Limpio, Paraguay (Part 2)

Ahead of our most recent trips, I’ve been forced to tackle my surroundings in a bit more prepared manner. This means, setting up sessions well ahead of time… we’re talking months in advance. With those sessions, a check of the weather as well. Of course, our sessions can only be as successful as the weather allows them to be.

I had done likewise here before arriving in Asuncion. I mean it wasn’t quite the rainy season, but the month still averaged around 12 rainy days in recent history. I figured I’d test my luck, plus, from what I’d heard the forecast in Asuncion is as unpredictable as any and a streak of “downpours” could easily not play out as such.

Unfortunately, this time the forecast seemed to go exactly as planned. As predictable as any. Needless to say, I was gutted. I had traded rain in the US for rain in Paraguay. Sure, the weeks before my arrival in Asuncion were scorching hot. We’re talking 40 degrees Celsius. But at that point, it’s really just a “pick your poison” type of situation.

“Before you arrived, we didn’t have a single drop of rain for three straight weeks,” I had been told. See, here’s the thing. Heat I can deal with. Because heat still allows room for adjustment and with that adjustment, room for football. We could start sessions earlier, or run them near sundown. We could change venues, search for places with ample shade. But rain… rain makes its own rules. And unfortunately, as the saying goes, when it rains it pours.

So, I’ll let you in on the original plan. After a successful first week of sessions despite the prior Thursday’s cancellation, Lupe shared the plan for the new week. On Monday, we would be driving all the way to the countryside, el interior del pais, about a four hour trip to una zona not anything like Asuncion – first to a little area called Santa Rosa.

The sessions would essentially be a whole other level from the ones we had just held in Limpio and San Lorenzo. We would be leaving early Monday, around 8 or 9 AM, to arrive in time to run an afternoon program at 3 PM. Then, the next day, we would drive to another one of Alda’s focal areas to hold one more session with another group of beneficiaries.

Finally, we’d return back to Asuncion on Wednesday in order to hit a quick nap (and hardly anything more) before my 5 AM Thursday flight back to the states. Against my better judgment, I took a look at the forecast on Sunday night. Rain… and LOTS of it.

A downpour Monday, a downpour for the majority of Tuesday too. Then finally, like a light at the end of a tunnel, clear sunny skies on Wednesday. Unsurprisingly, I woke up on Monday to a text from Lupe. She had been in contact with their partners in Santa Rosa regarding the rain. It was a long, four hour drive away and not a safe one with heavy rain falling. We continued to monitor the situation, waiting an hour, assessing, waiting another hour, assessing yet again, rinse and repeat. Finally, Lupe decided that the cards simply were not in our favor and called an audible for that one sunny Wednesday.

“We’ll either have to leave for Santa Rosa Tuesday night to hold the two sessions back to back on Wednesday, or leave early Wednesday morning to do it all as a day trip and arrive home just in time for your flight.”

I won’t lie, I wanted to bring our curriculum, I wanted to bring this collaboration with Alda to the countryside, I really did. But man. The ask was becoming tougher and tougher. I could hardly imagine an 8 hour round trip drive mixed in with three hours of sessions, and I wasn’t even going to be the one driving! Adding to my guilt, the kids were excited. Like REALLY excited. Like estan bien emocionados, super pendientes los niños. At least that’s what Lupe had been told, and given the school’s reception in Limpio the week prior I cannot say I was surprised.

“If you’re down, I’m down,” I told Lupe, as we decided to continue monitoring the situation before making a decision.

Tuesday rolled around and with it came more rain. But around noon time, everything changed. The sun peeked out and the clouds cleared up. It was a beautiful day. So much so that I went on a long 30-min stroll to find some ramen for lunch. With our original plan to leave for Santa Rosa around 7 PM, I decided to check in with Lupe. Her news wasn’t super ideal… even though the sun was shining here and equally so there, the fields were absolutely drenched. Those communities essentially rest in the valleys of the countryside, meaning that roads stay flooded and fields stay soaked long past their typical drying time.

I was bummed.. bummed to leave the kids hanging, but I guess also relieved for what certainly would’ve been a jam-packed itinerary.

“Stephen, we will be going back to Limpio instead to set up two classes there at one of the schools, along with Reuben,” Lupe said.

Soaking in what was left of Tuesday’s sunny day, I retreated back to mi casa to inflate the remaining 12 footballs I had. I bagged them up carefully and laid out a jersey and shorts for the following day, including a little blue Barcelona number.

“I’ll pick you up at 7:45,” said Lupe. We would be leaving early to arrive on time for the 9 AM session despite Asuncion’s heavy traffic.

Following the 10:30 close of that first program, we’d have a second one around 1:30 with our luckiest group of beneficiaries. Wednesday came and I won’t lie, I was excited. Excited to see the sun once again. Excited to be back running sessions after an unintentional near-five day break from them. And excited for our participants to leave the sessions with some special treats to symbolize the experience for them, ‘un recuerdo’ if you will.

Lupe and I headed north towards Limpio, scooping up ALDA’s marketing extraordinaire – Belen, on the way. We arrived right before the kids, as 17 flew out of their classrooms stopping just in front of Reuben in order to check their pre-registrations for the session. Finally, it was time to start!

We jumped straight into a different variation of Around the Worlds’ listening drill – one where the kids (paired up) had a ball between them. They had the option with this to run the listening exercise normally. But when “verde” or “naranja” was called out, they had to run either to their left or right to retrieve the corresponding cone faster than their partner. It was good, clean fun and I ran a few rounds of it before switching over to ball control grids with two teams of around eight participants.

An older boy was generous enough to help run the other grid, and was rewarded handsomely for his trouble with a brand new Nike “Oakwood Soccer” 1/4 zip. His boys too, the tallest and oldest in the session, made off well too, receiving another 1/4 zip and a black Nike jersey complete with sponsors and a number on the back. From ball control grids, I put out a call for un portero and organized the kids in front of me for passing and shooting lines.

From there, as is customary in Paraguay, well anywhere, really, we finished with a 20 minute scrimmage. Reuben noticed that the group was split right down the middle and posed a question, “boys versus girls?”

“Are you okay with that?” he asked me, and the group as well.

“Of course! As long as they are,” I answered.

“Si profe!” the group chimed out in unison.

I took my place at center court as arbitro and got things started.

The kids were moving, all running around as fast as they could, and the score quickly ran from 1-0 to 2-0 and well beyond. Just like our session the Wednesday prior, the program concluded in a nice little patch of tree shade, with crackers and fresh orange juices provided courtesy of ALDA for the kids to enjoy. Then, they received their drawstring bags, to be used both in and out of school. Some of the kids had younger hermanos watching the session and were lucky to leave with our surplus of equipment too!

After waiting for each child to be picked up, we bagged up all the footballs and then began to make our way to Alda’s field office. We would be chilling there until around 1 PM, for the start of session two. How would we pass the time? By talking and eating, of course!

Lupe had a surprise. We would be walking just down the dirt street to “Epi” – a bubbly woman with a heart for cooking. Her meals came highly-recommended, and it seemed an Alda staple to eat there at least once as a volunteer.

“Say less!” I said to Lupe, “ya tengo hambre.”

We made the five minute walk and sat down at a plastic red table. Epi greeted us warmly, extending a hand and later dropping a huge plate of comida in front of me.

It was oxtail carne, with a side of bread and yuca, complete with a cold rice/vegetable salad mixture. And man… when I tell you, it was riquísimo. I ate that whole plate up and washed it down with a pomelo flavored soda. I hadn’t even finished my plate and I was already jonesing for another!

“Epi…. Te lo juro, this is the best meal I’ve had since I arrived here and I’m not just saying that.”

I turned to Lupe and chuckled, “I almost want another plate para llevar for my dinner later, and then two more for my flights tomorrow!” I headed over to Epi’s office to settle the bill. I offered to pay for Lupe’s lunch just as a means of saying thank you for all her hard work in bringing the football sessions to life despite Mother Nature’s roadblocks – both literally and figuratively. The total bill? For two plates full of meat and delicious sides, along with two bottled drinks? 30,000 guaraníes. Hardly four dollars.

“Seria vale la pena to take an Uber all the way here from Asuncion (una hora mas o menos) just to eat Epi’s food!” I said to Lupe. Safe to say, I was a fan.

Returning back to the field office with a bit of time to spare ahead of session two, I changed my clothes and reapplied sunscreen. Lupe and Reuben had caught a bit of a burn on their noses from the morning session and I knew the afternoon would be bringing only more sun and more heat to our football field. Reuben warned me that the numbers would be on the larger side for this second session, but the players would mainly be between 8 and 9 years old. I was down for the challenge, plus I knew the footballs could be used as leverage in case of bad behavior (although that never happened).

Originally planned for 21 participants, we would be shifting the goalposts to field about 25 kids – “don’t worry though profe, I have some of the footballs you brought last week that we can give out,” reassured Reuben. The kids all registered and ready to go, wearing their favorite kits, their prized football boots, and more – Reuben hit a quick introduction, detailing some expectations for the session, while I gave the kids a loose framework of what we would be doing and working on.

“Okay guys! To start things off, each of you need your own ball,” I said.

Step one finished, I directed them toward a square grid composed of orange and green cones.

“Dale, amigos, you see this space? We’re going to be dribbling in here but you cannot dribble outside of the area,” I said.

“Control the ball, take care of it, and use your eyes to navigate the space,” I added. “Then, later on I’ll add in some other rules.”

I gave my whistle a tweet and they were off. I forgot that this age (8-9) tends to run around like bees, in swarms more than anything, but I just kept encouraging them to utilize the entire space, because there sure was a lot of it.

*tweet!*

I called the kids back in.

“Okay guys, when I blow my whistle you are going to stop the ball. But you’re not just going to stop it with any old part of the body. You’ll stop it with whatever part I call out.”

“Vamos!” they responded.

“Pie!” Easy enough right?

“Mano!” Even easier.

“Boca!” Now we were talking. With every command I made sure to survey our field of 25 kids, making sure every mouth was resting on top of a football.

“Tienes que dar un beso a la pelota!” I yelled out at those reluctant to follow the rules.

My voice in need of a rest, I called over a young participant to pull a yellow captain’s band over his matching yellow shirt. His name was Melvin. Now, from the jump it was pretty obvious that Melvin wanted to be a captain more than he knew HOW to be a captain.

I explained to him the rules of the activity, all he would have to do was yell out a body part when I blew my whistle. But then, I would blow my whistle and he would sit there confused.

I decided we would just prepare ourselves earlier. As the kids were off dribbling, I’d turn to Melvin and ask him what body part he was thinking of yelling out. “Hmmmm” he said, in deep thought. “Rodilla?” he said, a bit timidly.

“Si Melvin, but yell it out so we can hear you okay?”

He was very reserved and it reflected in his voice, but after a couple turns let me tell you that boy was yelling. Little man was talking in uppercase letters now.

I gave him back his ball and circled the kids up again within the grid.

“Guys? Remember earlier during our introduction I told you there would be opportunities to win a prize? A special one? Well… right now we have one of those.”

Their eyes got big.

“Listen, all of you need your own ball. We’re going to be dribbling within this space, but you also want to try to kick your opponent’s ball out of the area while maintaining control of your own.”

This was our king of the hill dribbling exercise that I hadn’t been able to run for quite some time because of a lack of soccer balls in our sessions. This would be a doozy with 25 kids and a tiny grid, but I was eager to see how it might play out. At first, the kids seemed content to mind their own business, controlling their own ball, but hesitant to kick anyone else’s out, but finally the competition amped up. Boys were leaving their ball in a corner and chasing after the rest of the active players.

After a couple of minutes only one athlete was left standing. A boy named Rodrigo. I disappeared for a second to grab a drink of water, while leaving Reuben with a task – to split the group into three even teams.

“Bueno amigos ahora tenemos unas carreras,” I said.

I held the captain’s band in my hand – now, who can give me an example of un truco called la bicicleta?” I asked.

A boy donning a full Paraguay National Team kit raised his hand and I called him forward, first placing the band around his arm. Then, exactly as asked, he ran to the first stationary ball and did three stepovers – carried out perfectly. I urged the kids to applaud him and continued this theme of positive reinforcement throughout the relay race portion of the session. We ran through zig-zags, more controlled dribbling, sole of the foot dribbles, and more. The kids were fully engaged. They were sweating, cheering, even jumping up and down in excitement to try and win each individual round.

The parents were involved too, as one particular parent, a father with both a daughter and son participating, helped keep order and direct the kids when my Spanish instructions fell a bit short. I was grateful for his help and the session could’ve easily unraveled without his (seemingly) small intervention. We wrapped the relay races up and quickly organized the kids into two teams for a 15 minute scrimmage. With one eye on the game, I turned to Lupe and Reuben to discuss how we might best conclude the session.

I had cut up pieces of paper with the numbers 1-26 earlier, and was going to have the kids pick them out of a hat to determine an order to choose soccer balls. Normally this would be a non-issue, but we had two different types of soccer balls, two designs, and I thought maybe the kids would have a preference. However, we didn’t have enough time for this supermarket cold cut line method of distributing take-away prizes. I gathered the kids up in front of me and had them sit down for a final charla.

“Hey guys, so I hope you enjoyed the football class. Ojalá disfrutaste el taller de futbol, ojalá aprendiste algo? Raise your hand if you did,” I said to the crowd.

“Chulear” (to dribble) was a popular response, one I was unfamiliar with as it’s essentially slang local to Paraguay.

“How to be a captain,” said a couple of my acting captains for the day.

“How to shoot,” said a younger boy.

“How to use my head,” said a younger girl.

“How to control the ball,” was the final response before I quickly shifted over to show (and teach) the kids a neck stall.

“Do five pushups!” they said.

“Okay… but you have to count!” I answered.

“1… 2… 3… 4… 5!” they said, before I popped back up to my feet.

Then, I called four participants ahead to copy what I had just shown them… and man they did it just as perfectly. It was awesome. From there, distributing soccer balls is always associated with a bit of chaos so I tried to do so as organized as I could. I called forward Rodrigo first, our king of the hill winner. Then Melvin, our first captain. Then the captains of each team from our relay race portion of the session. Then I turned to Reuben, and told him I had no idea how to determine the order after and he graciously took over.

Session two ended just like the morning session, with the kids resting under the comfort of a tree’s shade, snacking on some well-deserved post-program snacks, but this time, holding a ball under their arm with a big smile on their faces. Parents, picking up our young athletes, made sure to stop by and thank me, while school administrators also offered their gratitude. “Tenemos que tomar una foto!” I said to the school’s director, before snapping a quick shot.

“Is it a Polaroid camera?” asked one of the youngest participants after we took a flick together, “no bro, I wish!” I said, with a laugh.

The parents were just as friendly and happy as the kids, and man did that make me smile. As we packed things back up and began the trip back to Asuncion, I couldn’t help but beam with joy as we drove past the familiar cows grazing the fields of Limpio, but also the kids biking and walking down its dirt roads… this time with a new accessory on them – a new ball.

Lupe and I continued to chat about the past week, as she recalled a meeting she had had the day before with some representatives from UNICEF.

“They said it was a huge success, and they were especially grateful for the addition of your football station,” she said. I was overjoyed! “I passed your contact information along to see if you might be able to do something similar in another country, like Equatorial Guinea or Venezuela,” she added.

The thought itself made me smile, considering just how big a draw a name like UNICEF has in this field. Lupe kept going – “in fact, we’re holding a similar event in Luque next Tuesday, trying to register more kids to return to school… UNICEF asked if you would be available again, but I told them you would already be back in the states.”

“Ah que pena…” I said, having been more than willing if not for a lack of time.

My time in the country down to its last dozen hours, I headed back to my airbnb ahead of a late dinner and an even later flight back to the states. The venue was El Lido Bar, a place around for nearly 200 years, boasting the tagline “just like if you went to Paris and didn’t see the Eiffel Tower, did you really go to Paris? If you went to Asuncion and didn’t visit El Lido Bar, you really didn’t go to Asuncion.”

Lupe, Reuben, and Reuben’s wife Camila, were all in attendance and we spent the better part of 90 minutes recounting the past week’s events. Reuben, as always, brought his gift of storytelling into the mix as we exchanged tales of our travels around South America… finding level ground in our affinity for Peru and its cuisine, while he shared stories of his favorite country – Bolivia. In front of us, we enjoyed a typical Paraguayan meal of croquetas, sopa, chipa, and more – a perfect last meal before trading Latin flavor back for American cuisine.

More than happy with how the sessions went, I made sure to thank Lupe for making them come to life. I was hopeful too that we would still someday make it out to the countryside for the programs we’d left pending this time around.

“Don’t worry,” she said with a smile. “We must always leave things behind to come back for: in this case, un asado y nuestro viaje al interior.”

I flashed a smile back, “Claro que si!”

And with that, I hopped on my flight to Colombia, with country 58 in the rear view. A country filled with incredible people, delicious food, and beautiful memories – both on and off the field.

Ciao, ciao, Paraguay!