I am not a man who has, or tries to have, many enemies. However, since starting Around the Worlds many years ago, I’ve developed several. Among them: traffic, customs, and as of late – weather, which reared its ugly head at our most recent set of sessions.

Only a week into the trip, I wrapped up my time in Kenya and caught a sprinter van over the border to Arusha, which is the town at the Tanzanian entry point for Mt. Kilimanjaro. By now, I have plenty of PTSD from land border crossings. While running sessions in southern Africa, I was left stranded by my bus at the border between South Africa and Mozambique, forced to fend for my own and hop in a public van filled with livestock on my way to Maputo, the country’s capital. Luckily, this crossing was much smoother, and I came well-prepared. I flew through every checkpoint from the Kenya exit, to Tanzania entry, and past customs, arriving in the first handful of passengers back on the bus.

My first impressions of Tanzania were net positive. The people were incredibly friendly, quick to offer a wave, a “good morning”, or most popularly, a “jambo”, which is Swahili for “hello”. Kids, as most kids are, were curious, asking me if I was a teacher, a coach, or some combination of the two. I settled into a remote little AirBnB, located atop a winding, dirt hill unreachable by vehicle. 

Days passed and I moved throughout the city, getting acquainted with my surroundings. I was set to work with two organizations while here: Arusha Youth Development Organization (ARYDO) and Faraja Orphanage. Both are located on either side of the city’s downtown area. 

I was in contact with the ARYDO organization lead, Sam, ahead of my trip, and he was incredibly receptive of a possible collaboration.

“Let’s do 10 a.m. with the kids, as they have school during the week,” he told me.

With Thursday and Friday free, I proceeded to relax and settle in, taking plenty of breaks from my inflating of around 25 soccer balls. Finally, Friday night came and with it, plenty of excitement for the next day’s session. Excitement that unfortunately was short-lived due to public enemy number one: the weather. I woke up at 7 a.m. to the pitter patter of rain outside my window. The rain, as expected, left my road and the roads leading up to it a mess, a landslide of sorts. I texted Sam in a nervous frenzy.

“Hey Sam, I know it’s raining so just keep me posted about our session today. I’m still very interested in making it happen – if you have any suggestions or options for us. Thank you!” The text was sent at 7:15 a.m.

“Any updates Sam? Still monitoring the weather here at my house.” I sent this at 8:30 a.m.

A phone call without an answer at 8:45 and another unanswered call at 9:00. My heart was sinking. I made the mistake of checking the weather and was gutted to see the weekend’s forecast, which included rain on Saturday, rain and thunderstorms on Sunday. With an early morning bus ticket back to Kenya on Monday, and a flight to Qatar the next day, there was absolutely no room for error. Anxiety spiraling, I was already catastrophizing, stuck in a worst-case scenario mindset. “What if I just booked a ticket, bought a visa, came to Tanzania, only to not be able to run any of our programming?” I thought.

“What a waste if I could’ve just given our equipment out in Kenya to our other beneficiaries?”

I was in bad shape, and the agonizing wait for a reply wasn’t helping either. Hope was dwindling more and more, as I realized my texts to him weren’t even delivering, just stuck in WhatsApp purgatory.

With one bag under each arm, 17 footballs in tow, I sat on the back of bodaboda (a motorcycle) to take me to Burka Primary School where we planned to hold the clinic. Adding to my stress, the driver got lost! I could not catch a break at all. Finally, we pulled up to the field and a man approached me from center field. As he got closer, I could see a smile on his face.

“Sam? Is that you?” I asked. He nodded his head. “Stephen, I’m sorry about this morning. I thought I had turned my cell service on, but realized I had not.”

I couldn’t be bothered though because Sam was here and the field was absolutely dry!

“It didn’t rain at all on this side of town,” Sam said.

All that anxiety for nothing!

Squaring things away, we planned out the day’s schedule. I was guest-coaching the U13 side for a half hour, followed by the U15s for the next half. Before jumping into it, Sam was nice enough to introduce me to the team’s coaches: Coach Jamali, Coach Ashiraph, and Coach Said.

Before starting, the U13s all ran up to offer high fives and handshakes. I could see it in their eyes though, they wanted to play, as did I. We hit a very very quick iteration of our listening drill before splitting the group in half to work on our passes, volleys, and headers circle drill, half the group around the circle, the other half inside it.

“Come on boys! High intensity, high energy. Let’s finish strong!” I’d yell out, as Coach Jamali encouraged them similarly.

Once we’d wrapped that up, it was time to move on to the older group. We started with passing lines, two touches, one touch, and then one-twos. As expected, the boys absolutely smashed this one.

Then, we all partnered up, including a coaches group featuring yours truly and Coach Ashiraph. We demoed the next go-around. There was a line of cones at midfield, and another line around the top of the 18. Alternating in both directions, partners would move backwards, one partner passing it underhand to the next, who would drive volleys back to him with the right and left foot. After this, half volleys. Then, thigh control to volley, followed by chest control to volley. Closing it out, headers. I couldn’t help but smile, looking at my ball control partner, Coach Ashiraph, smiling from ear to ear as we moved through the drill.

Boys successfully worn down, it was time to break into our 1v1 chase drill towards goal. There was high intensity and high energy, with each blow of the whistle another breakaway chance at goal. Finally, already 15 mins over our initial hour-long session time, I called Coach Jamali over so the boys could scrimmage for the remaining 15 minutes. He divided the teams as I called both captains in to begin the match.

“Okay boys, like this,” I said, miming a game of rock, paper, scissors with my hands.

“1, 2, scissors”

Draw.

Next… “1, 2, scissors”

It appeared the boys were literally just playing “scissors, scissors, scissors”. It was clear they were unfamiliar with the game. I didn’t hold it against them, and instead started the scrimmage off in a less traditional manner, with the ball lodged in between both of their backs. 

Done with coaching duties, I retreated to the sideline to observe the scrimmage, ever-so-impressed at the boys’ ability to move the ball around and spread the field, never hesitant to play it negatively or to hit a long switch. Finally done for the day, I called the boys in from both teams for one last important task. I was hoping they would be willing to sign a Tanzania football jersey I bought the day before, which would be another one for the collection.

I hadn’t bought a jersey overseas for the kids to sign since back in Egypt nearly a year prior, so I was excited to grab another collector’s item, as long as the kids obliged me. They excitedly crowded around, and even the coaches lent their autographs to the piece!

When our time for the day finished, I hopped on the back of Sam’s motorcycle to help transport our equipment back to ARYDO’s office. Close behind, the kids would be making the mile-long walk to the center, each carrying the remaining 10 footballs. 

As we walked across the field while the U17s broke into a scrimmage, I watched on affectionately as the boys would walk only a few steps before standing there in place to practice balancing the ball on their neck as I had shown them barely 45 minutes prior, just to continue back on their merry way. In between it, a glance over at myself met with a smile and a thumbs up, almost to say without saying, “Keep going boys, you’re doing a great job.”

Once settled down at the office, Sam was excited to tour me around.

“That’s one of our most talented boys,” he said, a look of pride painting itself on his face, “he now plays in the Tanzanian Premier League.”

“Amazing!” I answered. “How about national team players? Have you had any of those pass through your ranks?”

His smile grew larger, as he nodded his head. “Yes, that same boy is currently with the U20 national team. We’re very proud as they’ve just now qualified for AFCON.”

Our game of guess who continued as Sam asked, “Who’s that?” pointing at a strapping, young man on the right side of a team pic. “Wait a minute,” I said. “That’s Coach! Coach Jamal…” he said, before I could even think. Coach smiled and it was uncanny, the same facial shape, same posture. The photo was just from a few years back.

My eyes continued to scan the room as Sam pointed out some of their most prized possessions, mainly trophies won from prestigious tournaments. Then, reaching the bottom right corner of the office bulletin board, I couldn’t help but do a double take. On it, a photo of one of ARYDO’s teams surrounding a fair-skinned, European man. At first glance, he seemed just a random guest, but upon further inspection I realized he was far from it. No, this was not just a random visitor or volunteer. This was a starboy of club and national team caliber. The man at the center of the photograph was none other than Frenkie de Jong, who played for F.C. Barcelona and the Dutch National Team.

My eyes wandered around the office, from trophy to trophy, and picture to picture, but they could not stop reverting to the photo with FDJ. “That’s big time stuff!” I yelled out, feeling loads of secondhand pride for the ARYDO crew. Certainly, though, a moment that didn’t come without plenty of hard work ahead of it. That was clear ever since my first words with Sam, they were going to do everything they could to make the next generation exceed both in football and in life. They’d been doing it for nine years now with a team of 10 volunteers, and they certainly weren’t stopping any time soon. I guess, they were a lot like us, in that way. Both organizations were founded nine years ago with a team of 10 volunteers.

Sam beamed as he expounded on their work, running sessions at a local school for deaf youth, along with supporting many, many other partners within the community. We hopped back on his motorcycle because I was treating him to lunch as a thank you for coordinating our morning full of sessions. First though, we detoured through town to see the school of the deaf, as well as the biggest football stadium in Arusha.

While at the latter, Sam managed to gain field-level access and I excitedly walked onto the pitch, soaking in the atmosphere.

“As you may have seen, the whole town is buzzing because later tonight the “East African derby” will be played,” Sam said, referencing the country’s “El Clasico” to put things in understandable terms.

Those teams, Yanga and Simba, both based in Dar-es-Salaam, had fans all across the country. The game promised to be a spectacle, one that hit incredibly close to home for Sam. Believe it or not, one of the many hats Sam wears was that of a FIFA-certified referee. He had even reffed SIX derbies as a linesman (AR).

I couldn’t believe my ears. “How did that even happen?” I asked.

“Back when I was in primary school, all my classmates were playing football and the teacher said, “We need someone to officiate!” He stepped up to act as referee and as they say, the rest was history. After graduating, he decided to take it seriously and moved up the ranks, getting all his certifications to be a linesman.

He continued to share stories from his memory bank, the pain and struggles of a referee. “It’s tough, you know, because if the home team wins, everyone loves you, but if they lose, well, nobody wants to talk to you. That’s the life of a referee though, you can never win! You can only do your job.”

However, he saw that his experience had potential for an exchange of wisdom and made sure to not let that opportunity pass him by. “I actually, with my U15 boys, I teach them a bit about refereeing just so they can understand the game a little better. I use my expertise in that field to help them improve in theirs,” he said. Certainly, a poignant thought.

Having now reached Arusha’s main football stadium, Sam was proud to have the connections to open the field up for me to tour. I imagined it, packed with fans, imaginary team chants ringing in my ears, as I walked onto the field and felt the grass under my sneakers. He introduced me to a jolly fellow who happened to be his “boss”, a chairman for ARYDO and a higher-up staff member at the stadium.

“Good to meet you, Stephen,” he shared. “Did you know we had a game here last night?” he asked. I was gutted. “I wish I knew!” I yelled out, a wasted opportunity to watch some Tanzanian National League footy for only $1-$2 a ticket. The home side had even won!

“I wasn’t even doing anything last night!” I cried out, knowing the extent of my plans was literally just sitting at home watching Netflix.

“Tell me, my friend,” I said, turning to the chairman. “I know the team colors for tonight’s derby are green/yellow and red/white. I want to be Switzerland tonight, I’m trying to be neutral so as to not fall in between the crossfire.”

“Wear black my friend, so no one can question your allegiance,” he shared, as I looked forward to finding a spot to catch the game later on.

Back on Sam’s motorcycle and heading towards my street, I couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear at how the day had played out. From the anxiety spiral of bad weather and possible program cancellations, to an amazing set of two sessions with some incredible kids. It had been an excellent welcome to country #63 for Around the Worlds, thanks to a fantastic partner in Sam and ARYDO.