I went to the Uganda Cranes versus Togo football game. Sadly, Uganda lost 1-0. Togo dominated the first half and although Uganda got their act back together, it was a little too late in the end. But enough of the game commentary…

The best way to describe the experience was organized chaos. From the rows of vendors lined along the road into the stadium selling snacks, beverages, hats and fan paraphernalia; to the women’s security line (there was only 1 for women and 4 for men) where they confiscated all the beverages bought outside; to the stands… it was a fantastic gong show filled with nationalistic pride and energy that I hope to repeat again in the near future. (Uganda versus Ghana hopefully. I am still trying to figure out how to deal with torn loyalties between my Black Stars of my old home and the Cranes of my new home…)

We arrived two hours early to ensure that we got seats and even at that point the stadium was over 50% filled. Good thing too as we literally had to walk around half of the stadium to get in through our correct gate. Masses of fans in yellow, black and red were navigating the stands trying to find seats that offered the best vantage point and hopefully some shade. We sat at the corner near the goal line basking in the sun when my spidey senses helped me to realize that by facing west our seats would constantly be in the sun and I would bake, probably becoming as red as many of the jerseys around me. So we meandered our way to the other side where we could enjoy the shade (and conveniently be closer to where we parked).

For the next 1.5 hours we watched as the stands completely filled, including the steps and railings. I watched locals and muzungos (foreigners) alike, climb the section dividers like monkeys to get higher into the stands to empty “seats.” Vendors with fried chicken, popcorn and peanuts attempted to surge their way through the fans. Two women in front of us complained about people using the space behind them to traverse the crowds and kept inching backwards, practically sitting on our toes, in order to deter anyone from walking through. The most creative vendors were those who carried a digital camera in one hand and a printer in the other, taking pictures – a small memento – of fans as they awaited the arrival of their beloved Cranes.

While all the fans waited for their football heroes to emerge, local artists entertained us. In truth, I couldn’t really hear what they were singing as it was hard to even hear the person next to me over the constant buzz of horns and vuvuzelas. But when a crowd favourite was sung, the stadium would start to sing along and many would get up and get their dance on. I might not have known the song or the artist, but it was hard not to get caught up in the revelry.

If I thought the crowd was loud before the game, it was nothing compared to when the Cranes ran out of their inflatable tunnel, or for one of Togo’s top players (strangely, he got the greatest cheer of any individual player), or after the Ugandan national anthem, or whenever a player touched the ball. It was intense and I had even had a continuous buzzing in my ears for about 30 minutes after the game. Apparently, there was another significant time when the fans called out, only I was not aware of it over the buzz: the crowd booed when politicians were announced. Kampala is known as a breeding ground for opposition of the predominantly rurally-elected ruling government, and football games, and the football stadium in particular, are often the gathering place for political dissent. I never feared for my safety; however, the sheer number of people put me on alert. Perhaps, if I had known the politics of football, I would have been a little more alert; in the end, ignorance is bliss and I am glad I just got to enjoy the experience. (Warning: some expats were attacked and mugged after the game, I would recommend going in smaller groups and being in the company of locals.)

It may not have been the best football I have ever seen, but it was highly entertaining, especially as all the fans became referees, coaches or football experts and had some insight of how the Cranes should be playing differently or calling the fouls and penalties. I have to admit that I was mentally doing the same, but purely out of frustration that Uganda had a tendency of kicking the ball forward with seemingly no plan of attack. The surrounding fans loved it this though. Every time Uganda touched the ball and even more so when the ball went forward towards their attacking goal, the crowd would erupt, only to go silent when Togo retrieved the ball. It was hard not to find this mildly amusing, even if it was incredibly irritating.

If I thought the pre-game was organized chaos, the end was even more so. With steps blocked, you basically had to climb over people or wait for a seat to be vacated to meander to the exits. Then you had to join the crowd as vehicles and those entering the mass behind, herded us like cattle through the main gates. Don’t even get me started on the traffic to leave the stadium. I imagine the traffic remained gridlocked for hours after the game ended. Fortunately, I was on a motorcycle and could squeeze between the vehicles. I even watched one motorcycle drive underneath a truck… Usually, you are only allowed one passenger on a motorcycle, although often you see two. That day police turned a blind eye to the multitude of motorcycles with four people on them. So long as the crowd dissipated, the police didn’t seem to mind. Hundreds of people decided to walk several kilometres to the main road – after almost an hour of dodging through traffic, we reached the first to leave the stadium.

The end of the game presented the worst and best of Kampala. While stopped in a crazy mass of cars, two fans yelled profanity at me because I am a foreigner, and then one of them pinched my arm as he walked past. It is a reminder of the resentment and disrespect that exists in the hearts of many. Then there were the boys on a motorcycle we passed, but who felt the need to speed past us to blow kisses at me. This superficial love for the foreigner, the appreciation for the exotic, was the positive way I needed to end the evening, as the cool night air blew across my face on the way home.