Our first stop of the morning was at a small primary school called Calcutta. We walked through a chain linked fence and were immediately greeted by one of the teachers there who told us that they had been expecting us. She directed Zac and I to an empty classroom where the meeting was to take place. We sat in plastic chairs and waited as seven other women filed into the room and took their place in a semi-circle around us. The head teacher who had greeted us explained how their principal had received a message from the school board about our visit. Mr. Kukul had come through after all with his promise, I was as shocked as I was ecstatic. We spoke to the teachers as the principal was unable to make the meeting due to a prior engagement. Zac began by explaining about Sports Servants laying out the history of the program and our mission statement. One of the teachers commented that she had seen our coaches with the children on the fields that previous summer. After Zac introduced Sports Servants and who we were, he turned the floor to me. I explained how we were going to proceed from this point forward and how we wanted to expand on the success of San Narciso. I handed the teacher the packet we had meticulously built the night before in the cramped hotel room along with the commitment form. After explaining how the process would work and our intentions for each school representative I opened the floor for questions. Surprisingly there were only a couple followed by a flood of support and positive feedback. It was truly amazing that this crazy plan that had come to me only yesterday by supernatural means was already in play and beginning to take shape.
Despite being an all female staff, the teachers were excited about giving the kids an opportunity to do something like this. After easing their minds about never before coaching soccer offering my ineptitude in the subject up as an example, we thanked them for their time and headed back to our car. The excitement from the day before had not diminished as I had feared may happen. Instead, our momentum was building like a single snowflake falling at the top of a mountain growing larger and more forceful as it races to the bottom. The rest of the day pretty much followed in similar suite. We visited Buena Vista and San Juoquin with much of the same results. The faculty would be awaiting our arrival as Zac and I arrived to the schools and we would hand them the packets and deliver the pitch. It was an amazing day as God's plan began to unfold before our very eyes. At 2:00 we were scheduled to be in San Narciso to visit with Jesus Ek, Mr. Morano, and the principal. We had chosen this time to offer Jesus the lead position of the local Sports Servants group.
We arrived about 30 minutes early and went to Jesus' classroom where he invited us in to watch the children do an activity. They were running around with packing tape and hand written posters that had math problems written on them. Jesus explained it was a ritual they performed weekly, tearing down last week's subjects and taping up the new ones. Until now, I had very little contact with the children. They were very cute and also curious. Many of them knew Zac from previous Sports Servants camps and were excited to see him. They were all very small for their age as Zac explained to me that the Mexicans are much bigger than the Belizeans. I video tapped the organized chaos all around me and introduced myself to a few of the braver students who ventured close enough for me to ask their names. They were all having fun tearing the translucent tape from the large rolls and helping each other put up their work that they stood back and admired when set in place. I enjoyed spending time with them.
We asked Jesus if he could meet with us and we left the children to their task. Jesus took us to an office room at the end of the building and we took at seat at the long rectangle table that reminded me of the ones we used to sit and eat our lunch at in high school. Mr. Moralis and the principal joined us shortly after and Zac began to explain the events of the week leading us to this moment. He praised San Narciso for the example it had been to the community and then once again turned the spot light on me to divulge our plan for the future. By this point my speech was refined and I recited it with a concise precision only achieved through repetition. I then told Jesus that we had chosen him to be the head of the local Sports Servants committee. He accepted the appointment in true Belizean fashion by breaking into a 45 minute conversation about the program in detail as well as relaying his vision for the future. Overall, it was the end to a whirlwind day full of hard work and miracles and a feeling of contentment and achievement fell over me like I had not felt in longer than I care to admit.
At the conclusion of the meeting the principal went outside and rand a hand bell announcing the end of the class day and the beginning of the soccer games. The bell reminded me of an episode of Little House on the Prairie I once saw where the school children were called in from recess by their teacher with the ringing of a very similar hand bell. This happened every Wednesday since the faculty had implemented the program a few months earlier. It seemed all this week I had been trying to sell a product diligently without truly being able to grasp or touch what I was selling. That all changed when I stepped out into the courtyard and witnessed a soccer field come alive. It was like a scene out of a movie. The Belizean sun streamed through the clouds of an incoming cold front and rained down on the crudely constructed playing fields. The grass was divided into two soccer fields defined by lines made not of chalk but dirt where the grass had intentionally been removed by some sort of stick or homemade tool no doubt. The goals, two sticks driven into the ground and forked at the top to allow a crossbar to rest and complete the form. The ground was uneven and patches of dirt where the play had worn the earth were scattered throughout the playing surface. In many ways it was a perfect metaphor for the country. Crude and rough, not a sight to behold to a casual passerby, yet sufficient. And those who cared to stop and really observe would discover a sense of pride and character. They would uncover a charm that not even the largest and most advanced stadium in the world could have mimicked. This field had something no professional in the world could engineer, it was beautiful and the children loved it.
The field was set and teams quickly formed. Those not playing lined the field sitting either on the ground or, if you were lucky, in a desk brought from one of the lower level classrooms. It was like the set of an ancient gladiatorial tournament with the participants and spectators alike fully engaged and anticipating the first moment of action. The games began and competition was fierce. Children cheered on their schoolmates mostly in Spanish and the players left nothing of themselves on the sidelines. When a ball narrowly eluded a keeps and hit it's mark between the goal posts, the heavens shook with an eruption of emotion and celebration followed with the familiar cry, "GOAL!" During breaks, the teachers coached and gave pep talks in an attempt to give their team every advantage for victory possible. During play, they were equally involved, directing defenses and coordinating attacks on opposing ones. I had never really watched soccer before but found myself hopelessly engaged in the action getting completely caught up in the moment even cheering on the players. As I stepped back and took in the full scope of what was unfolding in front of me, I finally realized what it was I had been fighting for all week. This is why I give money to a cause and why I took vacation and flew away from the only thing I had ever known. With the old mission building as a backdrop, an ancient symbol of a past culture that had long since abandoned, the soccer games raged on. Above all else, these games symbolized hope. A hope that a people indeed could and would rise from the ashes of a marred history and forge on to a bright albeit uncertain future. It was a perfect end to a challenging week.
That evening we took Jesus to his mother's house as Zac wanted to say hello to her. She was very ill and by all accounts dying. With very little money to spare, Jesus' father, a man in his late 60's had been working in the sugar cane fields trying to pay for the bi-weekly dialysis she needed. She and Zac had a special relationship as some of the Sports Servants money had gone to pay for some of her medical bills in the past. Jesus took me to his backyard as they talked to show me all of the plants that stocked my grocery store at home.
I found myself asking Jesus multiple questions about the plants as he grabbed a machete and headed towards a sugar cane plant. He graciously answered all of my questions for the next hour as we toured the seemingly endless selection of edible foliage. I tasted pure sugar cane, drank coconut milk, witnessed spinach on the vine and collected no less than five other types of fruits all growing in his backyard. I couldn't help but wonder if this is what the Garden of Eden would have been like. It was incredible to see everything usually reserved for the produce isle of a local Wal-mart alive and growing naturally before my own eyes. While all this was taking place, four of Jesus' relatives were preparing flour tortillas under a tin roofed shelter with a wood fire stove and large cast iron utensils. I was challenged by one of them to try my hand at mimicking their proficiency at a trade they had clearly done thousands of times before. I did a fair job of flattening out the ball of dough and fashioning it into a crude tortilla like shape. I felt like I was playing with Playdough. The women giggled and shared short laugh inducing comments in Spanish, no doubt at my expense. The tortilla turned out to be edible and was better than any flour tortilla I had tasted in the States. My over all impression of the experience was an overwhelming sense of family and strong connection. Everyone helped each other and was fully engaged in each other's lives. I couldn't help but imagine what was happening that very Wednesday night in the typical American household. The night spent hovered around the television or laptop while woofing down a meal barely noticing that you weren't alone at the table. It is no wonder our society is so detached and independent. I am not sure as of yet what judgement if any to place on the differing view points.
We dropped Jesus off at his house on our way back to dinner at Tony's and said our goodbyes as we would be leaving for the island of San Pedro the following afternoon. He was visibly sad to see us go yet clearly grateful for our help and the time we had spent together. I too was sad to say adios, so instead we agreed to say hasta la proximo, until next time. It was a memorable and life changing day. One I am sure to carry with me until I am gone.
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