Volleyball

It's Sunday afternoon and since the morning the sound of shouting and cheering has been drifting over our garden wall. There's a volleyball tournament on in the big playing field in the centre of Iten. After lunch we file out of our gate and take the short cut, down a narrow winding path that comes out just by the field.

A crowd, mostly men, have gathered around the game. It's the final. They are leaning in, shoulders touching, intent, their feet marking the boundaries of the pitch. Every so often the ball flies into the crowd, striking somebody in the face or arm, an eruption of laughter follows, and the ball is thrown back in.

Beside me, a young girl is playing with a ball of string, pulling it behind her like a dog on a lead. Three boys play football with an empty plastic bottle, another runs past rolling a tyre with a stick. Beyond them a football game is in motion, cows grazing a few feet away.

Something has amused the crowd, there are peals of laughter, people keep glancing over to one corner of the pitch. I walk around the outside to get a better view, heads turn like a Mexican wave to stare at me as I go. I find an opening and squeeze in between two men, looking over to the source of the laughter.

I see Adharanand sitting on the ground, right on the sideline, with Lila and Uma next to him. Each time the ball comes in their direction, a man jumps in front of them, shouting out, pretending to stop the ball from hitting them. More raucous laughter.

I ask a friend what he is saying. "He says he is protecting the two little dolls from the ball".

The game ends, and Adharanand stands up to leave. I try and walk over to him, but it's like trying to get close to a celebrity. He and the girls are surrounded. The winners of the game walk past unnoticed.

We make our way back to the start of the path, a swarm of children around our legs. The attention has been too much, and Lila and Uma insist on being carried. We retreat to our garden and close the gate behind us.