Two weeks ago, I boarded a plane to Uganda. Naturally, I couldn’t leave without a few old, trusty Sovicos volleyballs in my luggage. You’d think volleyballs would just fit in a backpack. Wrong. This calls for a life hack: I deflate them with the vacuum cleaner, roll them up, and cram them into my backpack. It probably looked a bit like I was smuggling a bunch of balloon animals, but it works. And yes, I’m fully aware that this is absolutely not a method approved by Airline Baggage Department 3B, but honestly, who ever listens to baggage departments anyway?
Once I landed in Kampala, the real adventure began. From the city, I travelled to Luwero – two hours in a jam-packed matatu, with chickens literally flying past my legs as if they were playing a game of tag – and then another 45 minutes on a bodaboda. For those thinking I just took an Uber: no. This is a motorcycle taxi, driven by someone who clearly has a deal with chaos itself.
The logistical highlight: the balls needed inflating. This meant half an hour of trudging through the scorching heat to a tiny shop on the edge of the village. There we found – fortunately – a woman with exactly one bicycle pump. With my own pin, we pumped up the balls and carried them back, triumphant.
Then I arrived at a school where football and netball were the norm, and volleyball was still an exotic novelty. Perfect for a bit of Sovicos magic. I ran a few clinics and – believe it or not – the girls picked it up almost immediately. In no time at all, they were playing at every free moment, as if they had spent their entire lives smashing balls over a net.
I don’t have any photos of the clinics themselves – I was too busy explaining, demonstrating, and occasionally fishing a ball out of the net – but I do have pictures of the youngest children. Whenever the older students weren’t playing, these little ones tried out everything you could possibly do with a ball. Early learning pays off.
And so our old balls get a second life. For this batch, it was Uganda, but previously they’ve travelled to India, Tanzania, Suriname, and the Philippines. This summer, a few more will make their way to Colombia. Who knows where they’ll end up in a few years? Perhaps the moon. Perhaps a secret volleyball guild. The possibilities are endless.
The best thing about this trip? Realising that something so small – a ball – can bring so much joy. That children who had never held a volleyball before could learn their first smash in just an afternoon. That our trusty Sovicos balls are literally travelling the world, while I can’t help but wonder if they’ll ever miss the familiar wooden floor of Sporthal Steenwijklaan.
Love, Milene
