I am back in Cabo for programs, after nearly nine months of being away from this city. It is not the best time to visit this part of Mexico because it is the tail end of storm season and having been here during a storm with no power, no water, and streets flooded, I can tell you it is not fun. Luckily, I checked the forecast before coming and it was 80s and sunny all week, vámonos! I got my bags at the claim and stepped into a customs line, knowing what usually happens next.

I approached the customs officer, “Cigarros, tobacco, alcohol?” 

“No, amigo” 

“Ok, press the button.”

I pressed the button and held my breath and partially felt like I was in the Squid Game. The light flashed once. *Red*

I put my bags through the scanner, and immediately two officers approached me. I showed them a document from one of the charities we partner with down here, addressing our collaboration, the itinerary, the resources we were bringing, etc. It was from a year ago, but it’s always better than nothing.

“Donations?” an officer asked.

“Yeah, for the kids in the colonias,” I responded

“Ok, you can go this time,” the other said.

“But in the future…” he started. 

“Is the letter not the right way?” I interrupted. 

“Almost,” he answered. 

“It’s close, and it’s good to have – but the charity you work with here has to register with us so we can give them paperwork to fill out for your entry with donations,” he finished. 

“Ok bueno, thank you amigo. Hasta luego,” I said, barely looking back over my shoulder and beelining towards the exit doors.

With that out of the way, I got on the bus and began the hour-long ride into town. From there, I hopped into a cab to my apartment, chopping it up with my driver about life, footy and everything in between along the way. I arrived at my Airbnb and searched frantically for a doorbell, but there was none to be found. It was high noon and the sun was beating down as I sat there sweating in long pants and a polo.

One dog emerged from behind my house’s gate and started barking. Then another two followed behind until five were sitting there staring at me, barking as loud as they could, yet somehow not loud enough to alert my host that I had arrived.

Fifteen minutes passed. I had tried every wifi network at this point with the wifi password I had been given, yet no luck there. Fifteen more minutes passed. My shirt was drenched by now, sin dudas. A police pickup truck pulled up in front of the residence. If it weren’t for my luggage in tow surely I looked like I was trying to break into this home, which I mean, having tried the padlock and gate door several times I suppose I sort of was. They questioned what I was doing and I told them I was staying here but had no way of contacting my host or connecting to the Internet and there was no doorbell in sight. 

At that moment, a girl emerged from the back of the driveway and approached the gate, apologizing frantically and profusely. She let me in and I yet again didn’t even look over my shoulder before finally dropping my bags and myself into my room. With all that out of the way, I enjoyed a relaxing day in the city with some quality tacos and an even higher-quality nap after a 4 a.m. wake up that morning.

I contacted our first community partners, Feeding Los Cabos Kids, and asked my friend Brenda if I could drop by the office the next day to store some equipment. The office was barely 5 blocks away, so even if I didn’t have much to drop off, it was worth the trip to say hello to an old friend from our last program here at Ellie’s Kitchen.

The next day I was heading to the beach shortly after, so I arrived at the FLCK office with a bag with a beach throw, sunscreen, and hat scattered between stacks of soccer balls. I greeted Brenda and we began to discuss the plan for Thursday, program number one.

“The kids are going to eat in the morning, so we can run a session before that if you’d like? How much time do you need?” she asked.

“Just like 70 minutes,” I responded.

“They have 15-17 kids here, is that okay?”

“Perfect,” I said. “But I do have some more soccer balls… is there anything we can do with them? I brought 30.”

“If you’d like, there’s another kitchen serving food around 10 a.m. as well… they have lots of kids there so maybe we can do some quick games for prizes or you can raffle off the soccer balls before they leave for their classes.”

“Works for me!” I responded, enthusiastically.

Finally, Thursday came around and I woke up bright and early to meet up with Brenda around 830 a.m.. I wasn’t completely full of energy, but that certainly changed after a cold shower at my airbnb. It was advertised as having “hot water”, but apparently not any longer than the first second I stepped into the shower. I arrived at the FLCK office with ten already inflated soccer balls in a garbage bag slung over my shoulder. We loaded Brenda’s car and made our way towards Comedor Cactus and the first program. 

When we arrived, it was still early so kids were just beginning to file in. Two became four and four became eight in almost no time. We started with the eight and reached about a dozen once the program had already started. I chose a young boy to be our captain, who eagerly helped me set up cones and ran a few rounds of our listening drill after following my initial lead.

Once we had exhausted our listening drill, we broke into two small teams for relay races and dribbling techniques. The dirt street we were playing on was a dead end, but every once in a while a car or a water truck would pass through. Then, we jumped into mano o cabeza to populate a list of winners. Obviously we had enough resources to give to everyone, but it’s always fun to introduce some competition and give kids an incentive to work harder in this case, first dibs at the soccer balls and bracelets.

The kids collected leftover soccer balls and cones and loaded them back into the car since it was time to rush to Comedor Tierra y Libertad and program number two of the day. We drove through winding dirt roads and tight corners, over intentional and accidental speed bumps, past chickens, and more. Finally, we pulled up to the kitchen and parked within its metal fencing. The place was already packed with families all ready to receive a warm meal, the same warm meal I was offered by Brenda. 

“I’m sure you’re hungry, Stephen, you can have a plate if you’d like,” she insisted, saying that those in the kitchen cooking had already prepared a plate.

I was still in the car, inflating the remaining stragglers of our set of 30 soccer balls. Curiously, kids departed from their plates and seats to look through the car window, excited for the “surprise” Brenda had told them about. Once they had finished eating, the kids all brought their dishes over to a small sink to wash them, then helped clear their tables, stack their chairs, and sweep the small, covered playing space we would be using God forbid the ball rolled over a piece of chicken or a clump of rice. A group of age-appropriate kids were selected, and we began our session, first with an introduction from Brenda.

“This is Stephen, he is here to run a soccer class for you guys. He has been teaching soccer in almost FIFTY COUNTRIES!” she said. 

“Ooh! Wow!” the kids said with eyes wide.

I began with my usual introduction, making sure the kids knew some details about the session, what techniques we would be focusing on, and more – while also reminding them that I would need their energy, their attention, and their respect. 

“As long as I have all three of those things, we have some prizes for you guys.” I whispered secretly. 

“Ooh, okay Profe!!” they responded loudly.

First, our active listening drill with groups of two. Then, some relay races as usual. Next, a NEW game!

Back in September, I was at a party with my family. There was a potluck, cake, and plenty of kid-friendly games enjoyed by more than just the kids. For instance, I saw one of the adults running a game where two people would go head to head in a race against each other. One had a line of four water bottles in front of them, as did the other, with one single, ninth water bottle centered at the end of both lines. Each contestant would have panty hose wrapped around their head, with a tennis ball in one leg of the panty hose. The objective was simple: to swing your head like an elephant, no hands could be used as they were behind each person’s back, and knock over the water bottles in order, before then moving on to the ninth one.

• 

• 

I was singled out of the crowd to play the game against my father. I wish I could say I let him win, but he definitely beat me fair and square. We laughed and we smiled and a lightbulb flickered in the back of my mind…”we should try to somehow introduce this in our programs,” I thought. I reached out to some friends in the soccer space for advice and inspiration and received a surplus of it!

One friend, Gabby, a UConn Women’s Soccer alum, was so excited at bringing our version of this party game to life, that she even sponsored the purchase of four rebounding bands we used to use as kids that would strap around our waist or our hand with a ball on one end so we could always pass the ball to ourselves and work on ball control and touch, even without a passing partner. Basically, the plan was to replace the water bottles with soccer balls perched atop cones. Then, using Gabby’s bands held near their forehead, each with a soccer ball at the end of it, the kids would mimic that same swinging motion to try and knock the balls off their cones, one by one. But to introduce teamwork to a game typically designed for head to head competition, the kid in the front of the line would run to the first ball, knock it off, run back to his or her team, the second person would try the second ball, and so on and so forth.

This being the first time we’ve ever done this drill, I was prepared for absolute chaos, but it never really came. Instead, we heard giggles, we saw smiles, and we heard PLENTY of cheering. Obviously, there are some kinks that need to be worked through (kids swinging more so with their hands and arms which was effective, albeit cheating), but it seemed like we already had a good foundation and might’ve stumbled upon a new mainstay in our curriculum!

Throughout the program I kept periodically looking to my left, shifting attention between our participants and the company they kept – their parents and younger siblings. Parents were holding little kids and babies while cheering on the older children from the same seats we had stacked up earlier. It was a whole family affair! How heartwarming and nice.

Finally, after the mano o cabeza winners were chosen, it was time to distribute soccer balls. I had 18 on me, so we had enough for every family, considering some participants had siblings also involved in the session. As each winner approached me, extending their hand for a high five before digging through the pile for their choice of ball, I began to notice a pattern. Strangely enough, the larger soccer balls weren’t being selected. Instead, kids were opting for the small size balls. They are cute though no lie, so I can’t really blame them. Scratching my head, Brenda turned to me and said that these older siblings were choosing mini balls that they fully intended to give to their younger siblings sitting off to the side who were unable to participate.

We had run a bit late, so Brenda asked if it would be okay if I tagged along with her for a few errands. We had to visit another kitchen to drop off clothing donations, before visiting a bakery to pick up a bunch of donated goods.

“Sure, Brenda! No problem with me,” I said with a smile. “I have zero plans for today, all I was going to do was go to the beach, but I’m always happy to help you out” I added.

We loaded up boxes and boxes of donated cooking goods into the back of her car, playing Tetris in her trunk as my arms began to grow sore. The bakery had generously donated a bunch of butter and a sweet spread (Nutella-like) for the kitchens to utilize. Once we finished that, we headed back towards town and the FLCK office to drop the donations off into their freezer. I shook my arms off and got right back to work. I had offered her my help so I was surely going to see the entire operation through. Plus, Brenda and I had spoken about getting lunch, so I knew that a hearty meal was on the other side of the heavy lifting I was currently doing. Finally, we were en route to my favorite restaurant in the area – Pollo de Oro. I eat there at least once a day, usually twice on this particular day.

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

Cheap prices, good eats, and plenty of locals – that’s how you know it’s the good stuff. We sat down and ordered, I made sure Brenda knew this was my treat. 

“If you can remember, the last time we worked together in January, we got stuck at a roadblock driving back into town. It took us about an hour longer than normal to get here, so I just went straight home, but I had always wanted to treat you to lunch to thank you for helping bring our program, this collaboration, to life,” I told her. “Now I can finally do that, I can finally say thank you.”

Over lunch and a huge pitcher of Agua de Jamaica, Brenda and I chopped it up about anything and everything for nearly an hour’s time. I told her about my plans for the rest of the year as well as the charity’s plans. She told me about her family and her holiday plans. We talked about the different cities we’d been to in Mexico and around the world. She’s originally from CDMX, el DF, so I ran down memory lane talking about some of our programs there from the past year and change.

She told me how she’s been working with FLCK since 2016 and how she started as a volunteer with her daughter. I told her we first worked with FLCK back in January 2016, so we literally must have just missed each other. We discussed the possibility of running more programs together in San Jose de Los Cabos – where she lives, and where FLCK has several more kitchens. After lunch, we walked back through town to the office to load the final bit of donations (clothes, food, and more) back into her car. No lie, my forearm definitely cramped up but I played it cool and trudged along!

“Would you like water?” She asked. “Gatorade? Here take a couple,” she said, stuffing my hands with a bunch of cold beverages. “If you want, I can drive you a couple blocks down the road so you’re closer to your home,” she told me.

“It’s been a long day, I definitely won’t say no to that,” I said with a laugh.

We reached my street, Calle Libertad, and I leaned towards Brenda in the driver’s seat to give her a cheek kiss and a hug, before grabbing my empty roller bag from the back seat. As I walked around the back of the car, I heard Brenda’s window descending.

“Keep shining, Stephen,” she said, with a smile as bright as the sun.