Cooking like a Chicken on a Rotisserie

The sun was high in the sky and there was not a bit of shade in sight. I sat on the hot cement bleachers fearing I was going to end up with a third degree burn on my backside. The bleachers were on fire. I pulled an extra bandana out of my bag and sat it on my section of the bleacher in hopes that it would take the sting out of the heat that was cooking my rear end; it didn’t. I wondered how long it would take for the cement to cool down. I looked at the stadium clock to determine how long we had to wait for the action to start; two hours until kickoff. It seemed like I had been sitting in the sun for an eternity when I checked the time again. I was confused; the clock read the same time that it had when I last looked. That’s when I realized the stadium clock was broken, go figure. I looked around the stadium and noted the place was filling up, but there were still thousands of seats available. Benin versus Ghana, it promised to be a sell out game. We were told to arrive hours before the game started to make sure we got seats and my friends and I hoped that our early arrival would help us avoid long lines and possible violent outbreaks that often accompany soccer games in foreign countries. We also figured it was the smartest thing to do since we are advised to avoid large crowds and attending a soccer match sort of went against that advice. There were thousands of people outside the arena when we arrived, but there were plenty of seats to choose from when we finally made it inside the stadium. We could sit anywhere we wanted in the general admission section. The “top seating- box office” was off limits, but we couldn’t get into that section anyway because it was separated from the rest of the cement bleachers by a high chain linked fence with that curly, barbed wire on top that shreds your skin if you touch it. Living on missionary budgets, my friends and I bought $4 dollar tickets instead of the expensive $10 tickets, but as my backside was burning, those elite, comfy, plastic lawn chairs in the “box office seating” sure looked appealing. Maybe I should have splurged the extra $6. At first, my friends selected seats close to the exit with the rationale that if things went crazy, we could make a quick getaway and sneak out before too much violence erupted. I thought that was a horrible idea. I convinced them we should sit as far away from the exit as possible because if things went crazy, everyone would want out and we would get trampled in the process. With persuasion, my friends relocated with me to the top area of the stadium. They decided it would really stink to die at a soccer match. So, there we sat with boiling bums in the sun. I drank almost all my water before the soccer teams even arrived and I feared dehydration would set in before the game even started. My mind momentarily drifted from the heat to the past and I pictured the days when I attended ball games at Tiger Stadium with nice seats, shade over my head, concession stands around the corner, and mobile salesmen packing treats connected to their shoulders while yelling “peanuts, popcorn, ice-cold beer…peanuts, popcorn, ice-cold beer… peanuts, popcorn…” I don’t drink beer, but I sure thought something ice-cold would be great! Although I was cooking like a chicken on a rotisserie, I was having fun and it was entertaining watching all the people around the stadium. I was surveying the action around me when I noticed a number of African women moving around the stadium with baskets on their heads and buckets in their hands. This is not an uncommon site in Africa, so I didn’t think much of their presence, I thought they were spectators too, but then I realized they were my daydream come true! They were selling food and drinks. They sold cashews, plantain chips, soda, and one of my favorite local ice cream treats called Fan Milk! Awesome! While enjoying my Fan Milk, I observed some action on the track around the field. It was a bunch of military personnel taking post. They were fully armed and through the zoom setting on my friend’s camera, we determined some of their guns were loaded with tear gas. In case the sea of chocolate people surrounding me wasn’t enough of a hint to tell me I wasn’t in Kansas anymore, those military men sure did the trick. I figured the game was about to begin. The crowd went wild as the soccer players took their place on the field. It was a great game. The score was tied at zero-zero at halftime. Both teams were giving it their best. The score was still nil-nil with 30 seconds left on the clock. We thought it was going to be a draw. My friends and I were okay with that. We figured no one would go crazy if the match ended in a stalemate and we would live. We were planning our departure, but still watching the game when out of nowhere, Benin scored a goal! The stadium went crazy! It was awesome. Benin had scored with only 5 seconds left in the game. Benin was the game champion and qualifier for the African cup! Way to go Benin! All the Africans around us were ecstatic. My friends and I jumped up and down with excitement too, but we were more excited because we knew we would live, we weren’t quite sure what would have happened if Benin lost. Way to go Benin!