excerpt
Between 2008 and 2009, with the
World Cup approaching, I started to
get interested in the world of amateur
football. I was intrigued by its everyday
existence, how the unflagging enthusiasm
of the players compensates for the
sometimes uncomfortable conditions of
play, in France as well as in South Africa.
Out of this experience came images that
were deliberately unconventional, in which
the sporting reality of the football grounds
served to reveal an almost anthropological,
social approach.
After the World Cup, once the roars of
the crowds had faded away, I realized that
despite a slight ebb in the media coverage
and the negative dispatches about the
downward slide of a degenerate and powerhungry
sport – stories about showers of cash,
scandals, betrayals – the inherent passion for
the game of football never wavered in those
who played it for personal reasons.
And during a trip to Israel for an exhibition
of my French and South African work, I had
the idea of pursuing my artistic enquiry into
the subject. The Oxylane Art Foundation soon
made this idea a concrete reality.
Almost every day, and for several decades
now, Palestine has been in the news. But
it's clear to all that this battered land,
more fragile in the eyes of some than other
constantly shifting areas of the world, is not
often mentioned in the sports pages. Do
they even play sports Palestine ? Yes ! What
do they play ? Well, they play football, like
everyone else. The difference being that even
if the rules are the same, everything else
is necessarily affected by such an unusual
context.
Shaken by a tragic destiny, and still under
military occupation, Palestine does not exist
as an accepted and recognized nation. At
least, not yet. But through their persistence
and enthusiasm, the inhabitants of this “thrice
holy” land prepare the ground for a nation
to come. After years of active resistance,
with costly and inhumane sacrifices on both
sides, another project is emerging. The
project of a people, young and conscious of
their rights, full of renewed confidence in the
future. A passion for football is part of this
dynamic, expressed in many ways and in the
most unusual places. Somehow, professional
football survives, even if, lost in the depths of
international rankings, its hopes of renown
remain purely theoretical.
But through this modest window, I
observed many things, carried along
by encounters I feel were imbued with
tolerance and humanity. I witnessed young
women playing in shorts, their hair flying in
the wind; bunches of children scouring the
bushes for their lost ball ; sports symbols
graffitied on walls, and a Prime Minister
exercising on artificial grass where the
seeds of sunflowers and lupins were strewn
in rows.
After two intifadas, Palestine counts
19,000 registered players in a population
of 4.1 million. Jibril Rajoub, President of
the Football Federation (and former head of
Yasser Arafat's security team), somewhere
between self-determination and positive
thinking, states that “today, the weapon of
the Palestinian people must be sport. Sport
knows no borders, no racism.” If reality
could prove him right, it would be a beautiful
win. For the whole world.
Amélie Debray
