This was set to be my first time back in Guatemala since before the pandemic began. I have always tried to hold sessions there every three years and was doing a good job following that. Our organization held programs in Guatemala in 2016 and 2019, so I suppose in a sense I was right on time, especially given that those two prior visits were also during the fall as well.

I was used to running programs with a boarding school called Orfanato Valle de los Angeles and they were on the list for later in my trip. I decided to add in some new beneficiaries and set up two additional programs with two new organizations, to then be followed by a weekend run with Valle. I breezed through customs, grabbed a quick sandwich for lunch, and called an Uber to my apartment, which was a little bamboo cottage in Zona 10.

I have never visited Guatemala alone, so I was certain adventure was on its way, but I was fond of the idea of having a bit of privacy, a need to explore, and being a bit closer to our two new beneficiaries. My first night was quiet and tranquil, falling asleep to the pitter patter of a calming rainfall hitting the metal roof of my cabin. The next day was more or less the same as always, watching Netflix while inflating nearly three dozen soccer balls for our programs in the coming days. After finalizing some last minute details, Wednesday arrived and with it, our first session in this Guatemala-based run.

“Esteban, y tú cómo te llamas?” I responded.

“Mucho gusto,” I replied to each of them.

Once it was time, we jumped into the session. I prepared for about 19 participants, but we ended up with an even dozen as some kids had school and couldn’t attend. This ended up working perfectly since the extra soccer balls from this one would be carried over to the next session so we could give every participant in that one their very own ball. I originally expected a need to do a mix of bags and soccer balls. Even though I was gutted by the smaller number of participants, it was easy to see the good in a change as such. Kicking things off, I set up our listening drill as the kids scurried to partner up.

After, we switched to relay races – as I demoed stepovers and other techniques for the kids to imitate. It came time for our saltando variation, the one where the kids gotta jump like penguins and as I scanned the crowd in front of me, I knew we might be in trouble.

The youngest girl in the session, Luisa, had such short legs that I couldn’t imagine her being able to hold the soccer ball in between her knees, despite having a smaller one on me.

“I have an idea!” exclaimed one of the teachers.

She disappeared into Casa Ohana only to come back clutching a blue plastic ball. It seemed a good fix, but even for little Luisa it was still not going to work. The 4 and 5 year olds ended up just jumping like penguins to the other cone while holding the ball high above their head. It wasn’t quite the same, but I told myself it was going to have to work.

After we were through with this one, I made sure to keep the plastic ball on hand since I had a feeling we’d be reusing it for mano o cabeza just to be mindful of these young kids performing headers. During the relay races, something really beautiful happened. The older kids in the session were running back and forth from starting cone to end cone helping guide their smaller and much younger teammates through each technique. Juan Carlo, the son of Casa Ohana’s director, even stepped in to lead one team that had been falling behind in the competition. It was really beautiful to see. Seeing that the kids were struggling a little bit, I made sure to slow things down, opting to practice each exercise thoroughly, making sure everyone was on the same page before starting the real thing.

Throughout, I continued to watch Juan Carlo closely – I admired the way he interacted with the kids, the younger ones especially – and I was certain he had a heart for these kids the very same way his mom did. I watched him go as far as to lift his teammates’ legs up individually to perform stepovers, which I couldn’t help but get a kick out of. Later on, one of the older girls could be seen doing the same during our ball control exercise, though this time she was helping her line perform headers, cocking her teammates’ heads back before pushing it forward to head the ball back to me. 

“Profe can we scrimmage?” one of the boys asked.

“Of course!” “I need teams of six!” I yelled, everyone scurrying to assemble their squads.

The game was spirited, with penalty kicks, goals, handballs, world-class saves, and more. I watched from afar as Luisa and Mackenzie, the two youngest ninas in the session, ran around the field with the biggest smiles on their faces. About midway through, Juan Carlo tapped me on the shoulder, asking if he could join in “I’ll join the team that’s losing, if that’s okay profe?” he asked politely.

We paused for a water break, as I took a minute to chat with one of the boys – Joseph was his name.

“Profe I’m a fan of Messi, Ronaldo y las cremas,” he shared proudly.

“Oh thank god,” I said to him, “I was going to bring a player from Los Rojos and we could’ve had some trouble here,” I added, with a laugh. Los Rojos are his team’s crosstown rival.

Water break over as quick as it began, we moved back to the pitch to finish our scrimmage off. The score 3-3, I told the kids the next goal would win it all.

“Ah profe,” interrupted my captain, “Can we do penalties instead? It’s better I think,” he said – a statement seconded by others in the group, Juan Carlo too.

“Ok! Vamonos!” I yelled.

Shortly after the shootout, we played our iconic game. The two mano o cabeza winners each received custom Guatemala-colored bracelets. One of the youngest boys, Ilian, always had his head looking down and his eyes to the ground ready to do a header no matter what command I gave him. Despite questionable technique he did still end up going quite deep in both rounds!

Following a little wrap-up charla, I told the kids we had a ball for each of them – but there was an order we had to follow.

“Ok first, our two mano o cabeza winners!” I yelled out.

“Ok next, my captain!” the kids responded with applause.

“And next, the goleador!” Joseph rose to his feet.

“Gracias profe!” the kids squealed, trading a hug for their new soccer balls.

“Gracias por mi nueva pelota,” sweetly whispered a younger girl not much older than Luisa and MacKenzie.

As I prepped my stuff and called an uber, Juan Carlo’s mother, Maria Fernanda, who I had been in loose contact with since June of this year, gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. I told her I was super impressed with Juan Carlo and his help throughout the session. I couldn’t be too surprised given his parents, who I had both met midway through the program, were two incredibly genuine and nice human beings themselves.

“Thank you again Stephen, our doors are always open for you here at Casa Ohana,” she said, as she helped me to my Uber waiting just outside the towering, colorful doors of Casa Ohana.