My Olympic Revelations
When I was eight-years-old, I believed in superheros. Sure, we all did. But, I was unique in the sense that I believed any idiot could become one. I remember one day when my father asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up and I told him I wanted to be a superhero. I remember the look he gave me afterwards. It was the look of a man who didn't know if he was supposed to encourage my youthful curiosity, clear up my confusion or euthanize me for my misguided belief. I even believed that I simply needed the right set of circumstances to gain superpowers. I won't get into the specifics, but I will admit that my older brother, as my "Extraordinary Ability Acquisition Consultant" (E.A.A.C), shares the blunt of the blame, although some people might believe that child services should have been informed.....but let's not go there. Point is, you can imagine my disappointment when the only reward for my effort was numerous injuries and humiliating spills with no thrills. The same can be said for this summer.
When the Olympics were around the corner, I was barely noticed. Sure, it would be the first time London had hosted such an event since 1948, but beyond the historical significance, nothing really jumped at me. In retrospect, my lack of enthusiasm can be attributed to my inability to sit through endless games, watching them, when I could be doing other things, like actually playing them.....or writing in my blog, which should be indicative of my rather lackluster social life. But, like any citizen of the world, I was looking forward to seeing my brethren compete. For two reasons.
First, even though, as a country, our sports activities have been quite limited, what few sports we do practice in Eritrea, what sports we do play, we play hard. Specifically, sports like long distance running, cycling and professional soccer, sports that allow us to take advantage of our naturally lean frames and endurance, due in part to the climatic factors of the region. Secondly, the horn has produced notable long-distance runners who "ran with the best of them". Athletes like Zersenay Tadese, Haile Gebreselassie, Abebe Bikila, Meb Kiflezighi, Werknesh Kidane and more. And while I'm sure we may have had athletes of other disciplines representing Eritrea and their other respective countries, this is the sport we excel at, the sport we rule at. This is where we ultimately kick ass.
Make all the jokes you want. Lord knows I've heard virtually all the jokes one could muster up, from intellectually-dwarfed peons like the inhabitants of my town, to the hilarious Robin Williams. But the fact of the matter is, we win at these not because we're "looking for food, being chased by the police, are out-running a stampede" or whatever the hell else. We win because we're disciplined, focused and determined. And seeing both my brethren and their counterparts walking into the stadium, I was supremely confident that the story would remain the same. I guess the almighty had other plans
One of the most notable upsets, in my mind, was a Somali-born English runner named Mo Farah, who won both the 5,000 and 10,000 meter races, beating out various other big names, including the aforementioned Zersenay, who placed 6th in one of those races. The 5-foot-9 runner has since enjoyed his well-deserved fame, which has included a few endorsement deals. But that's irrelevant. When I first saw the race, my first reaction, though involuntarily, was "God, we suck". Sure, he's Somali, but the fact is, WE LOST TO AN ENGLISHMAN!!! And to add insult to injury, in the 10,000m race, the silver medalist was american Galen Rupp. Now, this is not an attempt to spew out certain race-related ideologies, but I suppose I was a bit surprised, considering it was my belief Americans were more successful in sprinting. But I guess that just shows how much I know. Bottom line, both these men won and their respective victories were achieved by skill and skill alone. And for that, these men have my respect.
However, that does little to dull the pain and disappointment I felt in knowing that, while Ethiopia had achieved some success, we didn't. And the fact that we'll have to wait until the 2016 Olympics only throws salt on an already raw wound. But, then something else happened.
My mother, one of the smartest and most beautiful women I know, is completely tone-deaf.....at least when it comes to English music. I remember her always sing how "its not if you win or lose, its all how you play the game", although she would break out into that particular lyric for almost any occasion. And while it usually made me cringe with embarrassment at the obvious folly of her random use of it, in this instance, it was quite appropriate.
The Olympics were never meant to be a contest. Sure, they encourage competition and sport among the people, in hopes of finding the best, but there's more to it than that. The Olympics stress disinterest. Disinterest towards skin color, race, ethnicity, language, culture and whatever else that makes us different. The Olympics doesn't care when your national holidays are or what animal you slaughter to make a feast for it. The Olympics doesn't care how often you are required to visit relatives and what are considered appropriate gifts. The Olympics doesn't care whether you believe in Christianity, Islam, Judaism or some obscure cult that requires that you sacrifice a turtle to an extinct volcano after making love to some random stranger in the most unorthodox manner.
The Olympics is just one big party. Its a party where all are invited, all are welcomed and all are encouraged to be just as inviting and welcoming. You are there not because you're trying to score the big one, not to outplay or outperform the guy in front of or behind you. Its because you carry the biggest responsibility, the greatest honor anybody could ever have. The privilege of standing before the world, representing your country, letting them know who you are and how proud you are to be that. And the world has, does and shall see you for that.
So, regardless of the outcome, the Olympics taught me that, despite the insanity of the world, sometimes it can make sense. Sometimes it can be a good place. Sometimes it does bring people closer together. It did for the Eritrean and Ethiopian runners representing their respective countries. Despite the current political tension (another story for another time.....hopefully never), they were able to put that aside, in the spirit of sportsmanship, as well as the games. Even if it was for just one day, they were equals and they were proud.
And so am I.
As for me, thinking back, I guess despite big brother's unconventional "E.A.A.C." techniques (if there are indeed conventional ones), I did get powers. I discovered my ability to tell my story, through my eyes, in my own way, to whoever I see fit. And while that will never land me a comic book or a movie deal, I am grateful for it. In a way, I am a superhero. I guess I'd better come up with a name then......any ideas??
When the Olympics were around the corner, I was barely noticed. Sure, it would be the first time London had hosted such an event since 1948, but beyond the historical significance, nothing really jumped at me. In retrospect, my lack of enthusiasm can be attributed to my inability to sit through endless games, watching them, when I could be doing other things, like actually playing them.....or writing in my blog, which should be indicative of my rather lackluster social life. But, like any citizen of the world, I was looking forward to seeing my brethren compete. For two reasons.
First, even though, as a country, our sports activities have been quite limited, what few sports we do practice in Eritrea, what sports we do play, we play hard. Specifically, sports like long distance running, cycling and professional soccer, sports that allow us to take advantage of our naturally lean frames and endurance, due in part to the climatic factors of the region. Secondly, the horn has produced notable long-distance runners who "ran with the best of them". Athletes like Zersenay Tadese, Haile Gebreselassie, Abebe Bikila, Meb Kiflezighi, Werknesh Kidane and more. And while I'm sure we may have had athletes of other disciplines representing Eritrea and their other respective countries, this is the sport we excel at, the sport we rule at. This is where we ultimately kick ass.
Make all the jokes you want. Lord knows I've heard virtually all the jokes one could muster up, from intellectually-dwarfed peons like the inhabitants of my town, to the hilarious Robin Williams. But the fact of the matter is, we win at these not because we're "looking for food, being chased by the police, are out-running a stampede" or whatever the hell else. We win because we're disciplined, focused and determined. And seeing both my brethren and their counterparts walking into the stadium, I was supremely confident that the story would remain the same. I guess the almighty had other plans
One of the most notable upsets, in my mind, was a Somali-born English runner named Mo Farah, who won both the 5,000 and 10,000 meter races, beating out various other big names, including the aforementioned Zersenay, who placed 6th in one of those races. The 5-foot-9 runner has since enjoyed his well-deserved fame, which has included a few endorsement deals. But that's irrelevant. When I first saw the race, my first reaction, though involuntarily, was "God, we suck". Sure, he's Somali, but the fact is, WE LOST TO AN ENGLISHMAN!!! And to add insult to injury, in the 10,000m race, the silver medalist was american Galen Rupp. Now, this is not an attempt to spew out certain race-related ideologies, but I suppose I was a bit surprised, considering it was my belief Americans were more successful in sprinting. But I guess that just shows how much I know. Bottom line, both these men won and their respective victories were achieved by skill and skill alone. And for that, these men have my respect.
However, that does little to dull the pain and disappointment I felt in knowing that, while Ethiopia had achieved some success, we didn't. And the fact that we'll have to wait until the 2016 Olympics only throws salt on an already raw wound. But, then something else happened.
My mother, one of the smartest and most beautiful women I know, is completely tone-deaf.....at least when it comes to English music. I remember her always sing how "its not if you win or lose, its all how you play the game", although she would break out into that particular lyric for almost any occasion. And while it usually made me cringe with embarrassment at the obvious folly of her random use of it, in this instance, it was quite appropriate.
The Olympics were never meant to be a contest. Sure, they encourage competition and sport among the people, in hopes of finding the best, but there's more to it than that. The Olympics stress disinterest. Disinterest towards skin color, race, ethnicity, language, culture and whatever else that makes us different. The Olympics doesn't care when your national holidays are or what animal you slaughter to make a feast for it. The Olympics doesn't care how often you are required to visit relatives and what are considered appropriate gifts. The Olympics doesn't care whether you believe in Christianity, Islam, Judaism or some obscure cult that requires that you sacrifice a turtle to an extinct volcano after making love to some random stranger in the most unorthodox manner.
The Olympics is just one big party. Its a party where all are invited, all are welcomed and all are encouraged to be just as inviting and welcoming. You are there not because you're trying to score the big one, not to outplay or outperform the guy in front of or behind you. Its because you carry the biggest responsibility, the greatest honor anybody could ever have. The privilege of standing before the world, representing your country, letting them know who you are and how proud you are to be that. And the world has, does and shall see you for that.
So, regardless of the outcome, the Olympics taught me that, despite the insanity of the world, sometimes it can make sense. Sometimes it can be a good place. Sometimes it does bring people closer together. It did for the Eritrean and Ethiopian runners representing their respective countries. Despite the current political tension (another story for another time.....hopefully never), they were able to put that aside, in the spirit of sportsmanship, as well as the games. Even if it was for just one day, they were equals and they were proud.
And so am I.
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