MEXICO CITY (AP) — On a Sunday afternoon in Mexico City's Roma neighborhood, Rosa María Espinosa joins nearly 80 men under a park pavilion to play poleana, a board game that requires mental agility and was invented nearly a century ago. the city's prisons was born.
Espinosa blows smoke rings with her cigarette and laughs with the others. Today she will be the only woman playing.
While the game's origins still carry a stigma, it is having a moment where people from different backgrounds are discovering its appeal.
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“It's a lot of adrenaline,” Espinosa said. “But sometimes the dice aren't lucky.”
Playing for freedom
Poleana is played on a square wooden box with a recessed center for throwing dice. Four players, each with four pieces, race to navigate the board, using specific dice combinations and calculations to move their pieces from their starting positions across the board and through the designated corner, while strategically blocking opponents.
The board symbolizes the boundaries of the prison, and the aim of the game is to get out before the others and win freedom – even if only metaphorically.
“People always said, 'These people know how to play because they've been to prison,'” said the 62-year-old Espinosa. “Thank God I've never been there, but I like to play.”
This afternoon's tournament marks the first time she will face someone outside her circle of relatives or friends with whom she usually plays on Tuesdays and Sundays in the small chapel of her apartment complex.
Ancient roots
Alejandro Olmos, an archaeologist and anthropologist specializing in Mesoamerican games at the National Anthropology and History School, has studied and played poleana for many years.
He traces the game's origins to the Indian game chaupar (or pachisi), with archaeological evidence dating back to 600 AD. After British colonization, the game spread to several Western countries under different names, including Ludo, Aggravation and Parcheesi.
In the United States, game maker Parker Brothers released a similar game based on Eleanor H. Porter's 1913 novel 'Pollyanna'.
Sometime around 1940, the game spread in the lockups of Mexico City, with Lecumberri – a prison whose architecture reflected the geometry of the poleana board – probably serving as the first breeding ground. It was here where it was renamed poleana and given a new set of rules.
“All cultures have a process called adoption transformation,” Olmos said. In Mexico, “the game reflects the harshness of prison life: mistakes are not forgiven.”
Poleana breaks out
Six years ago, Jonathan Rulleri started a family business promoting poleana, with the aim of bringing people from different walks of life together.
One of the first challenges was establishing common rules for the game, “which has spread from below, from prison to the street and from the street to neighborhoods,” said Rulleri, 37, who learned to play while incarcerated was in a prison. the state of Mexico, outside the capital.
After his release, he struggled to find work, a common problem for prisoners.
He started a taco delivery service with his wife, but the business proved unsuccessful, so he reluctantly accepted a job to make a paalana plate for an acquaintance. Then came another commission – and he started posting his creations on social media.
“We abandoned the taco idea and started making poleanas,” says Rulleri.
The resulting company, Poleana Cana'da Frogs – a name derived from a slang word for prison and a description of the way the pieces jump around the board – has so far organized 55 poleana tournaments in public spaces, focusing on a family-friendly atmosphere and where betting is explicitly excluded, a practice common at other poleana events.
“We want to remove the stigma of the game that it was a game for prisoners or slackers,” Rulleri said.
In the 1980s, the game began to spread beyond prisons and was found in many of Mexico City's rougher neighborhoods.
Tepito – the cradle of street trading and boxing in the capital – is one of the neighborhoods where people almost always play polana. On a handball court where men of all ages hit a ball against the wall, others play paalana on the sidelines until late in the evening.
Fernando Rojas, 57, learned poleana when he was 18, but it was in prison where he honed his talents. The games, which can last for hours, take place one after the other in the prison.
“It really helps you escape the reality of being a prisoner and that's how it started,” Rojas said. “Nobody can understand what it's like to be a prisoner… you don't see the end of your sentence. There are people who have to use drugs to escape. Poleana is very important in prison.”
Now the game serves as therapy for Rojas: a way to relieve stress and avoid family conflict. He carries his dice and pieces in a small plastic bag and religiously goes to play on the handball court with his friends.
“We all have problems, in prison and on the streets,” he said. “Many people come here for distraction.”
In Poleana, plays and number combinations have names. For example, a roll of six is a “six-pack” because that's what it looks like when viewed from above. Rolling doubles prompt celebratory cries of “pares y no pares,” a play on words using Spanish words for pairs and unstoppable. With a bit of luck you can get a piece three quarters of the way up the board.
Although chance plays a role, mathematical calculation is also crucial.
That's why Diego González and Dana López are happy that their 7-year-old son Kevin is learning to play poleana. He is having fun and is getting faster with his calculations.
González, 33, also makes poleana boards through his family business, Poleanas Iztapalapa, and found a creative outlet after serving a three-year prison sentence a decade ago. He creates personalized signs with details like flashing lights and Bluetooth speakers.
His plates are popular gifts for weddings, birthdays and Christmas. Some special committees have included requests to include images of deceased loved ones in the sunken area where dice are rolled. Others want playful characters to decorate the plates they give to their children.
Sales soared during the COVID-19 pandemic, when people were cooped up in their homes and found polana a good way to pass the time.
“Two, three hours of counting and tossing, and it was all a lot of fun for them,” he said. “They realized it's not a bad game, it's a game of strategy and bringing the family together.”
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