Stories from the Field (Andrew)

Our good, but unfortunately cut-short trip to the field this week took us to the highest communities on the Rio Chambira and provided several interesting stories. During our day in Buena Vista, Jess and I were hanging out in our hammocks between workshops and trying to get some work done on the volunteer surveys we’re trying to put together, while deflecting the curious stares of several children. We decided to share some of our cancha, or salted corn kernels, and I discovered that one of our bread pieces had molded so we give it to a boy to feed to the chickens. He took all the food in his hands and as he ran off, shouted something about giving it to his Dad. Jess and I exchanged glances and immediately felt horrible for only giving him a small handful of corn (and were not sure how a piece of moldy bread would be received as a gift), so we decided to give him the whole bag of cancha to share with his family. His father, it turned out, was the village preacher, whom we had met before on a previous trip to this village. Jess had taken a picture of their whole family and sent a printed copy back with a colleague of ours. One thing that the father made sure to include in the picture was his prized guitar. He asked if we wanted to play it, and we said yes, only to find that it was horribly out of tune. Jess made some excuses about the wet atmosphere changing the wood as I tuned it, which made the man very excited in itself. I played the only bits of songs that I actually know, which all seemed to go over well, until we all got distracted by the family’s pet baby parrot. The rest of the afternoon we heard the man playing songs on his newly tuned guitar, and later I was called in again to demonstrate my limited abilities. Everyone seemed to be very impressed.

Later on, in exchange for the guitar playing/tuning, the boys of the household showed us how to fish for piranha off the back of a boat tied up at the beach (a couple young men showed up, and we thought they were interested in the fishing, but it turned out they needed their boat back). We got to see the fishing methods we were taught on our ecotour done by people who, even though they were young, were obviously well-practiced. The equipment consisted of a short wooden pole with a line tied to the end and a small hook and lead weight for one, while another had a thirty foot line with no pole. The bait was dropped in the water and the pole was splashed about vigorously, as if to imitate a wounded animal, although interestingly, this was used primarily to catch smaller fish with pieces of fruit as bait. These small fish were promptly torn up or filleted (still alive) to use for bait on a line that was thrown out into the current. The oldest son, Florli, pulled in three medium-sized piranhas from the water, not far from where we had been washing ten minutes earlier and bathing the day before. They were vicious looking little buggers, and flopped around on the bottom of the boat, threatening the toes of everyone around.

Finally, and probably most importantly, in each village I got invited to play “Futbol” (also known as “soccer” or “the beautiful game” for those of you in gringo-land). After politely declining the first time in Villa Flor to go play Frisbee with the children and acquire my own chigger civilization, I decided that I should take advantage of the opportunity to play soccer with the village men (plus we gave away the Frisbee). So I got the chance to play in the villages of Nuevo Porvenir and Buena Vista. Here is how a typical futbol game usually happens: Every village has a field, usually the central feature of the community, which also serves as central community gathering place, children’s playground, and feeding area for chickens. This is much different than Iquitos, where fields are hard to find and usually surrounded by barbed wire fences so that the people who want to use it can be limited (and charged). The fields don’t usually have clear boundaries, so it’s best to keep an eye out for where the locals consider out of bounds. There are also occasional obstacles, including, but not limited to, children, chickens, dogs, peccaries, pieces of lumber, puddles, and piles of grass or uncut grass (cutting grass is done by machete). In Iquitos there is usually no grass at all. Also, in the villages there’s usually a river on one side of the field, so someone has to be ready to jump in the water to retrieve the ball. This can be problematic if the side with the goal is just above the river bank.

After forming two teams, everyone has to put it in a small amount of money- usually 2 soles, or about 75 cents. The money is held by an unaffiliated person, who as serves as timekeeper, to be given to the winning team at the conclusion of the game- if you win, you double your money. Some people borrow the initial investment from someone else, hoping to pay that back at the end of the game but keep the winnings. Each game consists of two halves, usually between 15 to 20 minutes each, switching sides in the middle. There are no referees and some of the rules are open for interpretation (e.g. no rules against being offside, no rules for throw-ins, and sometimes the goalie can knock the ball out of bounds but then retake possession). Goals are always open for interpretation, especially if the goal does not have an upper bar. There are also some rules that I don’t understand, as the only times I have actually put the ball in the goal, it seems not to count for some reason (I call this the “Gringo Rule”). Needless to say, the team I’m on almost always loses, but we had great fun on the giant, half cut field at Porvenir, and the tiny, mud-covered field of Buena Vista. I look forward to doing it again.