Hardly a month after wrapping up a successful run of Rwanda-based sessions, it was time to head back to the football-loving continent of Africa. Next on my list was Ethiopia. 

I called a bit of an audible on this trip. Originally, the plan was to head to Karachi, Pakistan. In fact, my tickets were already booked and paid for before I realized that my seven day trip was falling right smack in the middle of Ramadan.

With all day fasting in the 99% Muslim country, I knew any sort of physical activity, especially a football program, would be out of the question. It was a struggle to find a second option, but eventually I stumbled upon Ethiopia. Yes, there would be a large number of the country observing Ramadan. There would also be a large portion of Orthodox Catholics and Protestants going about their day-to-day routines all the same. So, it was decided. I triggered a refund on my Karachi tickets and rebooked them to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia with a quick stopover in Turkey.

Two long, but uneventful flights out of the way, I touched ground in Addis. Eager to finally find a shower and bed, an unfortunate turn of events saw my luggage being the literal last three on the belt.

To make matters worse, even though I could see the exit doors to the arrival hall just in front of me, before I could reach them, a customs officer pulled me aside and proceeded to go through all four pieces of my luggage. He dug through everything, throwing my footballs on the floor, jerseys on the shelves, leaving no stone unturned.

Luckily, this had been planned for ahead of time. I had come prepared, wielding a customs document graciously prepared by our partners for the week – Hold My Hand Foundation. The foundation, headed (and founded) by Mikayas (Mikky) Fedaz, provides food, education, and shelter to a number of kids in Addis Ababa. Besides that, though, their premier program is the football portion of HMH’s work, where Mikky has started teams for U13, U15, and U17 boys, as well as a U16 girls group, and even an adult “divisional” level.

For obvious reasons, Mikky and I clicked almost immediately. In fact, he had video called me as soon as he saw our collaboration proposal. We took a week to iron out the details, but once things were firmed up, all that was left was for excitement to run its course.

With my early Wednesday morning arrival, we had originally planned to hit our first session on Thursday afternoon – a double with Hold My Hand’s 35 U17 boys. However, Mikky called his own audible and asked if I’d be available at 4 o’clock on Wednesday to run the session instead.

Body jet lagged and mind tired, I hit a 6 hour nap and waited at my apartment’s front lobby for Mikky to scoop me up. We would be heading eastbound towards Beshale High School, where the U17s typically train. Unlike the night before, Mikky’s rav-4 was completely full of new personnel. I hopped in the front seat and was quickly introduced to the various age groups’ coaches sitting in the back.

We chatted easily and openly, talking about life, football, religion, and more. The car had two Arsenal fans (Mikky included), one Manchester United supporter, one Madrid loyalist, and one Liverpool fan sitting in the passenger seat (me). This was a real melting pot of characters you could say.

Turning to my left, Mikky and I chopped it up about our charities, why I started mine and why Mikky started his. He beamed as he spoke of their work, recently celebrating ten official years since Hold My Hand’s inception. It came as no surprise that, for Mikky, the foundation was very much a labor of love. Serious talk shifted back to footy chatter as Mikky shared how he had been an Arsenal fan for nearly 20 years.

“Wait, Stephen, how old do you think we are?” asked the young coaches sitting in the back.

I poked fun at the lone Arsenal supporter sitting in the middle of the two. “You know bro, Arsenal will do that to you… dude would look 60 but is only 21 years old, Arsenal really ages you man…” I said with a laugh, as the boys returned some of their own.

As we spoke of the forthcoming session, I was told that out of all the age groups, the U13 boys were the ones in need of the most help and resources. I smiled to myself, knowing we’d be hitting a weekend session with them in just a few days. That smile widened when Mikky shared that the divisional team had had a game earlier in the morning and he had brought two of the bigger pairs of cleats I hand-delivered from the states for some of the youngest players on that side. Apparently, the game ended in a draw.

“Well, it’s better than a loss right?” I said.

“Ah, but they could’ve beaten that team easily,” Mikky answered, knowing the level of greatness his team truly was capable of.

A fantastic get-to-know-us chat out of the way, we finally pulled up to Beshale High. When we arrived, I tried my best to chop it up with the U17s’ coach, despite an obvious language barrier. I had thrown 35 crumpled pieces of paper in a small plastic ziplock, each with the numbers 1-35 written inside. Why? Well the boys would each be drawing numbers to choose through our program giveaways – a fine assortment of professional football jerseys or brand new footballs.

Having inventoried the jersey haul filled with PSG, Milan, Barcelona, and Portugal kits, I was more than surprised to see our #1 grab a football instead of a jersey, but hey, who am I to knock someone’s preference. Luckily, Mikky provided context to the moment. “The thing is, Stephen, that’s their very own football, to keep for themselves… so I can see why they might have chosen the ball over the shirt.”

Prizes out of the way earlier than later, it was time to get into training. I’d be splitting the 17s into two groups so I could run two training sessions, with a more manageable amount than all 35 at once.

As the team’s head coach shepherded his 16 players to the other half of the field, I jumped into a few rounds and variations of our listening drill. Afterwards, I instructed the group to partner up so that we could run volleys, half-volleys, and headers from sideline to sideline, switching halfway so that both players had a chance to practice their technique.

After, we hit a 1v1 drill towards the goal before Coach cycled in his 16 players and I cycled my 18 out. For the next set, I broke into two passing lines to work on push-passes. First, two touches. Then two touches with the (opposite) weaker foot. Then, one touches. Next? You guessed it, one touch with the weaker foot. Lastly, we hit a three-pass, 1-2 variation that the kids caught onto super fast. Like I was stunned how quickly they nailed it!

I blew my whistle one last time just as the clouds broke and a transformer burst just beyond the far goal-line. We piled our things into Mikky’s car as the gentle pitter patter of raindrops massaged our heads.

We would be heading to Hold My Hand’s girls home so that I could meet some of the girls I’d be training on Thursday. Plus, we would be using the camera to take some headshots of the girls for HMH’s website. Meanwhile, Mikky and I got to talking about plans for the rest of the week.

“Stephen, I know we planned to train the U13 boys on Sunday. But it’d be really special if you could train them twice,” he said, “that would be a real gift to us.”

We began to brainstorm dates for a second session.

“How about next Tuesday?” he asked. “Mikky I’m gonna be gone! I’m flying back home.”

“Oh it’s short, just one week in Ethiopia!” he replied.

“Of course bro, just for football!” I answered.

Ultimately we decided on a double session the next day, Thursday, with the U16 girls followed by the U13 boys. Business talk out of the way, it was time to relax. HMH coaches and I all gathered around the dinner table, we took down some mugs of ginger tea while feasting on local dishes prepared by the girls’ housemothers.

My coaching assistant thoughtfully taught me how to eat the popular Ethiopian “injera”, guiding me through the steps just like he had done in training barely an hour prior… Coach demoing it first, then myself like the boys having a go on my own.

When I tell you guys this man tried to feed the injera directly to me! I laughed and wrapped my arm through his like a pair of newlyweds would as the both of us, Mikky, and the girls bursted into laughter. As Mikky kindly drove me back home to Megenagna, I was now the one gushing about the day’s session.

Mikky, in return, showed an immense amount of gratitude for the resources we had provided Hold My Hand – jerseys, boots, shorts, and especially, footballs.

“Stephen, this is such a gift, as you know footballs are very expensive here in my country… about $50-$60 for a good quality Molten ball.”

He pointed out some unbranded ones hanging from a bag in the street.

“Cheap ones like that run about $4-$5, but they won’t even last until nightfall,” laughed Mikky.

“So, Stephen, for these gifts you’ve given us we are so grateful.”