This time for Africa

This has quite possibly been one of the most fun months I've had in Peace Corps. Why? you ask.

Wait -- seriously? You have to ask?

THE WORLD CUP!!

One full month of The Beautiful Game. Painted bodies draped in flags. Constant buzzing on the television. People crowded around store fronts and small kiosks. Waka Waka. Wavin' Flag. GOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAL. So much excitement crammed into ~30 short days.

Not to mention the plethora of opportunities for an educational experience. Language. Culture. Geography --- I'll even admit I wasn't 100 percent certain of the exact location of Slovenia.

Perfect chance to whip out the ol' world map and dig around on Wikipedia.

Peru hasn't participated in the World Cup in decades. But that didn't stop my already sleepy little town to go into a coma for the past few weeks, just so that everyone could watch the games. Everywhere you went, a game was on, and people were shouting, groaning and clapping along with the TV crowds.

I started the Cup rooting, obviously, for the great nation of the United States of America -- with the condition that if *sigh* we were to be booted, I would cheer on the African team that went the furthest.

Not since college, when MU played KU (go Tigers!) and I taught my elderly grandmother the cheer MIZ-ZOU, have I been so enraptured by a single sport. Every time the US played, my heart jumped into my throat, my nails were chewed to bits, and I gave in to pure joy when my countrymen kicked that ball into the net and incredible disappointment every time they didn't.

I was with my host family in their living room when the US played Algeria. My host brothers and host father glued to the screen, me hopping up and down depending on the location of the ball on the field. When the US finally took the game and advanced to the next round, I leaped 2 feet in the air and shouted so loud, everyone surrounding the kiosk outside started laughing.

Even though the US didn't advance much further than that, their participation and my enthusiasm sparked a lot of questions from my Peruvian friends. Do you really have black people in your country? They asked me. How come that guy has a Spanish last name? Watching the US play was a great opportunity to talk about the diversity in our homeland. "Yes, there are Latinos who live there," I'd tell them. "Asians, too." In a country that is fairly homogeneous like Peru, the idea of such an array of people coming from all over was finally tangible by watching the players take the field.

Which was cool. Because that diversity and mix of cultures is exactly what I've grown to appreciate and miss most about the US. And the thing I'm most ready to talk about when I am asked that ubiquitous question, "What is America like?"

For the final game, I sat around a table with 8 other volunteers, in a room full of Peruvians. Some of us rooted for Spain. Others for Holland. Every body was cheering and gasping with every shot taken. Along with the rest of the world. And at that point, it didn't really matter where you came from. Or who you rooted for. 'Cause we were all watching together.

So often, I feel like The Other. An outsider ... And as comfortable as I get in site, I've never once felt like I belonged here ... Maybe that's my fault. For placing too many definitions and specifications on where Home should be.

But this World Cup made me feel like a part of something. ... Something big. And unifying.

And yeah, sure, it's just a game. But the World Cup is an opportunity to flip traditional power on its head. Where a tiny country like Uruguay could make it to 4th place. And China never even made the cut.

In the end, it didn't even really matter who took it all. Because we would have watched anyway. And for a few short weeks, we all hummed "Wavin' Flag." All around the world. Together.

And that's something.