Two Worlds, One Ball: How Soccer Connects us Across the Divide.

Growing up, anything in my way that had volume and mass enough to be kicked, I kicked it. I had it in me! All for the love of soccer.

In Zimbabwe, soccer is everywhere. From the well-lined pitches of private schools to the dusty, uneven grounds in the heart of the Ghetto, the game lives in the feet of every kid who dares to dream, no matter where they come from.

I’ve seen both sides.

At my high school, where I play, the grass is green, the goals have nets, and we wear matching kits. We train with proper coaches, have water breaks, and sometimes even have parents cheering from the sidelines. It’s organized, structured, and safe. I play academy soccer as well and it’s really fun playing as an athlete hoping to make it pro in Zimbabwe. But just a few minutes to hours away, it’s a whole different story . I’ve watched kids in the Ghetto play with torn shoes, clothes, socks, or barefoot, chasing a half-flat ball across a dirt field marked by stones and imagination. Their goalposts are bricks or old crates. There’s no coach,

no scoreboards—just heart, energy, and pure love for the game. One day after my own training session, I took time to think about the next Real Madrid kit I wanted, but remembered there are people without kits at all. I saw some kids play in the Ghetto,

the way they moved – fearless, fast, full of fire – it made me realize something. They’re not missing skill. They’re missing support.

THAT HIT ME.

I’ve worked hard, sure. But I’ve also had access to equipment, mentorship, and a place where my potential could grow. They lay just as hard, maybe harder, but with so much less. Yet they show up every day, just for the chance to touch the ball. It made me appreciate what I have. And it made me want to do something about it.

Soccer has the power to bring us together, to break barriers. But it also reveals the gap between the kids who are seen and supported and the ones who are overlooked. I believe that needs to change. Because talent lives in every corner of Zimbabwe—even in the Ghetto streets where the ball barely bounces. All they need is a chance. And maybe, just maybe, I can help make that

happen.