Also exciting, the Indomitable Lions were playing a Confederations cup game against Colombia that evening. It didn't matter that the game was inconsequential; a game is always big business for us so this was the perfect way to round out my stressful month.
Now for every Cameroonian, soccer is a religion. I mean, we would wife up soccer and take her home and have babies with her if we could. Every Cameroonian child rolls out of the womb with a little soccer ball tucked under their armpit I tell ya. So everyone was tuned in for the game as usual.
Occasionally at my boarding school, the administration would have mercy on us and pull out a TV so we could catch a game or a movie here and there. That night was tricky though because the majority of staff and students were already on summer break and so bringing out the TV was not really a priority. Luckily, my uncle was principal of the school and lived on campus so I invited myself to his home and chose a nice spot right in front of the chimney (Ndu is a hella cold place, let me tell you).
The truth is I do not remember much of that game. Don't get me wrong; it was an exciting and thrilling game (I mean, every soccer match with the Lions is). But every memory was quickly wiped out by what happened in the 2nd half to player #17, Marc Vivien Foe.
Now for my soccer-hating readers, here's how you watch a game: you look at the ball, you follow that muthaluvin' ball and nothing but the damn ball. You look at players' skill in passing that ball from one person to another, you look at their ability to steal that ball from their opponents and you look at their ability to get that ball in the netted box. Basically, if it's not the ball, touching the ball or pursuing the ball, you pay it no mind.
So when MVF dropped on the periphery of the field, few people were paying attention. I did notice, however, because at the time he was my favorite player on the team. His soccer was good but what I had always admired about him was his demeanor on the pitch. He played his heart out every single time and no matter how hard pressed he was, he always had this air of calm about him.
What made his fall curious was the fact that no one had pushed him. In fact, no players were close enough to have even tactfully tripped him as he walked by. Before long, the cameras panned in on him and every Cameroonian's voice got caught in their throat as we slowly became aware of the fact that his chest was not heaving up and down like it should. But we all thought "Oh it's just another fall, he's probably a little dehydrated. Someone give him a gatorade and send him along on his merry way". But he was not even stirring and writhing on the ground as he normally should if that was the case.
When the paramedics ran onto the pitch and began to slap his cheeks, the knots in my stomach turned to wrought iron chains. I knew something was terribly wrong. Every one knew something was dreadfully wrong. The camera man knew something was wrong and found himself unable to pan out as well.
A few minutes later, as the whole world watched Marc's pupils roll to the back of his head, we silently wished the camera tech would've have zoomed out and spared us the heartache.
The knots in my stomach quickly turned to a vast ache and to panic as his body flopped around listlessly on the stretcher as it was rushed off the pitch. I didn't know what was going on but I knew I could not watch the rest of the game.
By the end of the match, speculation was that MVF never awoke from his fall. When final confirmation did come in, the whole country was plunged into the deep and dark silence of shocking grief. The nation had just watched one of its favorite sons die while doing something we all lived for.
The sadness was palpable everywhere you went. It was all we could talk about for weeks on end.
I remember the state funeral. Broadcast on live TV. I awoke very early that day and completed all my chores because it wasn't something I wanted to miss. Seeing his young wife being ushered in and his children (6 years, 3 years and 2 months) sitting through the ceremony with little to no idea of what the heck was going on was just as painful as watching MVF fall. Those were very dark times indeed.
It has been 12 years to the day but I can feel everything I felt on that day even as I write this. Continue to rest in peace, Marc Vivien Foe and I hope the team and country continue to carry on your legacy of hardwork, dedication and outstanding character.
