Tinbit

Tinbit

       In Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, soccer is king. It is streamed on every TV screen, advertised on every billboard, and played by every child in the city. 

       Ethiopian soccer is not for the faint of heart. For the kids of Addis Ababa, most games are played in backstreets and alleyways, where broken cobblestone sends the ball bouncing in every direction except the one it should go. If they are lucky enough to find a local field unoccupied, any rainfall will lead to an outbreak of feet sinking into the mud with every step. Cleats are unheard of, and they play no matter how alarming a shade of blue their toes begin to take on. Fouling is an extremely common phenomenon faced with few repercussions. And although the city sits at an elevation of nearly 8,000 feet, huffing and puffing is unheard of. 

       For Tinbit, soccer is more than a passtime. Since he was old enough to walk, it has been his dream to be one of those players on the TV screens and billboards. He used to spend every waking moment playing, and when he couldn’t play, he dreamt about it. He would walk into school with a feeling of dread and spend the day drowning out lectures with visions of perfectly-placed goals and roaring crowds, waiting for the bell to tell him it was time to play again. Everything else was just a distraction from his purpose.Without even realizing it, he became ‘Tinbit the Soccer Player.’ There was no him if he wasn’t doing the thing he loved most of all. 

       But his dedication to soccer had its consequences. His grades dropped and dropped until they could hardly drop any further. Teachers passed him in the hallway with disapproving glances. They gave up trying to break him out of his daydreams and answering his questions at the end of class. He became just another lost cause for them to forget about in the back of the classroom. 

       Then a few years ago, his mom started getting sick. Suddenly, after school he was rushing back home to be with her. His soccer ball found itself left untouched in the corner while he spent his afternoons squeezed between his mother and sister on their tiny couch. Movies and popcorn and laughter took the place of passing and shouting and shooting. He didn’t have to perform to be part of his family. It was the first time in a long time he had ever been happy away from the soccer field. 

       But even with his newfound joy, he worried about his mom. She was still sick, and it wasn’t getting better with time. Usually, she cleaned houses during the week, but she couldn’t even stand for too long without getting dizzy. His dad picked up as many extra security guard shifts as he could get his hands on so that his mom could stay home, but that didn’t stop their plates from shrinking. At night, he heard his mom trying to stifle tears through the makeshift wall between his parents’ bed and the one he shared with his sister. 

       Then, one day his neighbor told them about the Adera Foundation. She told them that last year, she lost her job and had no way to care for her family. She went to the government office and the people at Adera found her. They helped her find a job, gave her a monthly supply of teff and oil, and gave her classes on how to look after her money. 

       “Now,” she said, “my family never goes hungry. I get to work to provide for them. My kids have a safe place to go to school, and I never worry that their future won’t be bright. I know that Adera can help in the same way it has helped me.”

       The very next morning, his dad left to search for Adera. He didn’t have to look very hard. Within a week, people from the Adera Foundation came to visit them. They found medicine for his mom and a better paying job for his dad. They even gave him a pair of real soccer cleats. 

      There was one more part of being an Adera family: education. One night, his mom sat him down and told him that Adera was going to put him in a better school.

       “No!” he cried. “I can’t leave my school. That’s where all my friends are!”

       She took his hand and patted it. “I know, Tinbit, but there will be friends at this school too, and it’s just down the road from your old one. At this school, the teachers care about you. They want you to love what you learn and to learn as much as you can. This school is going to make sure that you can do anything you want to do.”

      Tinbit sat and thought for a moment. “Do they have a soccer team at this school?” 

      Tinbit started at his new school the next week. He was shocked to discover that he didn’t want to daydream in class anymore. His teachers smiled at him and called him by name in the hallways. His favorite teacher was his math teacher, Mr. Amin. Mr. Amin was also the soccer coach, and Tinbit thought he was the greatest man he had ever met. In the classroom and on the field, it was impossible not to smile when Mr. Amin was talking. He had just the right balance between silly and serious that made every student love him. After their first test, Mr. Amin called Tinbit back.

      “Good job Tinbit! You have a real talent for math.” 

      Tinbit beamed. A teacher had never told him he was good at something before.

      Now, soccer still has pretty significant real estate in Tinbit’s mental space, but he is not just Tinbit the Soccer Player anymore. Now, he is Tinbit the Star Math Student, Tinbit the Kind Friend, Tinbit the Good Son. He is still determined to be up on the big screen one day playing the game he loves, and he knows that watching him will be a whole community of people who love him.