After the match we go to Libertador. Its 20 blocks from Suárez. I run next to Fidel who is riding injured on a bike.
The pavement ends and we enter the Villa Libertador. There is a straight road to Fidels house, the only one in the Villa more or less. On both sides there is a drain. Its not from there, but there is a certain flavour that I never smelled before. A mess of cables is hanging above the road. "The electricity and television cables, self installed," tells Fidel proudly. " Its a new neighbourhood, not a Villa, you know."
He constructed his house himself. Its in between the other constructions of wood and metal sheets. He has some walls out of bricks, an exception in this five years old neighbourhood. I see that every part of land is already confiscated alread. Nothing is free anymore.
Teresa stands with her daughter Nadia in the door opening. We greet her, lay dawn our bags and move to the kiosk where all the other football players are waiting for us.