South by South America 

Page 2 of 8

When Qiana showed up at soccer tryouts her senior year of high school, she really didn't know what to expect. She had good memories of the game from when she played briefly as a young girl. As a teenager, she didn't remember much about the technical aspects. But, because she'd played basketball throughout school, she knew she could, at the very least, outrun everyone on the field.

Ironically, though, it wasn't her running that the coach noticed. When Qiana took her first shot, she kicked the ball with the power of a player going in to make a field goal. As it happened, her innate skill and strength gave her a competitive edge that made her a shoo-in for the team. So, without a lot of fanfare or additional technical training, Qiana soon found herself on the field wearing a royal blue and white Lady Bobcats jersey. She became an inaugural member of the varsity girls soccer team for Seneca High School. She even got to appear in the Seneca Daily Journal with her teammates. Her grandmother clipped the photo.

John F. Kennedy International Airport was abuzz with activity at 4 a.m. on Monday, Feb. 4, 2008. Qiana had flown from Atlanta into New York the night before for the first leg of her trip. Now, having checked her bags and making it through the security checkpoints, she was at her gate. Her stomach was a ball of nerves.

Glancing around, Qiana noticed that most of the other passengers were Brazilian and traveling in pairs. "Great," she thought. So much for having someone to talk to. To distract herself, she unzipped her black Eastpak backpack and pulled out her laptop. She popped in the DVD of The Wire that her former co-worker at one of Atlanta's largest law firms had given her -- it wouldn't load. By now, it was after 7 a.m. He'd be heading to work. She decided to call him since any diversion was better than none at all. The two had been chatting a few minutes when the gate attendant began announcing boarding instructions -- in Portuguese -- for her flight. Qiana was thankful for the English translation that followed.

This was it. She'd gone all in on her dream. The fast-tracked young professional, who had been agilely climbing the corporate ladder wearing uniquely tailored black Maxi Studio suits and two-inch heels, was finally leaving for Brazil to play in championship soccer tournaments with one of the premiere women's clubs in Rio. She gathered her things, and glanced over her shoulder as she entered the tunnel to board her plane. This was do or die.

As her plane made its final descent into Tom Jobim International Airport in Rio, Qiana let out a sigh of relief. She hated to fly. It had been a long trip. Thirteen hours in the air, two layovers and three airplanes. Enough was enough, especially since the Dramamine hadn't helped her get any sleep. Folding the navy blue airline blanket and setting it on her seat, Qiana fluffed out the soft curls of her blondish-auburn afro and waited patiently. When it was her turn, Qiana bent down to retrieve her backpack from under the seat in front of her and moved into the aisle.

It was just before midnight. As she slowly inched toward the exit, humidity from the Brazilian night snaked in and began to coil around her. The black Old Navy jacket that had kept her insulated from the frigid New York City air and the plane's air conditioning, now felt like a thermal blanket in July. Upon emerging from the plane, Qiana was bustled to customs along with the other passengers before finally being directed to a waiting area. With deliberation, her eyes explored the expectant crowd.

"Qiana!"

A balding man of slight build hastily stepped forward. Qiana immediately recognized him from the photo she'd seen online. The gray-haired man with metal framed glasses was her new soccer coach. More tentatively, two young women, who appeared to be in their late teens or early 20s, moved forward as well.

"Tudo bem?" ("What's up?") they asked, greeting her.

"Tudo bem?" ("What's up?") replied Qiana smiling.

"Fala portugues?" ("Do you speak Portuguese?") one of them asked.

"Sim mais o menos." ("Yes, more or less.")

Everyone laughed. It immediately struck Qiana that their complexion was much fairer than the Brazilian women shown in American media. She was also awed by their long, Rapunzel-ish hair. As they headed to the car, Qiana learned that the women were her teammates, and one of them, Pam, was her host.

Once outside the airport, the night engulfed them. Climbing into the backseat of the coach's hatchback Citroen, Qiana knew that this was going to be unlike anything she'd ever experienced. The ride into the city was fairly quiet. The coach made small talk by asking questions about the flight and the temperature in New York. Pam contributed an occasional comment while the other teammate, who spoke very little English, simply stared out the window. The silence didn't bother Qiana. As she gazed outside, warm air licked her face. She wanted to take it all in and pondered the thought that she was probably the only person from Seneca in the city -- and grinned.