Football In The Namibian Desert.

While on a 2 weeklong road trip through the Namibian Desert in March of 2024. I did as most people in my position would and tried to stay out of the sun as much as possible. Harsh 35+ degree weather, without a cloud in the sky was something my sensitive skin had no business being exposed to. An experience likely similarly shared by a chicken roasting away in an oven (mind you an oven at least has a fan circulating air). The oppressive heat and scolding sun would keep most visitors safely tucked away indoors next to a fan or under some sort of shade as your next best option.

Considering the tropical paradise I have just described, you could imagine my surprise when we drove past near 100+ people gathered around a patch of sand, with painted white lines and goal posts on either side indicating a football pitch. Watching and supporting as 22 men went head-to-head in quite possibly the hottest place on earth at that moment in time. 1pm, sun directly overhead, sand hotter than molten lava but the game continued. With the crowd cheering as enthusiastically as they would be watching 2 Premier League giants go head-to-head. Unable to believe what I had just seen, we checked into our campsite, I grabbed my camera and trekked towards the football pitch we had just passed on our way in.

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Honestly, the +-500 meter walk nearly killed me. I planned 30 meters at a time, utilizing every bit of shade being cast down by surrounding trees or buildings. I couldn’t believe anyone would be brave enough to play football in this, let alone not die from dehydration before the half time whistle went. To my disappointment I got there too late, the game had ended, the pitch may have been empty, but the crowds remained. Why though? I managed to stop a group of guys walking past me to ask what was happening and who just played. Turns out it was a 2-day football tournament being hosted in Sesriem that takes place every year at this time. +-10 teams enter, each team represented is made up of staff members from the various Guest Lodges in the area, some traveling nearly 2 hours to get to Sesriem. Players would plan for this weeks in advance. They would put in leave days, swap their shifts around, playing their football games in the morning and afternoon, then rush back to the lodge to start their evening shifts. Only to finish their late shift and be back at the pitch the next morning for their remaining matches. This was an event nobody wanted to miss and would mark in their calendars months before. All for the glory of being crowned the best football team in Sesriem.

Football wasn’t the only sport being contested though. About 50 meters to the side of the pitch was a netball court, or more accurately described as: A flat patch of boiling hot sand, 2 netball hoops and white painted lines to provide the outline and markings of a traditional court. 6 teams had entered, also comprising of woman from surrounding lodges hoping to go home with the title of “Best Netball Team in Sesriem”.

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I cannot stress this enough, the conditions these people were playing in were brutal. The Sun itself feels as if it no further than a few kilometers from the Earth’s surface, searing your skin as soon as you step out into it. Heat attacks you from all sides, not helped by the sand that seems to radiate more heat from the ground up, attempting to burn any part of you that makes contact with it. Despite this, the sport went on from morning to night, the players seeming no more bothered by it than a duck in water. For some context, while watching the game I didn’t watch from the field. There wasn’t any shade there. Instead sitting on a log under a tree some 10 meters way. Only going pitch side 2 minutes at a time to snap some pictures before retreating back to my shaded sanctuary. After WATCHING 1 game I was exhausted, my mouth was bone dry, I had been slightly sunburnt and likely flirting with dehydration. How did these guys and girls do it? The netball wasn’t much better, for starters there wasn’t any shade to be found. So, I put my brave face on, managed to watch around 20 minutes before eerily feeling like a piece of crispy bacon. Finally, I packed up my camera and trudged back home, now most definitely sunburnt and covered in more sweat than I though was humanly possible. 

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Enough about me and my experience though, this was about the players and fans who came to Sesriem to take part and support this incredible spectacle. As you can see from the photos the location was beautiful, the vast expanse of dessert, the contrast of a picturesque mountainous backdrop providing a perfect scene for the football to unfold. There must have been well over 100 people pitch side by the time the next game was about to take place. Fans scattered along the touch line, singing, dancing and urging their teams on as they were out on the pitch warming up. Coaches gathering their players from their pre-match drills to deliver one last speech or moment of inspiration before the inevitable battle took place. The calm before the storm, as the 2 teams took in their final instructions before setting off to their marks. Everything poised for the spectacle of a 90-minute football match to take place.

With the referees call of “goal keepers are you ready” followed by 2 resounding thumbs up, the whistle sounds from the halfway line and the game begins. Fans are cheering, coaches shouting, players colliding with each other in hopes of winning the aerial duel. This is clearly no friendly game, fans expected victory, and the players demanded it of themselves and their teammates. The atmosphere was captivating, both teams fighting tooth and nail for every 50/50 challenge, trying to assert some form of dominance over their rival. Coaches are yelling instructions from the bench, fans singing their songs and jeering the opposition, reacting to every decision given in favour or against their team. This was a proper football game.

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The football itself was just as captivating, played with the unmistakable African flare that makes football on the continent so loved. Stepovers come standard, aerial tricks where possible and the much loved “showboating” used to wind up the opposition while simultaneously giving your fans something to revel in. The goal celebrations were just as fantastic, from dancing by the corner flag, to backflips and shoe shinning, this is what people came to see. The beautiful game. This game, this tournament was everything sport was meant to be. A competition between 2 teams, no care for where it was hosted, who they were or where they came from. 2 teams competing for the opportunity to walk away victorious over the other. With fans to support and join in the celebrations of their team or commiserate their team for a noble effort in defeat. 100+ people around a patch of sand with painted white lines, 2 goal posts and a football. I can honestly say this was one of my favourite sporting events I have ever attended.

The Netball itself was no less fiercely contested than the football.

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I have thought a lot about that day, looking past the heat and pure insanity of hosting a sporting tournament in the middle of one of the hottest months in the year. By the way, the reason it is hosted in March is because from January – March tourism dies down in Namibia. The reason being, it is too fucking hot for any sensible tourist to want to visit. The perfect time for members of the Hospitality Industry to get some “time off” during the slower months and enjoy something for themselves. I digress. What I came to realise was the sheer power and impact sport has on then human condition. A patch of molten sand, white lines and 2 goal posts is enough to bring 100s of people from all around the area together. Collectively putting in off days, shuffling around their shifts or working overtime in order to compete against each other in a sport that they love. Unperturbed by the conditions that in many places in the world would see people working outside sent home for fear of heatstroke. They soldiered on, playing with pride, passion and dedication.

In closing, sport truly knows no boundaries. It doesn’t discriminate, it cares not for your background, societal status, wealth or resources. Sport brings people together for the love of the game, sharing in victory and in defeat. Afterwards congratulating each other for a well contested battle. Surrounded by friends and family, who similarly travelled to lend their voice of support. Sport doesn’t require well-manicured playing surfaces and state of the art facilities. All it requires is a set of passionate and dedicated players and fans, with that you have all you need. You see this every single day from all around the world. Whether it be kids from Khayelitsha playing football next to the N2 towards Cape Town or makeshift cricket games being played in the back streets of India. Give people the space and means by which to play the sport they love, and it will be done. With as much passion and zeal as any aspiring professional hoping to make it to the top.

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In fact, sports greatest triumph is the rise of people who had no chance in life, who should have amounted to nothing more than a quiet life within their small village. If it had not been for a burning passion and desire to succeed within their given discipline. History is littered with these stories, from Makhizolo Mapimpi 2x Rugby World Champion, Francis Ngannou UFC Heavy Weight Champion, Ronaldinho a Brazilian Football World Cup Winner. Each of their stories would not exist had sport looked down upon them. Instead, they overcome the odds and followed their dreams where many had told them it would be impossible. Sport is the best of us, allowing an equal playing field to all, recognizing you based on your effort, skill and ability and nothing else. It cares not for your background, nationality, race or circumstance.

All of this sentimentality because I watched 1 game of football out in the Namibian Desert.