Please excuse the silence since my last post, but it turns out June is a popping month for my small town. My mother and good family friend came to visit for our town festival as per everyone’s request. Turns out the municipality knows how to fund a good celebration for our Saint Pedro. The most exciting part for me was when our town mayor came rolling up beside me on his motorcycle and requested that I play soccer with the other women on Wednesday night. I over enthusiastically agreed, and he said he would find me a jersey. Thrilled I shared my good news with host mom that I had gotten a special request from the town mayor to play soccer which seemed was much more exciting to me than to her.
It turned out that Wednesday was chocked full of sports game, with the high school team playing a town over, and the adult team playing the hospital from Chachapoyas. We, the three gringos in town, cheered the teams on while sipping on locally made yogurt and trying to make ourselves blend in as much as possible. As the sun went down we decide to head back up for more warm clothes, just about sportsed out from the day. It seemed unclear what time the women would get to take the field as night time was quickly approaching, so I tried to play it cool concluding that there was not enough organization for a women’s game after all. Half way back to my house we looked back to see that in fact there was a team of women playing on a side field all dressed in traditional skirts and sandals made out of old car tires. We were all too cold to go back and see if I could get in on the action, so slightly dejected we headed the rest of the way to my house. I still had a little hope that the women’s game would still go on, seeing as the mayor did say he would get me a jersey and the women were clearly not playing in official soccer jerseys.
After piling on sufficient layers to be outside for the night we headed back down to the fields, where we were fighting foot traffic the whole way. It was clear that the sports had finished up on the main field and people were heading back up. Not wanting to look like the white people who lost their way we pushed on through the crowd until we ran into my neighbors, and they confronted us as to where we could be going seeing as all the action was long gone from the soccer field. Not leaving time for my to awkwardly respond, my neighbor insisted that we must come with them up to the cement fields with lights to watch the women play soccer, which they assured was sure to be entertaining. Rejuvenated with hope that I still might play we stopped fighting the current, and joined the crowd walking up to the upper courts. We took our seats on the cement stairs and it quickly became apparent that the women were still dressed in their tradition pink skirts, with white tops, and tire sandals. This was not the attire I had come in, nor did I own anything like it. Once again disheartened, I complained to the ref that I wanted to play to, but he looked at me and said ‘you can’t play in what you are wearing’. The mayor had not given me clear instructions for this soccer match, and I sat back and watched, yearning to be able to show off my soccer skills to the town.
As the match came to an end I vowed to find the correct attire for next year, and reassured myself that there was always next year. We went back up to the house to eat soup with my host family and make plans for the next day in which all of the town’s baptisms and weddings would take place in the church. My host aunt was getting married, and their baby son was getting baptized so it was sure to be a day filled with church and food. After dinner my host mom asked if I was going to go back out to watch more sports. Surprised that there was more planned for that night, I pushed the thought of bed out of mine and decided to head back out. Maybe after all the women would still play that night. My mom and our family friend decided they had had enough for the day headed to bed and I went out with my host family to see the action. We strolled back down to the cement courts where the lights were a glow but only a few kids were playing. It didn’t seem like much more was going to happen so we headed up to the church to listen in on the night’s mass. The church was packed full and the electric piano was putting out some lively music. However it was not loud enough to cover up the ring of my host mom’s cell phone twenty minutes into the service. Turned out that they were looking for me to play soccer. We jumped up from the pews in a moment of hallelujah and ran down to the courts, as it appeared they were waiting for me.
The adrenaline rushed threw my body, for it seemed I was actually going to get to play soccer. The municipality secretary called me over, and it became clear that I would be playing for the municipality team. Each neighborhood in town, as well as the municipality (with women I had never seen before) all had their own teams. Our rush to get there turned out to be a classic hurry up and wait moment in Peru as they were still trying to locate our jerseys. But after only twenty minutes of anticipation I found myself in an official Levanto Municipality dark blue jersey ready to take on a neighborhood team. The whistle blew and we took off as the crowd grew and the school director announced the whole game. Well it took a short few minutes to prove my skills to the women as I put the ball into the back of the net. The school director only boosted my confidence as he announced my every move to the crowd and told the other team that I should be better marked. It was quite thrilling to finally be playing soccer, a sport that I had confidence in, and love. The two twenty minute halves went by in a blur, as we won 4-1 and I felt on top of the world. At the end of the match as we were walking off the court, one of the women on my team came up to me and pointed out that while I did get 4 goals I also missed 4 opportunities, and that shouldn’t happen in the next game. I laughed thinking she must be slightly joking, but it was clear from the look in her eyes that she meant business and we better win the tournament.
Two other neighborhoods took the court as we sat down and watched to see which team we would play for the championship game. By then it was 10:30pm and it was clear we would be playing at least until midnight, much later than my normal bedtime. The Amazonas neighborhood came out ahead in the second match (which is the neighborhood that I live in) and soon enough we were taking the court again. The town mayor gave us a pep talk essentially telling me that whenever I had the ball to just shoot for the goal. Well this team had figured out our strength and put three girls out just to mark me; shutting me down enough to only allow me to have one goal in the first half. I politely asked the three girls guarding me if they would mind just leaving me be so I could play, to which they laughed and gave me a hug, thus stepping even closer to me. In the second half we got two handballs within our box, giving them two penalty kicks, and thus winning the game. While disappointed I could finally see the perspective of my host mom, even though we lost, the game was incredibly fun, I proved myself to the town, and I was elated with energy that made it impossible to fall asleep that night. So yes I suppose it is quite possible to lose, be very competitive, and still proclaim that it was great game of soccer.
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