Soccer—A Kick for Conservation and Communities
Article and Photos by John Cancalosi

What do wildlife photography, soccer, and conservation have in common? I shall attempt to make the connection clear.

It was wildlife photography that took me—a person who does this sort of thing for a living—to a private game reserve in Zimbabwe some years ago. It was a passion for soccer that found me playing the game with staff working at the reserve.

The love of soccer created an instant bond among us. We played on the scorched earth under the searing midday sun, using a well-worn ball “inflated” with crumpled newspapers. Wondering how proper equipment might affect our scrimmages, I purchased a new ball. Its delivery to a nearby village was cause for celebration. The whole village—200 or so—turned out to watch the ball’s inaugural soccer game, and a great time was had by all. The cost of that ball was the best money I had ever spent.

Several years later, while in South Africa, it occurred to me that the love of soccer might be used to create goodwill between nature parks and the villages that surround them. With this in mind, I arranged to meet Brad Poole of Ezemvelo KZN Wildlife (KZN), the provincial wildlife authority in KwaZulu-Natal (Zulu Kingdom).

Brad shared my passions for soccer and for wildlife conservation, and after some discussion, we formed a partnership to develop a pilot project—Get the Ball Rolling—to donate books, soccer balls, and other sporting equipment to villages in the Ukhahlamba-Drakensberg region.

I arranged for the donations, and Brad organized their distribution. Contributions were generous. The English Football Association donated several dozen balls and T-shirts, and British Airways, a mountain of sportswear and other clothing. Biblionef South Africa contributed hundreds of children’s books written in the Zulu language, and South African Airways offered a significantly reduced cost for shipping the donations to South Africa.

Many of the donations were delivered to the mayor of a region near Pietermaritzburg, a man named Sipho Bhengu, with whom I developed a friendship. Mayor Bhengu was curious about what I did for a living, so I asked if he would like to accompany me to a blind I had set up to photograph endangered wattled cranes. As we traveled to the crane site, we were followed by two armed guards—the mayor also carried a weapon. As it became apparent the situation was safe, the guards left, and I was afforded a rare opportunity to spend a day birdwatching and photographing wildlife with Mayor Bhengu. Our conversation dwelled on natural history and conservation.

Later, I visited a number of schools in the Pietermaritzburg area with KZN’s Community Liaison Officer Dennis Mkhabela. I observed thousands of children studying under conditions that would try the souls of lesser humans. Their teachers were grateful to receive the educational materials and sports equipment we brought to them. The bulk of the partnership’s donations, however, were presented at a soccer tournament held in a stadium sitting in the shadow of the Ukhahlamba-Drakensberg Mountains.

During the tournament, a match was played between a team of villagers and a team of KZN employees. I don’t remember who won—it didn’t matter. A win-win atmosphere had enveloped the local residents and park workers. Following the game, the park staff and I were invited to dinner at the local Zulu chief’s office. The KZN staff told me that this was the first time they had ever received such an invitation from the village. It was gratifying to think that I might have contributed in some small way to fostering goodwill between them.

This experience leads me to urge those working for wildlife in rural Africa, or elsewhere in the soccer-loving world, to consider the connections that can be forged between communities and conservationists simply through a shared passion for soccer, the “beautiful game.”