The double-nationality dilemma

Ingratitude, high treason, lack of patriotism and greed. These are the expressions I hear the most whenever the discussion moves to a specific issue: the Cape Verdean natives or descendants who represent other football national teams. Nani (Man Utd), Rolando (FC Porto), Miguel (Valencia), Eliseu (Lazio) and Nélson (Betis) all chose to play for the Portuguese Selecção instead.

I had just arrived in Cape Verde when the latter was called up for the Portugal Under-21 squad. The outrage reached a surprising level, especially in the online fan forums. Working as a journalist, I routinely wrote articles about his eye-catching performances for Benfica. For each and every one of those, I would get several negatives comments. Some went as far as suggesting that I should stop writing about Nélson, because “he is no longer a Cape Verdean”.

The full back is, I suppose, a special case, because, out of the four mentioned, only Nélson was born in Cape Verde. In fact, “Netcha”, as he is nicknamed in his home-island, Sal, moved to Portugal when he was already 17 years old, to pursue a career as a professional player. But the resentment remains towards all the others, even if at a lower level.

Due to chronic droughts and famines, there are nowadays more Cape Verdeans living abroad than in the archipelago. But, from a political perspective, the country has maintained a somewhat uneasy relationship with its diaspora. Even Amílcar Cabral, who led Cape Verde (and Guinea-Bissau) to independence, stated that “The escapist dream, the desire to leave, cannot remain the only theme. The dream must be different… No longer a desire to depart but to create a new land inside our land.”

Only in 1997 did the country fully recognized the right to hold a double nationality. But a myth remained, with an unmistakable touch of nationalism: a Cape Verdean will always be (and feel) Cape-Verdean, wherever he is in the world.

So, if it’s acceptable to live, work, marry in Portugal and to even gain the nationality, why is it so unacceptable to play for the Portuguese football team?

Again, it’s all about pure and simple nationalism. In modern times, 11 players replace the army and a football march becomes a war. When the game is over, the winner takes home the biggest reward of all: pride. The 18-year-old who runs away from the army is called a deserter. The player who refuses to play for the national team is called a traitor.

In the end, it’s still ironic that so much can be said against “Netcha”, nowadays a Second Division full back, and nobody talks about another Cape Verdean, Nelson Évora. After all, he is only the current triple jump Olympic champion, who was chosen, for the third year in a row, as Portugal’s top athlete.