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Previous Chronicle - Zag learns from Koah Koah that he can only trust Yamika.
Oh great. You’re awake!
Yamika burst in. He was wearing his blue soccer jersey and a smile that threatened to break into an exuberant song at any moment. He looked much older close-up. His face had the tight appearance of a well-traveled sailor, who’d experience many windstorms, and seen much of the world. His teeth sparkled healthy white when he smiled his big smile.
There was exuberant singing behind him and throughout the building. It sounded like the dance festival back home in Namanga, only louder. Their unrehearsed blend of call and response chanting bounded off the metal roof and back into the building creating a pulsating effect of harmony followed by cacophony, followed by harmony. People made impromptu drums by striking their bedframes and locker doors with sticks.
Zag could tell that the Blue team had won because he didn’t see any people in red here.
We won! Blue House - four, Red House three! It was close! I am the player-coach for Blue House and this was our first win of the season, so I’m definitely going to win Coach of the Week at School Convocation! It’s going to be noisy today. Be warned. said Yamika.
He approached one of the two lockers mounted on the wall and put a key in a lock on the right side one. He left the key in the lock without opening it, and turned back to Zag.
Did you get your keys? He asked.
No, I didn’t, said Zag. My Father used to play soccer. He told me many stories about it. But he never played with me and my friends when he saw us playing.
Good to know, said Yamika. And very quickly said. Let me show you around.
Ok, said Zag. He wanted to know more about Yamika. He liked him, but he didn’t know what to talk about. He wondered if Yamika didn’t want to talk about soccer, or didn’t want to talk about fathers.
This is your locker. Yamika said, pointing to the left-side locker. It had “15A” painted on the top right of the locker. The other locker said “15B”.
Yamika explained: This is room 15, in Blue House. You and I will share this room. I am your mentor and since I am responsible for how many Behavior Points you and I score, I recommend that you do everything that I say.
First rule. My things are my things. Second rule. You should never touch my things. Third rule. You will get your own things when you get the key to your locker. Mr Nko will bring it.
Zag remembered Mr. Nko and the picture in the upstairs room and asked: Is Mr. Nko your Father?
Yes he is, said Yamika. You’re smart huh? But I am not allowed to call him Father here. Only when we have Home Break.
Ok. said Zag. He smiled, pleased with himself for having figured out that Yamika was Mr Nko’s son.
Fourth rule. Yamika said. Never . lose . your . key . Never.
By the way, what is your Power? Yamika said.
My power? Zag asked
Yes, your power! Something that you can do better than everyone else without really trying hard. What is your Power? Yamika said.
I don’t know, said Zag.
You don’t know your Power? Everyone here has a Power. What do you mean you don’t know your Power? No-one gets here by fluke! It’s hard to get here and you can't be here if you don’t know your Power!
Oh… said Zag.
Listen, Zig, sorry Zag. We all have Powers. Gonja is the best future-teller in the country, he gives more accurate predictions than any seer. He predicted that we would win 4-3 today, and we did. Petro has superhuman strength. He can lift a car with his bare hands when he gets into a trance. It doesn’t happen very often, but he’s here to learn how to make it happen more often.
Nyali can smell as good as a lion. They used to take him hunting when he was a baby. Now he’s learning to detect metal in the ground for mining companies using his smell.
And me, Yamika the Third. My Power is being able to understand animals. I can hear what they are saying most times. Ants, dogs, hyenas, you name it. Trees sometimes, but they’re harder. That’s why I am a soccer coach. If you can understand animals, you can understand humans. I’m here to sharpen that skill. That’s why Mr Ndambo calls on me often during Convocation. That’s why I am here, but my brother is not. He doesn’t have any Power, so he goes to a normal school. I get to come to the Nishina Institution the best school in the nation, but also the toughest. So to be here, you have to have a Power! What is it?
Yamika was speaking loudly now. His voice carried through the building. Zag noticed that the singing and shouting in the building had stopped quite abruptly. Yamika was carried away by making his point and didn’t seem to have noticed the change.
Only Powerful people come to Nishina. Who are you? Why are you here? Yamika asked, his voice crackling, partly from the shouting during and after soccer, and partly from his disbelief. His sailor face scrunched into a little ball of curiosity as he looked at Zag from different angles.
Go easy on the boy! He’s just arrived! A voice said from the corridor. It was a voice Zag recognized. It pierced like a fiery arrow through the winter air and was quickly followed by footsteps which approached their room.
Yamika swung around to see who it was and immediately went from lawyer-in-full-assault mode to soldier-standing-at-attention mode. He dropped his eyes to avoid making eye contact with their guest.
Zag noticed this and felt a rush of cold air run up his spine.
In the quietness that now covered the building, Zag noticed that the overpowering smelled of human sweat, no doubt from the soccer game that just happened.
We have decided to take a chance on him because know what he is capable of and very few people have that ability, said the guest.
It was Mr Ndambo.
And you, Yamika, have to make sure that we succeed, he said.
He turned to Zag and said, I came to personally welcome you and to bring your keys. Normally Mr Nko would do this, but I wanted to personally make sure you are settling in well. I have given you the best mentor that we have here, and I am sure Yamika will do a great job of making sure you are ready for the work ahead. Right Yamika?
Yes, sir! said Yamika, still standing at attention.
Good, said Mr Ndambo. Make sure he gets a tour of the Institution today. We won’t have time during the week.
Yes, sir! said Yamika.
By the way congratulations to your team! It was tough match, especially with the way Jere and Banda on the Red team played.
Yamika seemed surprised that Mr Ndambo knew details about the game.
Was he there? he thought
Thank you, sir, he said.
In my younger days I used to play soccer too. I was a goalkeeper. Can I tell you a little story? I think it’s relevant, especially for you Yamika.
He sat down on the edge of Yamika’s bed. Both boys were still standing.
Sit down, he said. They sat down on Zag’s bed opposite him. Zag noticed that Yamika was touching his bed, but decided that now didn’t sem like the time to say anything.
We used to play mixed-age tournaments, where you had to have a mixture of ages all the way from 6-19. Each team had to have at least three players who were younger than ten years old. It was our way of toughening them up for the future. But it didn’t always work that way.
In this particular game, we went to penalties and after everyone had kicked except this young boy, the score was tied. If he scored, they won the game. If he didn’t we would have to toss a coin.
It was quite unfair, to be honest. It was me - I must have been about 18 at the time, against a child - he couldn't be more than six or seven years old. He could kick the ball strongly enough, but I doubt he could place it. Anyway, our rule was that you couldn’t repeat penalty-takers, so it had to be him.
So here I was, huge goalkeeper in the goal, against a tiny boy wearing a white jersey tucked into black shorts, and barefoot. We always played barefoot, not like today. He was to take the penalty. I was to decide what to do about it.
You see boys, playing as a goalkeeper comes with many dilemmas.
Take this one. It is a well-known statistical "fact" that the best way to save a penalty is not to dive one way or the other, but to stay right there in the middle. In normal gameplay a 1:1 situation between a striker and goalkeeper is stacked against the goalkeeper. In a penalty situation, the goalkeeper's odds are even worse because they are not allowed to move off their line to make themselves bigger. The striker has the whole goal to aim at, and the goalkeeper's best chance at saving the penalty is to guess the direction and dive just before the striker kicks the ball. Otherwise they stand no chance.
It gets a little more complex, though. Statistics say you should not dive but stay right there in the middle. The way a dog stands right there barking if sees is an intruder. No moving. Or the way a tree in the middle of the village stays rooted while everything around it changes. This is the best strategy and it works.
Statistically, if you do that, you'll save more than you will miss. However, also statistically, you're less likely not to be playing the next game if the other team scored. At least if you dived, you'd not be accused of not applying yourself, or, worse, not caring.
He laughed to himself and continued.
So most goalkeepers continue to dive. They choose to increase the chances of losing the current game, but at the same time increase the chances they will be chosen to play the next game. Good goalkeepers know to dive. They sacrifice the team's long term interest for their personal long term interest.
Does this make sense?
Yes sir, said Yamika. Zag nodded and smiled because the moment called for a nod and a smile.
Playing as a goalkeeper in a mixed game of adults and children is uniquely different. I had other considerations: Do I save it? Do I not? Do I dive, so that I increase the chances of not saving it but look like I was trying to save it? Or do I not dive and increase the chances of saving it? Do I care more about winning this game than the bigger game of the child's image of themselves?
Goalkeeping should not be a hard calculus problem, with generous amounts of probability thrown in... but I'm also a parent and I knew I was in full control of the outcome. There was more at stake for the child than for me.
So here I was needing to do some calculus. If you ever need to call on it, I already did the math. You can use my formula. Here it is:
He paused to see if they were still following. Yamika was following ev-ery syl-lab-le. Zag was tired but wanted to hear the formula anyway.
Mr Ndambo continued.
If the penalty-taker is younger than six years old, you're most likely 100% in control, and the outcomes for him could be life-defining. If you don't know the child, you’re better off in the long run, trying, but not saving it, provided he made a reasonable attempt to shoot at goal. You help form his sense of self as someone who can do things like this. Make sure though that your attempt at saving it is somewhat genuine. The older he is, the more genuine the attempt needs to appear. The real question is "what will the young man believe about himself after this encounter". If he's older than six years old go ahead and save it. If you can. You might revise that age upward or downward depending on where the kid is from and how tough the kids from there are. Kids from Nkuku your threshold is probably eight or even ten years old. Namanga kids are a solid six, and sometimes four or five. Some of the toughest kids come from Namanga.
His eyes paused at Zag’s eye line. Zag straightened his back and held his chest out without thinking.
Mr Ndambo then said.
If you are completely unsure, make it obviously funny and dive the wrong way. Like I did.
Yamika allowed himself a little smile and dropped his shoulders, relaxing.
Mr. Ndambo caught himself feeling sentimental about times past and sharing an unexpected intimate moment with children, one of whom he’d just met a few days ago.
Zag could see that the story meant a lot to Mr. Ndambo. Zag’s feeling was that this was the real Mr. Ndambo.
The real Mr. Ndambo is nice, he thought.
Mr. Ndambo handed Zag a pair of keys, and said, I have to go now. Welcome to the Nishina Institution. Do me proud! We’ll talk about your Power later.
He started to leave but turned back and looked at Yamika.
Yamika! he said
Yes sir! Yamika said
Take good care of him! He’s a rare talent. It’s not easy looking after six-year olds.
He walked out and may or may not have heard Yamika’s response:
Yes sir! I will.
And without looking back, Mr. Ndambo shouted: And somebody open the windows in here. It smells.
Of course, everyone else in their wing of the building had been listening. Just from a safe distance, and out of sight. As soon as Mr Ndambo’s footsteps disappeared, Zag could hear the sound of 16 windows being opened and a collective sigh of relief.
Awkward pause, and then Yamika said.
Ok, let’s open your locker and show you what’s what.