Not even three weeks after opening up 2025 with a Caribbean-based run of sessions, it was back on the road for an African run in the month of February. Bags full to the brim, one of them even a couple kilos over my luggage allowance, I commuted over to JFK for a flight to Rwanda with a quick stopover in Turkey.

I’d been watching a lot of EPL games lately and it’s safe to say, the “Visit Rwanda” branding on Arsenal’s sleeves had successfully drawn me in. This wasn’t my only motivation for this run, but it certainly helped! Plus, my U.S. Passport was quickly running out of space. I was thankful to ditch it for my Filipino one on this trip, because Filipino citizens can stay in Rwanda for 90-days without a visa. However easy the entry requirements were, the itinerary was less than ideal. I had a 1:45 a.m. arrival in Kigali, the country’s capital.

Thanks to an understanding AirBnB host, the ease of rideshares in the country, and a comfortable-enough flight, I was in good shape before settling into my Kabeza-based accommodations. I was set to be in Rwanda for about 8-9 days with (at least) three set programming days, but by now you know that sleep is always the first thing on the agenda. Jetlag was hitting me like a train and I hardly managed to fall asleep before 4 a.m. for the first couple of nights. The east coast is seven hours behind Rwanda. I arrived early Wednesday morning and didn’t have sessions until Friday. I shrugged it off knowing I still had plenty of time to adjust and to prep before footy started.

I took a couple hours to inflate 20 footballs for our first session, while coordinating last minute details with my contact, a man named Kelsey. He was as professional as they come, passing along information on our planned clinic. Taking his advice, I hailed a Rwandan Uber, known as a “Move”, and began my 20 minute commute to Kabuga, 20 footballs and 20 pairs of Hummel football shorts in tow.

Arriving 45 minutes early for a quick tour of the school and an introduction to its staff members, I settled in at the headmaster’s office, chatting with him while we waited for Kelsey to get there. All the while, teachers would poke their head in to say hi. Mr. Jerome, the school’s gym teacher, excitedly stuck around to help plan out the day. The school’s headmaster, Mr. Gerald, was a towering figure, perfectly balancing professionalism and charisma. He even called the owner of the school before the session began just so I could touch base with her and thank her from my side for welcoming a collaboration.

In good news, my contact Kelsey had arrived, but on the other hand, perfectly in line with Rwandan’s unpredictable weather, rain had started to pour down and threatened to shut down our sessions before they could even start. Kelsey tried his best to remain confident. “Let’s wait it out, hopefully it’ll just be a quick rainfall,” he said, calmly. Luckily, this seemed to be the trend in this particular season.

The weather couldn’t seem to make up its mind, starting then stopping then starting again, as I grew more and more nervous we might need to cancel and look at different days. No stranger to an audible, Kelsey and I had already discussed looking at alternatives the following week, though the last thing I wanted to do was be forced to come out to Kabuga again after an empty first trip. A bit wary, I retreated back to the headmaster’s office, as excited pupils popped in and out for a quick chat between classes. To my delight, after a matter of minutes, the rain had subsided.

I sprinted down to the field, a gorgeous grass pitch perched atop a hill. Our schedule was ever-changing. Because of the weather, we had to shorten our sessions to between 30-45 minutes.  Eager to not waste any more time, I set up our first group made up of two dozen 5-7 year olds.

“Mr. Gerald, most of the students here at the school speak English, correct?”

“The older ones, yes,” he said. “The younger ones…. not so much.”

I panicked for a hot second, before he informed me that the kids’ primary language they are taught in is French. From there, I knew I’d be just fine, drawing my first group in with a “Bonjour tout le monde!” Despite being pressed for time, I managed to work through many of our curriculum’s best highlights with a very lively bunch of little ones.

“Il fait chaud,” (it’s hot) said one of the girls, quickly removing a jacket and disposing of it the first place she could find, in order to get right back to the session. I laughed because our group’s professeur quickly switched roles from teacher to coat rack, as the kids draped their jackets over his arms and shoulders with the introduction of our new friend, the sun, to the program.

The heat getting the best of us, and our second group already in the wings, I brought the group in tight to give them our program giveaway for the day: new football shorts. Despite wearing their school uniforms, the kids could not contain their excitement, ripping off their old shorts immediately, and throwing on the new ones.

“Within seconds!” said Kelsey, in disbelief himself.

The kids departed with high fives and smiles as our next group quickly took to the field. This group was a bit older. I worked with 22 intermediate level students and all of them were about 12-years-old. They arrived at the field just after taking an English exam, so it’s safe to say they were very thankful for a more-than-welcomed football break.

I was no stranger to working with this age range. I made sure to keep the kids very engaged throughout the session with constant feedback, motivation, and communication all throughout. I walked them through our clinic pillars of energy, discipline, and respect. We engaged in a discussion explaining the difference between volleys and half-volleys. I gathered answers from them regarding when it was appropriate to do specific types of headers.

If you couldn’t tell by my talkativeness, it’s fair to assume I was thankful to be back running things in English after laboring through the first session in French. I ended things with an African-programming favorite, our 1v1 at goal drill. I tallied points up for each team as the rest of the school cheered on from afar, now surrounding our field for pre-dismissal recess.

I drew the group in for a final chat, asking them to share applause first for their teachers, then for Kelsey and Mr. Gerald and lastly, for themselves because they did such a great job on the day.

“And now, as a token of my thanks, each one of you will be leaving today’s session with a brand new football!” I said, feeling like Oprah Winfrey.

The kids hooted and hollered, and excitement filled the air. Having known the feeling of handing a soccer ball to a young beneficiary many times over, I stepped aside and let Mr. Gerald do the honors, which he graciously accepted with pride. Still though, while off to the side, participants would drop by for a quick thank you or a picture. With this, came my favorite moment of the day.

“Mister,” a young boy whispered with a look of trepidation on his face. “Is this a forever football? Like, is it mine to keep?” he asked, fearing the ball was nothing more than a prop to be collected after team photos were taken.

“Of course!” I answered. The boy’s lips curled into a smile, as did mine because we both now shared the same understanding: those footballs were not just deserved, but earned as well.

And with one final handoff of a football from Mr. Gerald’s hands to one of our P6 student’s arms, it was safe to say that Rwanda programs were off to a hot start. Plus, with 38 footballs still on me and *at least* four sessions still to come, we were just getting started!