I was here as the plane began to descend. Ten minutes later the plane was skidding along down the runway, twenty minutes later I was walking into the main terminal in Dakar International Airport. Now I've got to flag a taxi and head to wherever the **** this coaching course is being held....
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