Manila, Philippines (Part 2)

Our third Philippines-based session brought us to Makati to reconnect with a familiar beneficiary, one we first worked with in 2018 and one we most recently ran a program with in January of 2023. Bahay Maria was the site of our first ever all-girls program, and seeing the girls grow into such bright, inspiring young people with each passing session will forever be a highlight for me. I remember scrolling through photos old and new with my mother, smiling with pride saying, “that girl was barely taller than my knee when I met her! Now she’s as big as (my) chest-height!”

I had been sitting on some donations from Oakwood Soccer Club for a couple months, so it’s safe to say I couldn’t wait to give out some brand new Nike women’s jerseys to Bahay Maria’s finest young athletes. The program was set from 3:30 to 4:30 on a Saturday afternoon. I was up north with my mother in Valenzuela and would be heading south towards Makati. However, I’ve spent enough time in my second home to know how unpredictable Manila traffic can be.

Taking into account Manila’s traffic epidemic, it being a weekend, and us traveling to busy Makati, I called a Grab (Filipino Uber) at just past 1 o’clock to arrive on time for the 3:30 session. Crazy right? Considering that drive would’ve taken hardly 20 minutes back in the states! We arrived well before the clinic’s start time, which was perfect considering ma was able to knock out an abbreviated arts and crafts workshop for the girls. They worked on making some cards for us to give out to other beneficiaries around the world, cards containing their names, their hopes, their dreams, and what we can only hope were timely words of wisdom.

Mid-crafting, an older girl named Sam with a familiar face and an even more familiar personality from 2023 raised a question.

“Kuya? Saan si ate?” (Brother? Where is the girl?) In this case, the ate she was referring to was Rronyth, my trusty assistant, my second in command.

“Hindi sya dito (she’s not here),” I answered. “May work na sya,” (she has work) I added.

Still, though, it was comforting to know Sam had remembered both the football class and the ones who had brought it to life.

Crafts collected, the girls ran to the wings to change into their athletic wear, but before they could reach their rooms, I stopped them in their tracks. “Wait girls!“ I yelled out, “Come here and pick out one of these first,” I said, gesturing towards a semi-organized pile of our new Nike kits.

Right on cue, a semi-organized line formed just behind the jerseys.

“I want the white one!” yelled a familiar face, Angel, who was just a tiny little gal back in our 2018 session.

Order began to turn to chaos, so I stepped in while I still could. “Girls! Please, if you can fit into a small, take a small. If you are a medium, take a medium, large, etc., kase kulang sya (because they are not enough),” I said. We had 12 kids last year, so I brought 14 jerseys to be safe this time around. This session was scheduled to have 18 kids so I was adding soccer balls as gifts for the younger kids whose bodies were still too small for the jerseys. One by one, the girls walked down the Bahay Maria steps donning their brand new jerseys, a parade of navy, blue, white, and black.

“Bagay na bagay!” (They suit you!) I yelled out, mid-catwalk stroll. They fit them perfectly. I was chuffed.

“Kuya? I still have the black Puma ball you gave me last year,” one of the older girls said with a smile. “Ooh show mo ako?” (Can you show me?)

“It’s sa taas sa third floor (it’s upstairs), ” she said, still brandishing that same smile.

Finally, once we reached the park I was ecstatic to see that the football field, complete with goals and nets at both ends, was open. Last year it had been in use for rugby practice and we were reduced to playing in the wings. I excitedly jumped into a straight line for two variations of our listening drill led by 2018 and 2023 participants – Lerry and Angel.

Just as in years prior, they mocked my Tagalog playfully, though insisting “No kuya! We like your accent, I promise.”

“Wait, how do you say stomach?” I asked the girls, as they all replied with a translation in unison.

“Dapat (it should be) ‘estomach’,” I said to the girls as they all erupted with laughter.

My commands continued. “Ulo! (Head)” I yelled out, the girls reaching up towards their own.

“Utak! (Brain)” I said next.

“Kuya!” they whined, gesturing with their hands that they simply couldn’t put their fingers through their skull to reach their “brain”.

Moving into ball control grids and then our headers towards goal drill, I noticed an older girl whose face I did not recognize.

“Anong pangalan mo?“ I asked her.

She gave me her name, to which I asked, “Wait, were you here last year? At our last football class?”

“Hindi (no),” she answered, “I just got here this year,” she said with a smile, a smile that widened when a young boy, named Niko, emerged from the doors of a school bus just in time to join the football session midway through.

Niko quickly jumped in, learning a neck stall with a big group of girls who had volunteered to give it a try. We capped things off with a wide circle for Ulo or Kamay, with the first round won by an old participant named Zenny and the second by Angel. We took a couple pictures, then swiftly made our way back to Bahay Maria as I marveled from behind at the crowd of girls all wearing their new Nike gear, as well as some pink soccer bracelets around their wrists. I talked  with a few of them, as they continued to playfully roast my accent.

“Wait! There’s this movie sa Netflix,” I told them. “It’s called English Only, Please! If you think my Tagalog is bad you should watch that one,” I said, hoping to shift the spotlight from me.

Our conversation continued, as I turned to some of the older girls to ask what their plans were.

Angel’s response came quickly and concisely, “I want to be a chemical engineer!”

Sabe ko (I said), “Wow, bakit?” (Why?)

“Well, honestly kuya hindi ako sure yet,” (Brother, I’m not sure yet). “Depende sa studies ko. (It depends on my studies). Because my real dream is to be an actress,” she added.

“Oh who’s your favorite?” I asked.

“Angelina Jolie,” she said with a grin.

I suppose it was fitting that a girl who shared half of Mrs. Jolie’s name would choose her.

“Oo naman pero dito sa Philippines sa Pinoy cinema?” (Yes of course but what about here in Filipino Hollywood) I asked.

“Ahhh Julia Barretto,” she answered, referring to a young starlet.

Conversation still flowing, Angel told me she had wanted to learn something I showed them earlier while teaching the neck stall.

“Kuya, I want to learn that one,” she said as she watched me juggle the ball in the air without it touching the ground.

“Ah kaya mo yan! (You can do it!) Just like this and honestly mas easy naman if you let it bounce between touches,” I said, teaching it to her the way I had taught it to myself years ago.

I watched on as she let the ball bounce in between touches until she got comfortable enough to find a rhythm.

“Ganun (like this),” I said while demoing it for her as she walked to my right. “At first, isa lang, then dalawa, then tatlo, etc etc. (Just one, then two, then three),” I said, as she tried her best to do the same.

Now back in the ever-familiar Bahay Maria living room, I was greeted by the incredible Sister Carmella, our first ever contact here. She introduced me to some of her friends before thanking me for visiting the kids and giving them an enjoyable afternoon of football yet again. We enjoyed some water and conversation before I decided it was time to head home in an attempt to beat the Manila traffic heading northbound. Cruising down the famous “skyway” I looked to my right, and saw the towering skyline of metro Manila. To the left, a gorgeous, blood orange sunset. Just in front of me, a pile of cards holding the dreams and wishes of an incredible group of girls we’ve been fortunate to see grow up in front of our very own eyes.

Girls who want to be flight attendants, business managers, nurses, singers, chefs, politicians, police officers, and military servicewomen. If their dreams were big, the words they wrote intended to be read by others were even greater. At only 16-years-old, Angel wrote, “All I want to say to you is to always be strong. Be brave and let courage lead your way. Always remember that you are never alone.”

Overcome with emotion, I took the cards home and sat on the couch beside my mother and my Lola (grandmother) to read them.

“They’re beautiful, dba?” mom said to her mother. “Stephen will take these next to Bosnia with him.”

Lola’s eyes perked up and the corners of her mouth curled into a smile. “Sama ka saakin? (With me?), she asked. “Joke only,” she said with a chuckle, knowing her travel days were long behind her.

I grabbed her hand back and smiled, knowing somehow, still, she’d be with me just like the Bahay Maria girls would be through their letters and words.