Egypt's own sock football is an art of its own. Galal Nassar shares the secrets, and looks at other local streetwise sports inventions There is something pleasantly refreshing about watching children play. For many observers, it is a welcome escape from their daily trials and tribulations. It is a breath of fresh air; a return to an innocence many struggle to recall. And when they do, it is often with pangs of nostalgia. Imagination, above all, is a child's primary means of entertaining his or herself. And for hundreds of thousands of young Egyptians, for whom money is tight, imagination has merged with resourcefulness to produce a variety of street games. Unfettered by their families' financial misfortune, and undaunted by the fact that they are unable to join sporting clubs, go to the cinema or youth centers, these underprivileged youths have wholeheartedly embraced the old adage that necessity is the mother of invention. Instead of a lush grass paying field, they have taken to the streets, rooftops and alleyways. And instead of costly sporting brand named equipment, they make their own. When it comes to football, the Egyptian invention is in a class of its own. Come to have been known as Kura Shurab, or "sock football", the game has transcended classes, districts and cities, and famed itself nationwide. I would know, I was a sock football fanatic myself -- causing chaos in the family by hogging all the socks and slippers I could find. And I am not the only one -- I shared my passion with millions of youngsters across the country. The craze has turned into tradition. On Jafaar Wali Pasha Street, a group of youngsters, intent on honing their football skills, chase after a soccer ball. But instead of a round, federation-approved leather ball, theirs is made of a stuffed sock. "That's why it's called sock football," laughs 13-year-old Hassan Gouda, the son of a public sector employee. "What you do, is you take a pair of plastic flip-flops (zannouba) that is ready to be replaced," he explains, "And you mutilate it," he laughs, his hands depicting the chopping up of the flip-flop into bite-size pieces. "And you stuff all these bits in a sock, and wrap it around itself," he continues. "And you get string. Lots of string. And wrap it around and around and around." This he points out, is the part that takes talent. "The expertise comes in wrapping it around in a way that makes the ball round. It's not easy," he smiles. "It takes practice and technique. Once you have it round, you coat it with a special kind of glue," he explains, referring to cobbler's glue (kolla). "You leave it to dry and you have the perfect ball. Of course size depends on the type of player and age and all this," he offers. Gouda elaborates on the rules of the game. "Two teams of six players face off against each other," he begins. "The playing field is the street, and the goals are marked by two big stones space out evenly at each end." How to make a sock football The length of the game is left open for children to decide, but the game generally lasts as long as their interest holds. While the children sprint up and down the street, their minds drift, but only for a fraction of a second, to the roaring fans in imaginary bleachers. The competition between these pint-sized punters is as heated as any World Cup tournament. The excitement at victory sends youngsters running home in glee, and the loser's eye's drooping mournfully to the ground. The sport has developed its rules, regulations, and followers around the country. And as it has developed, so too it has blossomed, with district sock football tournaments popping up and becoming the norm. On another street -- in the Ain Shams Al-Gharbiya district -- the scenario is similar. This time, however, a band of barefoot youngsters have forsaken football for a more egalitarian game of hopscotch, or as it is known in local street lingo "al-hagla" or "al-ula". Using a piece of broken limestone, the children have drawn a series of back-to-back rectangles. As the competitors hop from one rectangle to the next, the excitement quickly mounts. The rules of the game, shares nine-year-old Wael Shaaban, are fairly simple. "You have to push this stone with the side of your foot and hop on all squares," he explains. "But," he cautions with excitement, "if the stone lands on the white lines instead of in the rectangle, or if your other foot touches the ground, then you're out." The game, he assures proudly, requires a great deal of skill and a high level of fitness. "All that hoping can really tire you out," he says. "You have to be in good shape," he boasts. For those who prefer not to hop around, and are less inclined to physical exertion, the district of Al- Matariya reveals yet another local pastime concoction. On a corner of Ezzat Pasha Street, a gathering of youngsters are converged for a high-stakes game of marbles. For this group of children, the triangles they have sketched on the street takes on more significance than the dice tables in Vegas or Monte Carlo. But amidst the excitement and commotion of anticipation, one youngster steps out to explain the game. "The winner of the game is the one who manages to hit an opponent's marble, or knock it out of the triangle, with his own," says six-year-old Mohamed Sayed Farshuti. "It's better if you have more marbles," he explains, "Because then your chances of staying in the game becomes bigger. I had a hard time convincing my mother to give me more money for more marbles, but it was very important, because the player with most marbles is not only able to stay in the game longer, but they are also respected most by the other players." Even at six, that respect is important. As the players await their turn to take a shot, looks of intense concentration come over their faces. "You have to really concentrate and be able to predict what other players are going to do," he says, the serious look on his face emphasised with a seeming frown of concentration. "It's basically a game of strategy," he says, explaining that each player has a distinct style of shooting marbles. "You can shoot the marble with two fingers or throw it with your whole hand, while standing up or sitting down." Marbles aside, hide-and-seek and tug-of-war are also common sights on Egyptian side- streets. The concept of street sports as a whole, in essence, is a subculture of its own, and the safe side-streets of Egypt's many provinces and cities are the playgrounds of youngsters from all walks and scopes of life. The most common afternoon sight is that of youngsters, teenagers, and even adults alike, playing football in their neighbourhoods. Pedestrians stop and watch, at times, and cars know the protocol -- they slow down for a minute, honk their horns, and the players move swiftly and wave them through. "It's a part of the culture," says engineering student Alaa Osman. "You can't walk in the streets and not see people kicking a ball around. The day you do, that's the day you know that something is wrong."
