Bogota, Colombia (Part 1)

Before COVID hit, we started doing something very special and what I believed to be very important as a charity: returning to beneficiaries that we previously ran programs with. It was a bit tricky because you wanted to wait for enough time to pass by so that the resources given in those first sessions were adequately used before providing more after the second program, but there’s also something so cool about old faces returning for a new session. Plus, this was a way to see firsthand growth and progression in our beneficiaries, comparing where they were with where they currently are, and, hopefully, where they will be in the future.

Often, these old beneficiaries recall our sessions with incredibly fond memories, talking about the soccer balls they were gifted, the autographs tattooed on those soccer balls, and more, even two or three years removed from that first session itself. We started to do this in multiple countries with community partners until COVID-19 halted our progress. Now, after some repeat sessions in Mexico, Costa Rica, and the Dominican Republic earlier this year – we’re hoping to continue building on this ever so important part of the work we do.

The first stop on this year’s Colombia-based run would be Fundacion Buena Semilla. We first worked with them back in October of 2021, running four micro-sessions across a full day in Barrio Egipto. I was greeted warmly by staff members, and the kids had brought all the energy we needed to have a perfect day of programming. I still look back fondly on that October day, even though I only played a small part in the important work being done in this community. Now, I can’t get too far ahead of myself because Colombia, though filled with such amazing memories, did create a logistical challenge for our organization.

Last time I came here, and sadly, the one reason why I didn’t return for nearly a year, is because I feared I might not be welcome anymore. Last September, while passing through customs with what must have been 50-60 soccer balls I was flagged by their X-ray machine. 

“You can only bring five soccer balls, it doesn’t matter if they’re donations or if you’re giving them to the kids and charities here,” was the gist of what the customs officers said.

Customs took a photocopy of my passport, which I further feared was hanging on a wall somewhere with a big red circle around my face like a makeshift “wanted” poster. In reality, the photocopy was probably already sitting in a trash bin in their office. Alas, I didn’t want any problems, and unfortunately, it steered me away from a place that feels a lot like home. That’s on me, but I’m working through it. After all, fears are best faced head on, and the prospect seems a bit less frightening when our beneficiaries stand to benefit from facing said fears.

I collected my bags filled with 26 soccer balls and literally 60 Around the Worlds branded drawstring bags, which is a new addition to our bag of treats. The 60 same-styled bags were certain to give me a problem, but I took a deep breath and approached the desk agent. He pointed to his right in the opposite direction of the X-ray machine line over his left shoulder and said “Bienvenidos a Colombia”. I hustled towards the exit doors and never looked back.

After a few rest days in a neighborhood that was new-ish to me, it was time for our first day of programs at Fundacion Buena Semilla. I hailed an Uber to the church at the base of the steep hill leading into Barrio Egipto, which is too steep for cars to enter, only motorcycles and maybe horses. When I got there, I was met with a radiant smile belonging to Laura from the foundation. She and another staff member, Lorena, had both been instrumental in our 2021 programming – and were both on hand today to help out. As great as it is to see the kids again, it’s equally nice to reconnect with staff members I’ve worked with in the past – ones who inspire me greatly, and ones whose work drives ours forward each and every day.

We ran two sessions that day, one with the morning group, who had school in the afternoon, and another with the afternoon group, who had class in the morning. The sessions were split right in the middle by a lunch for both groups. As soon as I walked through the front door of the foundation I was met with big smiles and bigger hugs.

“Hola profe!” they squealed.

Some new faces stepped forward, “¿Profe, eres de Japon?” questioned one boy. “¿Eres Argentino?” asked another. These questions were nothing new.

Familiarity, it really is a beautiful thing.

“Oh and that’s my other friend but she left already,” she said, pointing to another girl in the photo who had likely changed neighborhoods in the last year.

I looked across the table and spotted another familiar face in a boy named Ricardo.

“You remember me?” I asked. “I think so, Profe,” he responded.

“You were my captain,” I said.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Yes! You gave me the captain armband,” he said, gesturing to his right bicep where the band had once rested.

I was chuffed, as things unfolded it looked like the day’s programs would be filled with faces both old and new. I was greeted by another, a girl named Sofia, who had shot up in height over the past year. Together, we all walked up the winding, steep hill to a beautiful turf field. The field’s net and goals had been destroyed the year prior from a storm and falling trees.

Now, it was all fixed, with a net covering the entirety of the pitch – “Oh how I wish we had this before!” I said to Laura, recalling the several soccer balls we lost at the mercy of the steep decline just past the end line of the field.

We ran through our usuals, but with limited soccer balls. I only had eight with me and only three were full-sized, so I had to improvise. Instead of our usual listening drill, I had the kids line up all facing one goal, single file. We ran through all the body part commands and then I would either yell right or left, after which they would try to run to the corresponding sideline faster than the other participants. It was fun saying things like nose, ears, the ears of the person in front of you, etc. the kids were beaming the whole time and ya know for a half-improvised drill it really wasn’t so bad!

We ran through everything else, grabbing some prize winners along the way who would be receiving their choice of a soccer ball or a drawstring bag. Then, we got into a little scrimmage – as requested by the kids “Profe, can we play a partido” they kept asking, incessantly.

Mariana ran up to me mid-scrimmage, giving me a tight hug – “Profe… no sé cómo jugar fútbol,” she said, softly.

“It’s okay, just stay here with me,” I said. “I’m taking some pictures and we can take them together,” I said – wrapping her little hands around the much larger camera.

We closed things up once the score reached five and headed back down the winding hill to enjoy a hearty lunch of Igado or liver, white rice, lentils, and salad. In between lunches, I had some time to talk with Lorena and Laura, giving both of them some small bracelets that my mother had brought from her trip to the Philippines, they quickly pulled them onto their wrists and smiled gratefully.

Three lunch cycles completed, the next group of participants flooded through the front doors of the foundation. Yet again, more familiar faces. One of them, nicknamed Ñoño, the eldest of the bunch, was quick to remember – “Yes, Profe, you gave me a ball! I still have it!”

“Really, what color?”

“Azul! Profe, see!” he quickly added after seeing an old picture of him clutching the same blue soccer ball from last year. Ñoño and I continued chatting as he finished his lunch. “What’s that?” I asked, gesturing towards a scar on his right wrist.

He told me how he broke his wrist falling out of a tree. All he said was something about a tree though. “Wait, did you fall out of a tree or did a tree fall on you?” I asked, a strange, but necessary clarification. I pointed at the big scar on my left arm as we traded broken bone stories.

“What hardware do you have in there?” I asked him.

“Three holes and two screws,” he answered.

Not to be outdone, I told him I had five holes and four screws in mine! Unashamed, I told him how it had happened. “I did a bicycle kick and put my arm on the ground and it snapped.”

“… and you want to know the más triste part about it?” I asked. “I didn’t even score!” I said, pretending to cry but laughing it off with him and the other boys.

We broke into the program usuals, just as well received as the year before – a new-ish crowd, yet the same old song and dance – same giggles and everything. Curriculum and myself pretty much exhausted, we decided to head to a scrimmage. One team, captained by Ñoño, was noticeably stronger, so I deployed myself to the opposing side.

Ultimately, after the better part of 20 minutes, the scrimmage finished 10-9. We were holding our own quite well until our team’s best player stepped in cow excrement, which was littered across the entire field, adding its own spin to an already lively day of programming. After falling victim to a rogue pile, he stepped off the field to clean his shoes and never returned to the game, likely out of spite. I mean the young man was wearing some Air Max 90s, white ones too! I can’t blame him for saying nah to football after that, which would’ve ruined my day too.

Before heading back to the foundation, Laura and I along with some of the niños took a detour to Buena Semilla’s new mirador – a beautiful balcony overlooking the city of Bogota. Just below it, four small gardens designed to teach the kids the tricks of the trade. As we exited the lookout, Barrio Egipto locals were just as friendly and warm as I had remembered them being last year. One man, presumably a father of one of Buena Semilla’s beneficiaries extended a hand and introduced himself, “Welcome to Colombia,” he said in English, as I shared how happy I was to be back

It was the same exact type of warmth from a year ago in a community that does not have the best reputation; however, it is a community that always welcomes me with nothing but love, gratitude, and care. For that, I’ll always be thankful.