Football in Sudan

“What the hell?” the man whooped, “The Chargers never won a Superbowl.”

“What?” she said.

“Those shirts they’re wearing – they’re, yeah, what the hell? I think they’re fucking Superbowl shirts. American football shirts.”

He waved for the crowd of children to come closer.

“Well they obviously did win.”

The heat swelled the man’s face like a tomato. “Jesus, Carline, I’d know if they won – don’t you think I’d know? I’d fucking know if the Chargers won a Superbowl.” His eye narrowed intensely on the oldest girl. “See? It says… Superbowl -” he squinted, “I can’t make out the year.”

The children stared as the tomato man, with great effort, turned himself toward the jeep. “How the hell did they end up in Sudan?”

The woman eyed the tiniest one.

“Maybe they like football.”

“Football in Sudan?” he scoffed back, “There’s no grass here.”

Dust quivered the air and stuck to Carline’s lips.

“Ah, look at you.” she said to the little one, “So cute.” She slipped an apple out of her purse.

“Want an apple?” she bit above the skin, “Apple?”

Nobody moved.

She tossed it at the girl, who narrowly avoided it.

“Oh!,” she blushed, “No, no.” She pointed to the apple and motioned with her lips, showing the girls it was food. The oldest girl ran up, cupped it in her palms, and carried it away.

“There you go.”

“Was that my apple?” the man said, returning with binoculars, “I was about to eat that.”

“Have they seen apples before?” she hushed., “Can they eat them?”

“What do you mean ‘can they eat them’”?

“ Well, I know they can’t eat pork.”

“What do you mean ‘can’t eat pork?’”

“Muslims can’t eat pork because of their religion, smarty pants.”

“Well that doesn’t mean they can’t eat it.” he sniffed, “They could eat it if they wanted to. They just don’t want to.” He wiped the sweat from his blistering white brows and fixed his Supervisio’s upon one of the girls, “There’s a difference. What if they were starving and all they had were, I don’t know, hot dogs. Would they just starve to death? ”

“Ted!” she giggled, “Stop it! That’s what they want to believe in. And they don’t have hot dogs in Sudan, silly man.”

“Well it’s dumb.” he looked the children up and down. “No wonder they’re so skinny.”

“Ted! That’s not nice.”

He twisted a dial on his binoculars.

“1995?...” he groaned

“What’s that?”

“The shirt says they won in 1995. That’s bullshit.”

She chuckled, “Well they obviously must have won.”

“Jesus Christ, Carline, I told you – If the Chargers won a Superbowl, I’d fucking know about it.”

“Oh-!” She stomped.

The man wiped his brow. "What do ya' - what to ya' think I'd have to give for one of those?"

He snapped open his fanny pack.

"One of those?" she echoed.

He took out his wallet, "They can use our money, right? They can use American money?" He took out a twenty.

The girls stared.

“Ted. What are you doing?”

“Eh?” he motioned. “Eh?” He hung it up high.

Nobody moved.

"Shirt?" he rubbed his thumbs together and paused. "Shirt?"

A big, friendly smile cracked open his face, "Mon-ey?"

"Ted! Stop it."

“Carline! Would you please?”

He motioned for them, for one of them to take her shirt off. "Shirt for mon-ey."

“Ted...”

“Would you shut up, Carline?! Those shirts must be worth something.”

“I don't care! If they were worth five hundred dollars, I wouldn't care. I said stop it!”

He looked around hopelessly.

“Fuck it, then!" he plunged the twenty deep in his pocket "You know what? Fuck it."

~