In the Americas, soccer goes native

BOGOTA, COLOMBIA — Few of the 20 young men from the Yucuma tribe had ever left their community in Colombia’s Amazon Forest when they boarded a boat on the Apaporis River last November. An exhausting two-day journey that included two plane flights finally brought them to Bogotá to represent their community at the Campeonato Nacional Más Allá del Balón, a soccer competition for indigenous people.

Organized by the Organización Nacional Indígena de Colombia (ONIC), a political grouping of representatives from Colombia’s 102 indigenous communities, the tournament, whose name translates as “Beyond the Ball National Tournament,” aimed to do more than simply measure soccer prowess. According to ONIC’s Juan Pablo Gutiérrez, its purpose was to highlight issues affecting indigenous people — and to help build a buffer against their youth being forcibly recruited by illegal armed groups.

Colombia’s Constitutional Court had found in 2009 that the country’s armed conflict disproportionately imperiled indigenous people through violence, displacement, forced recruiting and abandonment by the state, leaving at least 30 indigenous groups close to disappearing, either “physically or culturally.”

The suffering of indigenous people in Colombia has deep roots in the colonial period, but continued long after. Until 1991, they were deemed legal minors, living in small tracts of what remained of their ancestral lands, but isolated from the rest of country. The state made little, if any, effort to provide for the basic needs of these communities, which were left largely inaccessible — except to foreign companies, landowners and illegal armed groups.

The 1991 constitution recognized and obliged the state to protect “the ethnic and cultural diversity of the Colombian nation,” and a number of provisions codified the rights of indigenous minorities. These included protecting their communal land ownership, granting them representation in the legislature and requiring that they be consulted before projects, which affect their communities, receive government approval. Still, as the 2009 Court ruling found, much remains to be done.

ONIC conceived the soccer tournament after a research survey found that 70 percent of Colombia’s 2 million indigenous people (about 4 percent of the total population) are aged 25 or younger, and that about half of those were “frustrated athletes.” The organization’s Secretary General, Juvenal Arrieta, who is from the Kankuamo indigenous community, told the organizing committee he would have loved to have played soccer professionally, but never had the opportunity — many isolated indigenous communities lack resources or infrastructure.

Still, the love of the game remains ubiquitous, particularly in communities located near modern towns and cities, where the sport is king. As was the case with other European imports such as the Spanish language and Catholicism, indigenous people living close to urban centers assimilated soccer as part of their culture. And from there, via trade routes, it reached more isolated communities.

The lack of infrastructure obliged the indigenous game to adapt to its surroundings. In the Amazon region, for example, games are typically played barefoot, usually with a ball made from rolled up plastic bags or even leaves in whatever open space can be found. Those matches, which tend to last three hours, are a weekend staple that plays an important communal integration role.

Juan Fernando Ávila Saavedra, representing his northern Colombian Yukpa community at the tournament, says that since there is not enough space in his remote resguardo (communally owned indigenous land), he and his teammates are only able to play “microfútbol,” a five-on-five variant of the game.  

The Campeonato allows these players to play with professional equipment and under global rules, and for some to demonstrate the ability to play in Colombia’s professional leagues. It is also a way to integrate them into a wider, national community. “I dream of being a soccer player and playing for the Colombian national team, like anybody else,” says Juan Calvachi from the Azcaíta community.

But, regardless of their enthusiasm, players from indigenous communities have not made an impact on Colombian soccer. Although most Colombians probably have some roots in one or another indigenous community, none of the country’s professional soccer players has identified as indigenous. Federico Spada, an Italian FIFA-licensed sports agent who has spent the past three years scouting Colombia for new talents, said he has yet to see an indigenous player at any competitive level of the game here.

The Campeonato aims to change that, offering a path that would both discourage young indigenous men from joining armed groups, and would hopefully open the doors of professional soccer to some.

The tournament was officially inaugurated in June 2013, but most of its qualifying games were played late last year, when some 700 players represented 82 different indigenous communities at a regional level. The winners of the regional tournaments qualified for a national tournament to be played in April. There, a Colombian Indigenous National Team will also be selected, to compete in the first ever “Copa América” for indigenous people from 12 Latin American countries, to be staged in Chile in May (just a month before the official Copa América that will also be staged there).

The remote location of many of the competing communities made tournament logistics a challenge, although the government funded transportation and provided stadiums, while the Colombian Football Federation sent professional referees.  

Even before the finals, the tournament appears to have changed the lives and outlooks of many of the players. Ávila said that even if his team was eliminated and his community’s problems remain largely unchanged, he now believes he can make a living from playing soccer. He moved to the closest town, Becerril, which is 12 hours away by mule, and is training there full-time with an amateur team. “I have always played soccer and I will never leave it,” he said. But for the first time, he feels soccer might be a career choice for people like him: “I think that, God willing, I can get a tryout in a professional team soon.”

In Bogotá, where the Amazon regional phase was played, the Amazonas region emerged as the champions. One of their players, Richard Chávez, from the Azcaíta community, told Noticias Uno after the final, “we are indigenous people and Colombia has forgotten about us. But today, thanks to God, I have the pride to have, with my teammates, made the indigenous people move forward, because we showed our people have talent, and lots of it!”

The tournament has also attracted big names and has made national news. For its opening game in June of 2013 in the small city of Popayán, the guest of honor was Colombian soccer legend Carlos Alberto “El Pibe” Valderrama — remembered fondly for his long blonde curls and his precise assists for the Colombian National Team. Valderrama has agreed to promote the tournament and coach of the National Indigenous Team.

In the tournament’s inaugural press conference, Valderrama said he hoped the tournament would showcase the talents of indigenous people for all Colombians to see and appreciate. The Copa América was announced at the same event, generating excitement across the continent. According to Arrieta, Bolivia’s President Evo Morales — an avid soccer player himself — expressed the desire to play for his national team. Ecuador mandated former international player Álex Aguinaga with creating an indigenous team, while Marcelo Salas and Elías Figueroa were given the same responsibility in Chile.

The plan was backed by the newly formed indigenous political committee meeting at last December’s summit of the Mercosur regional economic bloc, and by the Fondo Indígena, an international body promoting the rights of indigenous people across Latin America and the Caribbean.

Chile has pioneered indigenous soccer, with national indigenous bodies having staged a tournament since 2012. It is contested by teams from the Mapuches, Aymaras, Pehueneches and even the Rapa Nui, from the remote Easter Island. The Rapa Nui competed in the 2009 Chilean Cup against local giants Colo Colo. And the Mapuches most famous soccer son is Jean Beausejour, a forward on Chile’s national team who is half Mapuche.

The Chilean government will fund the infrastructure and the transportation and accomodations within Chile for visting teams (though each national team will have to raise funds to get to the cup). Figueroa, widely considered the best Chilean player ever, was appointed as an advisor for both Copa América and the indigenous competition, which was dubbed Copa América de los Pueblos Originarios (American Cup for Aboriginal Peoples).

Backed by his government and national and continental football federations, Figueroa is focused on raising the profile of the tournament by getting “big names behind all of the indigenous national teams.” For example, he hopes Carlos Gamarra will coach the Paraguayan team; Teófilo Cubillas might oversee the Peruvian one; and Beausejour might do the same for the Chileans. The involvement of elite players from Latin America has drawn interest from ESPN and Fox Sports, prompting optimism from Figueroa about the tournament’s impact. “The main thing, beyond soccer, is to deliver a message of unity,” he told the Chilean media. “They are our elders and we must show them concrete gestures of affection.”

The aim of professional status for some of the players may be within reach as a result of the tournament, according to John “Pocillo” Díaz, a Colombian coach who will help Valderrama select the national team. Díaz believes there is “plenty of human material to work with here, these players just need training and exposure.” For now, he is fielding four indigenous players in a team he coaches for the amateur Bogotá League, and he knows that two of them have been offered tryouts by teams in the higher profile Olaya Herrera tournament, which offers a good platform for being discovered by professional teams’ scouts.

That’s just one sign of the positive impact the organizing of an indigenous tournament is having in Colombia, said Gutiérrez. For young men in a number of communities, it has offered a new focus. Gutiérrez recalled being told by one player, “modern soccer can create a lot of violence, but we are using it to get out of the daily violence in which we are forced to live.”