Senegal 5: The football

Ben the medical student had been talking up the prospect of seeing Senegal play Burkina Faso in Dakar, the capital. It was a crucial match in the African Cup, with the winner advancing to the knockout round of the tournament. We had been assured that it was unlikely to be a sellout, as the stadium seated 80,000. It should be noted that these assurances were made after Ben failed to get tickets in the week leading up to the game.

After an eventful two-hour trip from Thies, we met up with Ben and his friend Jean-Claude, who had bought our tickets earlier that day, and casually made our way to the ground, arriving 30 minutes before kickoff.

The queue to get in was ridiculously long. It extended around the corner of the perimeter wall and beyond the limits of vision at both ends. Cars were gridlocked, attempting to get in. It was soon discovered that the queue was for people with tickets like ours. It was also not moving. As the cars began to inch forward, desperation provoked Jean-Claude to ask several drivers if we could be smuggled in. We also tried to walk up to the front of the queue, only to be confronted by a scary bug-eyed gendarme who threatened Vicky with his large tree branch before using it with excessive force on an unfortunate man’s face.

Moments before scheduled commencement.

We dejectedly commenced queueing ten minutes before kickoff. We had not moved ten metres when we heard the roar of the game beginning. Shortly thereafter the queue began to pick up speed, slowly, then at a walk, then dissolving as all ticketholders began to run towards the gates. Gendarmes furiously tried to rip everyone’s tickets. I was confronted by a gendarme demanding a bag search, and had to fling my borrowed umbrella (a potential weapon) into an ominous-looking pile.

Once inside, we realised it was already 1-0, 20 minutes in. We found seats (concrete steps) behind the Senegalese goal. The stadium was near full. Not long after our arrival, the underdogs Burkina equalised on a beautiful curving free kick. 80,000 Senegalese groaned simultaneously as a small band of Burkinabes danced and cheered.

Burkina equalises.

Senegal’s first half was dismal, passing poorly and fluffing several easy chances. The crowd grew restless, booing and shouting abuse. At the half-time whistle, the home team left to a chorus of jeers and shaking fists. Jean-Claude reminded us of the last Senegal international match he had attended, which ended in a riot and stadium lockdown for 6 hours for all spectators. We decided we would leave early.

Senegal were a changed team in the second half, playing with more class and attack. Finally they took the lead on a goalmouth scrap and the stadium erupted with joyous relief as strangers hugged and young men took off T-shirts and waved them. Five minutes later they scored again, prompting more mad celebrations, including stadium-wide beating of both drums and the odd Burkina fan.

The crowd goes wild/naked!

Ten minutes from the end we made our move. As we left via the main gate outside, a huge cheer signaled the fourth goal, and the first wave of like-minded spectators emerged from the gates, desperate to avoid what would be a massive traffic jam. We ran to the road leading into the stadium (miraculously collecting the umbrella on the way) and hailed a taxi that had illegally entered. As a gendarme approached, blowing his whistle, the five of us piled in (also illegally) and sped away.

The driver was listening to the game on the maximum volume his stereo would allow. Clearly the game meant a lot to him. As we hooned through the streets of Dakar, he would shout at passers-by: “4-1! 4-1!” and wave jubilantly. Moments later, Senegal posted their fifth, sending him into rapture and ever-increasing speed. He was now beeping the horn nearly continuously and flashing everyone in his path, overtaking all vehicles and flying over speed humps. We caught the excitement and began waving at all pedestrians and other cars. The game had ended and the news had clearly spread; everyone responded with victorious hoots and comical dancing, or reciprocal honking, or the now-ubiquitous cry of “5-1! 5-1!”