Venturing into the Villa 31: Soccer in the slums of Buenos Aires

Like all big cities, Buenos Aires has parts where you just don't go. The Villa 31 is one such place. Los villeros, a not-so-nice term referring to those who live in the villas, have all sorts of not-so-nice stereotypes associated with where they live and the kind of people they are: violent, illegal, tacky, stupid, to name a few. Granted, some labels may be based upon some hint of truth; for example, there is a huge drug problem in the villas of Buenos Aires and, as in other parts of the world, a strong drug trade brings with it significant levels of violence and crime, as gangs fight for control of profits. Despite these sweeping stereotypes, however, the vast majority are people who moved to Buenos Aires from other parts of Argentina or from neighboring countries with almost nothing, many even without documents, searching for a more stable economic situation and for better opportunities for their families

In general, Porteños, including residents of humble neighborhoods, or barrios, look down upon those who live in the villas. They are almost forgotten about, and though they are physically located in the city of Buenos Aires, the villas are a kind of parallel society, living alongside but not within the porteño culture. The residents of the Villa 31 take center stage only when they protest, blocking major avenues and causing massive traffic jams, just outside their neighborhood in Retiro, a major train and bus station in the heart of the city.

Until a couple weeks ago, I had only heard about the Villa 31; I had never ventured in nor had the idea even crossed my mind as a possibility. Then, while talking to my ex-Rice teammate and honorary River compañera Gabi, she mentioned that she had been invited, along with her mother and sister, to help run a soccer clinic for girls in the Villa (Click here to watch a short video about the program).  Curiosity got the best of me, and I asked if I could tag along (Mom, don't get mad; if it makes it any better, we'll just pretend that Gabi's family forced me to go...). Of course, I made sure they were going with somebody who was known in the Villa and who would be accompanying us during the clinic...

Perhaps this is the right moment to explain a little about how the opportunity came about for Gabi's family to be involved in the clinic. In 2006, Gabi and her sister started the project Futbol 4 Dreams with the goal of gathering 100 soccer balls to send to refugee children. Since then, the organization has  grown into a volunteer-run and donation-supported organization which works alongside high school clubs and with international schools to send over 3,000 hand-decorated, personalized soccer balls and other sports equipment to children who lack the resources to purchase their own gear. Along with the equipment, the organization hopes to share not only the game of soccer/football with the children but also many of the values which come with the game. Football is "a fun, dynamic activity we can share together no matter who we are, where we come from, or where we are going" (Futbol 4 Dreams).

Long story short, Futbol 4 Dreams recently donated a set of soccer balls and uniforms to the girls' soccer team of Villa 31. The team is composed of about forty girls of all ages, some as young as five or six and others who are over thirty and already are mothers and wives. When Gabi's family notified the team's coach, Monica, that they would be in Buenos Aires for a bit, she invited them to help run a Thursday night training session and to talk to the girls afterward, as the team already has a set weekly training schedule. The girls train on Tuesday and Thursday evenings on a turf field in the middle of the Villa, which is exclusively theirs during training (although they do have to share with the occasional stray dog and rogue, young child). After training on Thursdays, Monica leads life discussions with the girls in the Villa's community center. They also often have games and tournaments on weekends, to which they travel not by team bus but by public transportation.

We met Monica and a group of other girls in the train station at Retiro and followed them through the entire bus terminal until we headed into the Villa. On our way to the field, we mainly walked along the outer limit of the Villa, where one side of the street was lined with shoddily built brick shacks and the other with the warehouses and garages of the different bus companies. Finally, we turned onto one of the side streets of the Villa and were officially inside, though it was not exactly what I had expected. While there were some of the stereotypical dirt pathways associated with shantytowns all over the world, many of the streets were paved, at least partially, and it seemed as though residents were working on improving their current sewage system. Through the streets an interesting blend of smells reached my nose – meat on the grill, freshly baked bread, rotting sewage, and recently-smoked marijuana.

Despite the precarious appearance of many of the buildings, when we would catch glimpses of the houses' interiors, the rooms were often filled with decent furniture, the floors were covered with tile or cement (in contrast to the dirt floors I had seen on mission trips to Costa Rica and the Dominican Republic), and many rooms had a TV. Granted, the homes were not luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, but they were certainly in better condition than what I had imagined.

When we arrived to the field, we paused for a moment before entering the fenced-in pitch. It was unlike any field I had ever seen, not the field itself but the backdrop. Surrounding the field was a collage of multicolored square rooms stacked one on top of the other, each floor connected only by a spiral staircase along the side of the building. Behind each goal were sets of wooden stands held up by cinderblocks, which would later be occupied by a few fans, most likely brothers or friends of the girls. Some of the younger girls were already kicking a ball around until a dog appeared out of the blue, decided he wanted to play, and trotted away with the ball in his mouth quite pleased with himself. The turf appeared to be in decent condition until we stepped onto it. It was basically a green carpet laid directly on top of concrete. Monica explained that the government had build the field a couple years ago as a social project but had rushed the construction and laid the carpet badly, resulting in uneven parts where the carpet was beginning to bunch and separate from the concrete base. However, the turf was a significant upgrade from the rock-hard dirt which had previously served as the playing surface.

Here are a couple pictures from my cell phone which sort of capture the setting (I only wish the sky had turned out better because the sunset was incredible that evening...):

If you look closely at the blur on the right side of the picture, you can see the dog version of Messi.

Within fifteen minutes of our arrival, the field had filled with more than 40 girls and women of all ages. Some were dressed in cleats and shorts while others were in jeans and sneakers, but all were ready to play. The training session officially started with a brief introduction of why we had come and a short ice-breaker before we broke off into two groups. The youngest went with Gabi's older sister while Gabi and I worked with the older girls. After about a half hour of skill work, Monica divided the older girls into three teams for a full field match, assigning Gabi, her older sister, and I to teams as well.

As soon as we began to play, any sort of awkwardness I may have felt fell away. On the field, I was just like the rest of the girls. All social, economic, or cultural differences disappeared as we worked as a team, moving the ball around the field, communicating to teammates, celebrating goals, and laughing at silly mistakes.

At one point, one of my teammates called my name to get my attention. "Here, you dropped some money! I think it fell out of your jacket." As a precaution, I had taken little to nothing with me into the villa just my ID, a little cash, and my keys which I had placed in my sports bra. Somehow my cash had managed to fall out (I guess I was playing harder than what I had thought). Even though it wasn't a significant amount of cash, the girl who picked it up might have really needed it for herself or for her family – to pay for food, bills, rent, etc. – but instead, without hesitation, she gave it back to me. I don't know, but something about that moment really hit me. Some of the stereotypes of the villeros came to mind, especially about the ones related to their economic situation, and I began to think how unfair those stereotypes are.

Automatically these girls are discounted, not even given a chance by society when it discovers where they live even though the majority move to the villa as children or are born there with no say in the matter. One of the younger girls, a beautiful, tiny twelve year old with some serious skills, told me about her older sister who had started off playing with the team in the Villa and was now playing with the Reserves at River while finishing up high school and planning to continue her education to become a physical education teacher. The young girl wanted to follow in the footsteps of her older sister, using soccer as a way to get out of the Villa and to pursue a career which requires education beyond secondary school. For now, however, she was content to continue playing with the team in the Villa until an opportunity arises to join a more competitive club.

For the older girls, soccer provides an escape from the difficulties they face on a daily basis. For the women who are already mothers, soccer is a chance to forget about all the responsibilities which come with raising a child. For the youngest, soccer is a time when they can be kids again, running around without having their parents worry about their safety. For all the girls, soccer teaches them to be strong in a culture which often depreciates women and subjects them to domestic abuse – physical, emotional, or both. All they need is a ball, a field, and the opportunity to play, which, thanks to Monica, her helpers, and Futbol 4 Dreams, they now have.