Every four years, the world goes mad. Football mad, to be precise. From the furthest reaches of the globe, crowds flood towards a stadium to watch their heroes kick a ball around. From Peterborough to Paraguay, from New Zealand to Nigeria, TV screens are tuned to the big game. Nails are gnawed, fists are clenched, and hearts stand still during penalty shoot-outs. It’s all about that trophy. It’s all about the glory. Or is it?

The World Cup is a place where dreams are made or broken, where teams pull together or fall apart. And to the five children at the centre of Africa United, it’s the destination at the end of a journey that’s about far more than football. Though in many ways ordinary children with ordinary hopes and dreams, their lives have been marred by things that should not be ordinary at all – AIDS, war, poverty and sex slavery. Their journey across Africa is a search for something better, a search for the freedoms and the opportunities that every child should have.

We are so used to images of an Africa in crisis that the film’s perspective is thoroughly refreshing. Though not denying the problems that grip the continent, Africa United reminds us of the life, colour and hope that are equally a part of everyday reality there. In this story there are no passive victims or hand-wringing. Neither is there a western hero coming to the rescue. Instead, the children are brimming with potential, taking charge of their own future, and more than ready to grasp every opportunity with both hands.

Football-mad Dudu (Eriya Ndayambaje) is the larger-than-life driving force at the film’s centre. It is his boundless optimism which takes him, along with little sister Beatrice (Sanyu Joanita Kintu) and best friend Fabrice (Roger Nsengiyumva), on a 3000-mile journey across Africa. Where voices of caution tell Dudu that such a distance is insurmountable, he dismissively measures it on a map between thumb and forefinger. ‘Impossible is nothing,’ he says cheerfully.

Such an attitude could easily be dismissed as naïve. And sure enough, as the children run into difficulties, Fabrice loses faith in his friend. Dudu, he points out, knows very little of the world and has only led them this far through a mixture of improvisation and sheer good luck. When encountering life’s dreamers and visionaries, we can often share the same cynicism. We’ve learned to shore up our defences against disappointment by lowering our expectations. We expect nothing to work, and we expect nothing to change.

But in the film’s final chapter, our entire perspective on Dudu is altered. Far from being out of touch with reality, he perhaps has a better grasp on it than any of his friends. He alone truly recognises the significance of their destination: that reaching that world cup isn’t about ‘kicking a ball in the air’, but instead a symbolic defiance of all the tough odds that the world has stacked against them. He recognises, too, that though hope and redemption are within reach, they must be bought at a price. Dudu isn’t subject to a thoughtless whim at all. He has counted the cost, and knows what it will take for the team to succeed.

Too often, we mistake our worn cynicism for wisdom, and sit back with the rest of the world to let injustices take their course. Culture’s defeatism has seeped into our lives, and we have bought into the idea that we are too small and powerless to make a difference. We should take note of Dudu’s hopefulness despite the odds, and his willingness to make this hope a reality for others.

Having faith for change means not only hoping for transformation on a global scale, but also in our own lives and the lives of those we love. The Bible tells of a God who can achieve the apparently impossible using the unlikeliest means; who is capable of doing ‘infinitely more than we might ask or think’ (Ephesians 3:20). Perhaps, instead of looking at our circumstances with earthly eyes, we ought to be asking God what he could really do in our lives if we let him. He has paid the ultimate price to bring us real hope - with him on our side, impossible is nothing.



This article was first published on Damaris' Culturewatch website (www.culturewatch.org) - used with permission.
© Copyright Sophie Lister (2011)