Something remarkable that happens when a young athlete realizes that the game they love exists far beyond the courts they know. It is no longer measured by local tournaments, familiar opponents, or weekly practice sessions. It becomes part of a much larger story, one shaped by people, places, cultures, and traditions that have been refining the sport for generations.
For Liya and Ivanna, that realization began thousands of miles from home.
Through the Weusi Community Impact Grant, the two Access Youth Academy student-athletes traveled from San Diego to Cairo, Egypt, joining two teammates for a week of training in the country that has become synonymous with excellence in squash.
The journey promised long days on court, elite coaching, and an opportunity to experience one of the world’s most accomplished squash cultures firsthand. Yet as James Dodson (Founder and Strategic Director of Weusi) sat down with the girls, virtually after they returned home, it became clear that the trip had offered something much deeper than better technique or improved fitness. It had changed the way they understood the game, the people who play it, and the role they could one day play within their own community.
Neither Liya nor Ivanna spent much time talking about rankings or results. Instead, they returned again and again to the people they met, the conversations they shared, and the culture they experienced. Their reflections revealed something that has long been at the heart of Weusi’s philosophy.
Sport is never only about competition. At its very best, it becomes a way of understanding the world through movement, curiosity, and human connection.
Before they boarded the plane, the excitement was accompanied by uncertainty. Neither knew exactly what training in Egypt would look like. They had heard stories about the intensity of Egyptian squash and knew they would be challenged in ways they had never experienced before. They packed extra training clothes after learning that sessions would begin before sunrise and continue after sunset to avoid the day’s relentless heat. Even then, neither could fully imagine what awaited them.
“I was really excited,” Liya recalled. “I knew the training would be more intense than what we were used to, but just getting that opportunity was really cool.”
Ivanna shared that feeling, although she admitted there were moments of nervous anticipation.
“We didn’t know exactly where we were going to train or who we were going to train with,” she said. “Just being given the opportunity to fly across the world was amazing.”
Those expectations began to shift the moment they stepped outside Cairo International Airport. The heat was immediate, wrapping itself around every conversation and every movement. The city felt different from San Diego in almost every way, yet neither girl remembers feeling overwhelmed for very long.
What captured their attention instead was the energy surrounding sport. Clubs were already filled with activity before sunrise, and by evening they came alive once again with children, parents, coaches, and players who seemed to organize their days around training.
For athletes who had grown up on the West Coast of the United States, where squash occupies a relatively small corner of the sporting landscape, the experience was eye-opening.
“It was part of everyday life,” Liya reflected. “Everybody was there.”
That observation stayed with both girls throughout the week. Squash was not treated as an activity squeezed between other priorities. It was a central part of community life. Young players trained before school, returned later for private lessons, and finished their evenings competing in matches.
Parents gathered around the courts. Coaches moved constantly between players. Improvement was expected, not because anyone demanded perfection, but because everyone around them had embraced the process of getting better.
Each morning began with demanding fitness sessions before private coaching and hours on court. The routines were physically exhausting, particularly in the Egyptian summer. Liya laughed as she remembered that she had packed mostly squash clothes, knowing she would spend most of the week drenched in sweat.
What surprised her, however, was not the workload itself. It was how naturally everyone around them accepted it.
Young players their own age completed multiple training sessions before returning home to finish schoolwork. There was little discussion about whether the work was difficult. It simply had to be done.
For Liya, that realization changed her own expectations.
“I want to feel more tired after practice now,” she said. “That tells me I actually put in the work.”
Ivanna also arrived at a similar conclusion. Back in San Diego, three practices a week had once felt substantial. Egypt offered a completely different perspective. Improvement was built through repetition, intention, and consistency. The standard waswas inspiring because everyone around them believed it was possible.
One afternoon, that pursuit of excellence became deeply personal.
The girls were introduced to former World No. 1 Raneem El Welily, one of the most influential players the sport has ever known. Before the trip, they had watched highlights of her matches after learning they might have the chance to meet her. Watching from a screen had not prepared them for sharing a court with her.
Liya remembers how effortless everything looked.
Her movement seemed almost weightless. She covered the court with remarkable economy, reaching every ball without appearing rushed. Every decision looked measured, every shot intentional.
“It looked so easy,” Liya said. “She moved so well.”
Ivanna searched for a different word.
“Majestic.”
Every movement seemed purposeful; the shots landed exactly where they were meant to. Standing on the same court allowed both girls to appreciate the countless hours of unseen work that produce performances which appear effortless to everyone else.
Yet the memories that stayed with them most did not come from drills or practice rallies. They came later, while sharing meals.
The group visited Raneem’s home, met her husband and children, watched football together during the World Cup, and spent long evenings around the dinner table talking about life. The world champion they had admired from afar welcomed them with warmth that immediately dissolved any sense of distance created by her accomplishments.
“It felt like we were part of the family,” Ivanna remembered.
That experience challenged assumptions both girls had unknowingly carried with them. Greatness did not have to create separation. The most accomplished person in the room could also be the most generous. Liya noticed the contrast between Raneem’s competitive presence on court and her kindness away from it.
“You wouldn’t know she was a former world champion,” she said. “She was just so welcoming.”
Those moments left an impression that reached beyond squash.
Leadership, they discovered, is not simply demonstrated through performance.
It is expressed through generosity, humility, and the willingness to invest time in someone else’s journey.
One conversation has remained especially vivid for Ivanna. During a question-and-answer session with the young athletes, Raneem encouraged them to think of themselves as sponges. Learn to absorb the information that serves you, she explained, while recognizing that not every lesson belongs to your own path.
For Ivanna, those words became one of the defining moments of the trip.
“It wasn’t only about squash,” she reflected. “It was about learning what helps you become the best version of yourself.”
That lesson continues to shape the way she approaches training today.
The girls explored Cairo, visited the Pyramids of Giza, experienced traditional Egyptian food, and spent time learning about a culture they had previously encountered only through books and television. One evening they sat together around a traditional table, making bread while local music filled the room and dancers performed nearby. They laughed together, took photographs for one another, and gradually learned when to put their phones away altogether.
“It was a balance,” Ivanna said. “Sometimes you want the memories on your phone, but sometimes you just want to be there.”
That balance became one of the unexpected themes of the journey. They documented moments they would treasure forever, yet some of their strongest memories are the ones no photograph could fully capture. The conversations, hospitality. The feeling of belonging despite being thousands of miles from home.
When James asked what felt most familiar about Egypt, neither girl spoke about buildings or weather.
They spoke about community.
“They’re really proud of who they are,” Liya said. “You could feel that.”
Travel often highlights difference, but it also reveals common ground. Families encouraging children. Coaches investing in young people. Friends laughing over dinner after long days of training. Those experiences looked remarkably familiar, even in a city unlike any they had visited before.
Returning to San Diego brought a different responsibility.
Their teammates wanted stories. They wanted to know how difficult the training had been, what Raneem was like, whether Egyptian juniors were truly as strong as everyone said, and what it felt like to stand beneath the Pyramids after a day on court.
The stories mattered because they expanded the imagination of everyone listening.
Liya believes that may become the greatest impact of the journey.
“If people can see what we experienced,” she said, “I think it motivates them. It shows there’s always another level.”
Ivanna hopes the experience encourages something equally important.
“I want people to know that if you want to improve, you have to be willing to do the extra work.”
Neither statement is really about squash.
They are about possibility.
The Weusi Community Impact Grant was created to open doors that otherwise remain closed. Sometimes those doors lead to another country. Sometimes they lead to conversations that reshape the way a young person thinks about effort, leadership, or community. The most enduring journeys are rarely measured by the miles traveled, but by the perspectives people carry home.
Liya and Ivanna returned from Egypt with stronger movement, sharper technique, and a deeper appreciation for one of the world’s great squash cultures. They also returned with something less visible, but perhaps far more significant. They came home understanding that the game they love is part of a global community built on shared standards, shared generosity, and a shared belief that every generation has a responsibility to help the next one grow.
That understanding now lives in every practice they attend, every teammate they encourage, and every young player who listens to their stories.
Sometimes the greatest gift sport offers is not a medal or a trophy. It is the chance to see the world differently, and to return home ready to help someone else see it that way too.
