The sunlight gleamed off aluminum bleachers as Ali Mohammed juggled a soccer ball—or as he calls it, “koora“—with practiced ease. At Burlington’s Sherwood Forest Park, children from Syrian, Egyptian, Moroccan, and Sudanese families shouted instructions and encouragement to each other in a blend of Arabic and English.
“Koora isn’t just a game for us,” says Mohammed, who arrived from Egypt seven years ago. “It’s a piece of home we carried across the ocean.”
The Arabic word for soccer has steadily permeated Canadian sporting vocabulary, particularly in communities with significant Middle Eastern and North African populations. This linguistic migration represents more than just terminology—it symbolizes how immigrant communities are reshaping Canada’s sporting landscape while maintaining cultural connections.
In Montreal’s Parc-Extension neighborhood, where over 75 different languages echo through its streets, Yasmine Farouk operates Koora Connect, a community program linking newcomer youth with established soccer clubs. “When I started this five years ago, local coaches had never heard the term ‘koora,'” she tells me, adjusting her hijab as we watch a practice session. “Now it’s just part of the vocabulary here.”
The program has helped place over 200 young players in competitive leagues across Quebec. Statistics Canada reports that participation in organized soccer among immigrant youth has increased 32% since 2016, with particularly strong growth in communities from Arabic-speaking countries.
The increasing visibility of koora culture extends beyond recreational play. The Canadian Premier League now features several players of Middle Eastern descent, including Omar El-Badry, who grew up playing in Cairo before joining Forge FC in Hamilton. El-Badry’s journey represents the transnational nature of the sport itself.
“In Egypt, koora is life—it’s political, it’s social, it’s everything,” El-Badry explained during our conversation at Tim Hortons Field. “I’m bringing that passion here, but also learning Canadian approaches to the game. It’s a beautiful exchange.”
That exchange manifests in coaching philosophies too. Adnan Hussein, who coaches at the Edmonton Scottish United Soccer Club, notes how his background playing in Iraq has influenced his coaching style. “The Middle Eastern approach to koora emphasizes technical skills and creativity—less structured than traditional European methods,” Hussein says. “I blend these approaches with Canadian emphasis on physical fitness and teamwork.”
This cultural integration isn’t without challenges. Rahma Osman, who founded the Halifax Koora Collective for women and girls, recalls the struggle to secure regular indoor training space during harsh Nova Scotia winters. “Many facilities didn’t take us seriously at first—they saw us as just a casual ethnic group rather than serious athletes,” Osman says.
Her persistence paid off. The Halifax Regional Municipality eventually partnered with the collective to provide subsidized access to indoor facilities during winter months. Today, the collective has grown from 12 to over 60 regular participants, including many who had never played organized sports before arriving in Canada.
The koora movement has particular significance for women. Dr. Samira Ahmed, a sports sociologist at the University of Toronto, has documented how soccer provides unique opportunities for cultural negotiation. “For many women from conservative backgrounds, playing koora in Canada represents a form of cultural adaptation while maintaining key aspects of identity,” Ahmed explains.
This was evident when I visited a women’s-only practice in Mississauga organized by the Al-Noor Cultural Center. Players wearing everything from track pants and t-shirts to modified athletic hijabs moved confidently across the field. Fatima Kareem, who coordinates the program, noted how it bridges generations. “We have mothers who never had the chance to play in their home countries now learning alongside their Canadian-born daughters. It heals something across generations.”
The influence extends to viewership patterns too. During the last World Cup, sports bars across Toronto, Vancouver, and Montreal reported unprecedented numbers of patrons gathering to watch matches featuring Morocco, Tunisia, and Saudi Arabia. The Royal Canadian Legion Branch 13 in Windsor, Ontario even partnered with the local Lebanese Cultural Center to host viewing parties that attracted hundreds.
Canadian sporting goods retailers have taken notice of this demographic shift. Sport Chek now stocks jerseys from popular Middle Eastern clubs like Al-Ahly and Zamalek, while independent retailers like Koora Gear in Edmonton specialize in equipment and apparel specifically marketed to Arabic-speaking communities.
Public institutions are adapting as well. The City of Toronto’s Parks, Forestry and Recreation Division now offers materials in Arabic explaining permit processes for field usage—a direct response to increased demand from community koora organizations. According to city records, permit applications from Middle Eastern community groups have increased by 45% since 2018.
The cultural impact flows both ways. Longtime soccer administrator Margaret Wilson, who has worked with the Ontario Soccer Association for over two decades, notes how the influx of players with koora backgrounds has enriched Canadian soccer culture. “These players bring a passionate approach to the game, along with technical skills developed in countries where kids play constantly,” Wilson says. “It’s elevating the standard of play across the board.”
Back at Sherwood Forest Park, as evening approaches, the pickup game winds down. Parents arrive, greeting each other with the easy familiarity of shared experience. Mohammed’s seven-year-old daughter Leila, born in Canada, dribbles with impressive control for her age.
“In Arabic, we say ‘koora btjma’na‘—soccer brings us together,” Mohammed tells me, watching his daughter. “Here in Canada, it’s doing exactly that. But it’s more than bringing our community together—it’s building bridges to the wider Canadian society.”
As families pack up their gear, conversations flow seamlessly between Arabic and English—much like the game itself now flows between cultures, creating something distinctly Canadian in its multicultural essence.
