Football Fiction: The Fibre of Civilisation

In Guatemala there lives a small tribe of thirty-five, ranging from newborns to elders well into their seventies. They work together in harmony, in a wooded area behind the ruins of a huge pyramid erected centuries ago by the Aztecs, or the Incas, or the Mayans, I forget which.

It’s mightily impressive, whoever built it. The members of this tribe are much like other American natives today, existing in seclusion, maintaining traditional rituals and rejecting modern advances like clothing, medicine and money. They share simple lives with the ones they love.

This evening, the men of the tribe are harvesting kapok fibre from a sixty-metre tall Ceiba pentandra tree, to wrap around blowgun darts so they can hunt tomorrow. These men have never heard of Clint Dempsey or a Transfer Window.