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"They Are the World: Highland High soccer team represented by 10 nations"

11/14/2018

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This is my high school, where I too played soccer. I’ve always been proud of the diversity we had at Highland and how it shaped who I am and what I do today. It sounds like the breadth and depth of the diversity has just gotten more beautiful. Great story! 

www.abqjournal.com/1230234/highland-team-comes-from-all-over.html?utm_medium=Social&utm_source=Facebook#Echobox=1538918603


They Are the World: Highland High soccer team represented by 10 nations BY JAMES YODICE / JOURNAL STAFF WRITER
Saturday, October 6th, 2018 at 9:24pm

Players in the Highland High boys soccer program, such as those posing for this photo, come from around the globe. Many of them are among the 64 refugee students at Highland, more than any other public high school in the city. (Roberto E. Rosales/Albuquerque Journal)

Claude Nsabimana came to Albuquerque from Uganda. In his native land, he and other kids often would make a soccer ball out of plastics — including condoms. Copyright © 2018 Albuquerque Journal From near and far – emphasis on far – Highland High School has a boys soccer program whose roster is a veritable United Nations. The players have journeyed to Albuquerque from an island in the Caribbean. From various points in Mexico. From Asia. And from locales – Kampala, Bujumbura, Kinshasa, Kigoma, and Yaounde among them – that would neatly fill out an “African Cities” category on an episode of “Jeopardy!” “We call ourselves ‘The Family,'” said Angela Williams, the community liaison at Highland. “We look after each other.”

To say that the Hornets’ soccer teams have an international flavor to them would scarcely do the school justice. Sprinkled throughout the varsity and junior varsity, Highland has players from no fewer than nine countries (and 10 if you count this one). Overall at Highland, there are students from no fewer than 23 countries. From the Hornets’ varsity and JV, there are 15 foreign-born players and 17 American-born players, coach Nick Madrid said. “We have many players, although they’ve played soccer for most of their lives, they’ve never had any formal coaching, or much structure from a team environment,” said Madrid, Highland’s first-year head coach. “That exact aspect is what creates so many of the challenges. I didn’t even realize how big a of a challenge that was going to be.”

​The students from Africa are, largely, refugees who fled the continent due to things like poverty and war. Williams said there are 64 refugee students at Highland, more than any other public high school in the city, and collectively they speak over two dozen languages. “Instead of refugees, we call them newcomers,” said Williams, herself German-born. All of the foreign-born players speak multiple languages; several speak at least three tongues. One player said both languages he speaks are English. Explanation on that forthcoming. And consider that during any particular game, the odds are good that multiple languages will be heard among the players on the field. “It is really confusing,” said Nigel Mwamba of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, an 18-year-old senior defender for the Hornets. “It’s complicated,” added 15-year-old junior Brandon Okumu, a JV midfielder from Nairobi, Kenya. “When you ask for the ball, it’s ‘hey, hey, hey!’ or ‘ya ya ya!’ ”

Highland’s record this season is 5-6. The Hornets were a state quarterfinalist in Class 6A last season. Spanning the globe Uganda, Burundi, Antigua and Barbuda, Mexico and the Congo are countries represented on Highland’s varsity. From the JV, you will find players from Syria, Tanzania, Kenya, Mexico and Cameroon. Armelle Begoto and Fabrice Nambona are brothers from Yaoundé, Cameroon. “All the family have different last names,” said Nambona. Other family members, like uncles or cousins, he said, name a new baby. They arrived in New Mexico 21 months ago as refugees knowing nothing about this state or their new city.

“When I came to school here, I had nobody to speak French to,” Nambona said. He also speaks Sango, a more local dialect. He is a student, and student aide, in a French class at Highland. While Nambona has been playing soccer for many years, his brother only took up the sport a couple of years ago. The American-based team concepts of soccer are radically different from the environment in Cameroon. “Here, when you miss practice, they don’t beat you,” Nambona said. “If you miss practice (in Cameroon), they beat you with a stick.” Players of his social status, anyway. “Rich kids in Cameroon give the coach a lot of money so they don’t get hit,” he said. For Mwamba, from Kinshasa, the largest city in the Congo, “too much war and stuff,” he said, describing how his family came to be relocated to the States, which first involved a move to Zimbabwe. “The situation wasn’t really good. My dad sold everything we had to make it to Zimbabwe.”

While Mwamba speaks three languages – English, French and Swahili – and misses some of the creature comforts of home, he has come to enjoy this chance to play organized soccer. And to sample New Mexico’s famously diverse cuisine; he has developed a hankering for enchiladas, for example. “I was, like, ‘Wow, this thing doesn’t look familiar,’ ” he said with a smile. A new home As with so many of these Hornets, soccer in their home country lacked the type of structural support seen here, and certainly there were no fields or parks similar to what they have access to at schools in Albuquerque. Claude Nsabimana, a senior midfielder/forward from Kampala, Uganda, that country’s capital city, spoke of days when he and his friends had to literally make a soccer ball, much of it out of plastics. Including condoms. “We could play in the streets most of the time,” Nsabimana said. “We had no money.”

“If somebody gets a ball,” said Mwamba, sitting nearby and listening in, “we just start playing.” Of course, Nsabimana said, one of the tricks was to keep the makeshift ball confined to the street. If it got launched into somebody’s yard, or over a fence, there was a serious risk that “somebody would steal it. We stop the game.” Brandon Okumu’s father moved to Boston from Nairobi, Kenya, some 15 years ago, and later took up residence in Albuquerque. The family remains split between the U.S. Southwest and eastern Africa. Brandon lives with his father, aunt and brother, but his mother and sister still live in Nairobi. Okumu, who can converse in English, Swahili and Kisii, spoke lovingly of playing soccer in Kenya, starting at age 2. For him, much like Nsabimana, it was necessary to fashion a soccer ball out of whatever materials presented themselves. In his case, mattress stuffing – to give the ball some bounce – then covered in paper and thread. “They (the balls) are expensive. We just didn’t have the money to get it,” said Okumu, a junior midfielder on the JV who plans to remain in this country after he graduates from Highland. He intends to become an ophthalmologist.

Ibrahim Al Rahmoun and Abdulfatah Al Alwan are juniors on the Highland JV and cousins who came to New Mexico from Idlib, a city in war-torn Syria. Arriving in Albuquerque, and at Highland, came with obstacles. “My first day, I don’t know how to say, ‘How do I go to the bathroom?’ ” Al Rahmoun said with a smile. Syria also had a dearth of soccer balls, the cousins said. So they improvised. “We use basketballs, volleyballs just to play,” Al Rahmoun said. “No shoes.” In America, Al Alwan said, it has taken some time to absorb the concept that there are certain governing principles in this sport. ADVERTISEMENTSKIP “You have to follow the rules,” he said, smiling. He said he had to be informed what an offsides call was. “I don’t know what that is!” Closer to N.M. Michael Stephens showed up to the photo shoot for this story in a Rio Rancho High T-shirt. But there’s an explanation. Stephens, a senior forward from St. John’s in Antigua and Barbuda in the Caribbean, used to attend school there. He is the aforementioned player who speaks two versions of English, including, he said, a type of shorthand English around the house. “In a way that Americans can’t understand,” he said with a big smile. “You’d be lost.” At Highland, the Mexico-born players hail from cities like Mexico City, Monterrey, Tijuana and Juarez.

“Even though we are from different parts of the world,” said Omar Gurrola, a junior forward from Tijuana, “we find a way to communicate with each other on the pitch.” Indeed, the general language barrier that exists at Highland is an ongoing issue for coach Madrid, and even for some of his players as they converse with each other. “All the time,” Madrid replied when asked if he sometimes has no clue what his players are saying. At a recent team meeting, Madrid said some of his players preferred to speak in their first and more comfortable language, where they are more fluent. “And another of their teammates will translate into English for me,” he said. “That is just part of how our team operates. It’s crazy.” Ebuela Shindano of Kigoma, Tanzania, exemplifies Highland’s myriad cultural dilemmas. “It was very hard for me (when I moved here), because I didn’t speak good English. I still don’t speak English very well.” To that end, this remains an open-ended query: How does a new coach create a team culture when the individuals he’s coaching come from so many other cultures themselves? Through some frustration and even occasional exasperation, Madrid said he is thankful for a shot to try to crack this puzzle, which is equal parts geographic and sociological. “I’m grateful for this diversity and adversity and these unfamiliar changes,” said Madrid, a 2007 St. Pius X graduate and former Sartans standout on the pitch. “The best aspect without a doubt is the challenge I get to face from all of this, and learning how to get through all of this and learning how to use all of this to make me better. … At times, it’s gotten extremely difficult, but I still go to bed at night and wake up grateful for these opportunities.” Appreciative is a sentiment that could also apply to many of Highland’s players – kids who’d never be afforded the chance to play organized soccer were they still living in their home countries. As he looked out at Highland’s playing field – artificial turf, but nevertheless a considerable upgrade from what he grew up on – Nsabimana reflected on his humble roots in Cameroon. “I achieved my dreams, playing on these fields,” he said. “I don’t make plastic balls no more.”

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Edgar Degas, Fridah Kahlo and Edward Curtis

8/11/2017

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From the beginning of time, all humans have sought to tell their stories and the greater human story whether through art, literature, photographs, film, biographies, or Facebook. From the Cro-Magnon drawings of Lascaux to Michelangelo, from Shakespeare to Hemingway, from Egyptian hieroglyphics to Twitter, our stories define us and our place in history. Our personal stories and lives are comparable to a minute grain of sand in the desert. But, when we tell our stories by putting pen to paper, the click of a keyboard, the stroke of a paintbrush, or the shutter of a camera, we all seek to leave something of ourselves as a mark on this Earth saying we were here.

People’s stories are so fascinating to me. Where do they call home? What were their foundation years like? What is their passion? What they do for a living? What is their family like? What languages do they speak? I am an insatiably curious person who celebrates differences and embraces backgrounds different from my own. That naturally manifests itself in a desire to hear other people’s stories. Like millions before me I also feel the need to put my story down in writing, not because I think my story is incredible, but so my children will know it and others will understand why I am who I am.

Everyone likes to tell their story because our define and shape us. My story begins in New Mexico, the enchanting state of my childhood. There the confluence of art, culture, cuisine and language was well expressed to me through the works of Edgar Degas, Fridah Kahlo, ​and Edward Curtis and helps explain why I understand the importance of diversity, inclusion, culture, and language. 

Like all of us, over the years my experiences have molded and shaped my life, my interests, and my work like a sculptor who takes years to complete a sculpture. Edgar Degas spent nearly his entire career as an almost blind painter and sculptor, crafting his mostly small sculptures in his studio at eye level. His sculptures began as rough, lumpy, wiry, and rather unrefined shapes. Despite this roughness and imperfection, Degas’ sculptures became beautiful representations of the way a form moves through space, imperfectly and yet gracefully. My life and my professional story are a bit like Degas’ sculptures. Not always smooth. Beautifully imperfect. Often fluid. In a state of motion and movement. In fact, while my interests and passions have never changed, the path to realizing them has been rough and unrefined compared to some who have plotted a traditional career course. However, there have always been strong cultural wires that have served as the foundation of that evolving sculpture.

Without a doubt, I have lived a white-privileged life. While I knew nothing different, I realize now how incredibly spoiled I have always been. I have always had food to eat, clothes on my back, a roof over my head, a car to drive, opportunities to travel, and love and opportunity at every step. Thanks to an incredibly hard-working Dad, I needed for nothing. Thanks to a highly community-focused Mom, I learned the importance of giving back. To this day, I am grateful to them that our lives growing up were without hardship and that my parents instilled in me the necessity of the Golden Rule and the importance of a strong work ethic, qualities that do not however differentiate me from any other race. Regardless, my "WASPness" has made my life much easier than many other people's in this country and the world over.

That is not to say however, that I grew up in a white-privileged school system. To the contrary. My foundational years growing up in Albuquerque exposed me to some of the most diversity I have yet experienced. Not just ethnic diversity, but socioeconomic diversity as well. Diversity, language and culture have categorically shaped my perspectives and interests, and made me who I am today.

My cultural explorations began in pre-school and my early childhood years. My immediate next-door neighbors on either side were a Filipino family and a Chinese family. One of my best and longest friends was my neighbor Ben. I remember sharing dinners with his family and eating delicious homemade Chinese food that his live-in Grandmother made. There, I learned that it was completely appropriate to eat rice out of a bowl using chopsticks with the bowl practically attached to my chin! It was a welcome divergence from the traditional American table manners expected at my house. I remember looking at the beautiful Chinese characters on scrolls and artwork throughout his house and wondering what they said and what they meant. The moral of treating my neighbor as myself was an easy and natural one with the Chen family that extended out to my community as a whole.

My school years taught me the importance of respecting others who might be different from me. We lived in the suburbs and our parents were huge proponents of public schools. Given our district, my brother and I attended highly diverse inner-city public schools. The hit television series "Breaking Bad" takes place in Albuquerque and while it doesn’t represent my experience nor most resident’s experience, it is reflective of some of the drug and gang issues that surrounded us as students and inhabitants of this beautiful city. My middle school, Van Buren Middle School, was in one of the roughest neighborhoods in the city. In fact, the Albuquerque Police called the area the “war zone” at the time. During my sixth-grade year one of my classmates was pregnant and during our recess one day in seventh grade there was a murder investigation across the street, with a body in the front yard. The designated parking lot I used in high school was off-campus and was shared with the attached methadone clinic. Each morning I would walk past addicts trying hard to beat their addictions. There was a drive-by shooting just off-campus one day during our lunch hour. There was no white privilege there. There were no kids driving BMW’s to school. At Highland High School, I was among the minority. In fact, US News & World Report shows the following statistics for my high school, which likely haven’t changed much since I was there:

Student Diversity
This is the breakdown of ethnicity and gender of a school's student body, based on data reported to the government.

Ethnicity/Race Minority Enrollment (% of total)
American Indian/Alaskan Native 6%
Asian 3%
Black 5%
Hawaiian Native/Pacific Islander 1%
Hispanic 73%
White 10%
Two or More Races 3%

Total minority enrollment at Highland High 90%
Copyright 2017 © U.S. News & World Report L.P. | Data are based on the 2014-2015 school year.

Despite an environment that might make some parents sweat, I received an excellent education at Highland, graduating 11th in a class of 350. I fully recognize the influence of supportive parents, a stable home environment and a safe neighborhood in my academic success and recognize that many of the students I knew did not have those important and deserved keys to success in their lives. As important as my success in high school was to me personally, what I now recognize as the most important part of my education was that I learned to embrace and celebrate differences. I learned what diversity means from the classroom to the soccer field. I learned that you find common ground, you respect others for who they are, treat them as you would want them to treat you, and not to fear differences.

Growing up in Albuquerque is something I cherish and value how it prepared me for my experiences studying abroad in college. During a middle school class, we had to do a project that revolved around one piece of artwork and ballooned out to encompass the country from which the artist came. My chosen artist at the time was George Seurat, and then later blossomed into a love and appreciation of Edgar Degas. These early intros into art and culture evolved into a lifelong study of the French language and eventually an immersive study abroad program. Living in France with a host family, speaking nothing but French and immersing myself completely in another culture was the capstone event of my formative cultural experiential years. There I learned that there are many ways to view the world, not just the Albuquerque, New Mexico, blond haired, blue-eyed, white, Protestant, American way, and that they are all relative to our own cultural lens. I learned that just because you don’t agree with or like the way something is done in another culture doesn’t exempt you from respecting and honoring that difference. I learned to look at a culture for what it is while reserving judgement, how history, food, religion, economics, politics, education, climate and art shape it. I learned that my host mom peeled potatoes the exact same way my mom did, which was strangely both shocking and completely normal! I learned that despite our cultural differences, we all want to be loved, to love, be fed, be clothed, have shelter, be educated and to have work to provide for our families. I learned an expanded meaning of what it is to be human and that our humanity is expressed through different cultural lenses.

So, when people look at me from the outside they see a wholesome, blond haired, blue-eyed white-privileged female. But if my experiences, education and background have taught me anything it is that you should look below the surface and seek to know and understand other people's stories to really know them. To know what makes them tick, to learn their story, to learn about their passion, you must “seek first to understand and then to be understood”. Imagine how different our world would be if we all were able to do that with finesse and consistency.

My hope is that through helping others navigate cultural waters effectively through Cultural Intelligence, our world will continue to evolve towards greater understanding of each other and respect for our differences. Perhaps like Degas’ rough and unrefined sculptures, we will find beauty and grace in our imperfect humanity. All of it.

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    Professionally and individually, I am a globally minded person who is driven by a passion for language, culture, diversity, cultural intelligence, international affairs, and the medical/scientific fields.

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