Balls Without Borders: The Universal Language of Soccer in Cusco, Peru
March 14, 2024
2014 Palisadian Post Travel Tales Winner
As my younger brother and I traversed the meandering streets of Cusco, Peru, I began to think we were lost. However, according to the locals whom I begged for directions in mediocre Spanish, every step brought us closer to our destination. The three oversized canvas bags that we were carrying became heavier by the second, and I was unconvinced that we would ever find the orphanage, María Salomé Ferro Casa de Huérfanos. Then, seemingly out of thin air, the curiously concocted array of mud, brick, and limestone walls appeared in front of us.
I rapped my knuckles on the behemoth wooden door, hoping that in the next few minutes all of our hard work would pay off. An elderly lady with a soft complexion and humble clothing cautiously cracked open the entrance, aware that not all visitors to the orphanage had the good intentions we did. As I explained to her why we were there, a small smile spread across her face, and she cooed “Los niños estarán encantados con sus regalos” (which translates to The children will be happy with your gifts). Once inside the orphanage, the first thing I noticed was the sheer number of children milling about the yard. It did not seem that the facility, a rectangular building with a large quadrangle in the middle, could possibly house what seemed to easily be 50+ young boys.
Before I had time to wonder any further, a large group of orphans crowded around us gringos, barraging us with questions and inquisitive stares. “¿De dónde son ustedes?” (Where are you from?) asked one. “¿Qué hay en la bolsa?” (What’s in the bag?) inquired another. The rest of the boys shyly looked on, skeptical yet excited about the unexpected intrusion into their safe haven from the bustling streets outside. “Tenemos regalos para ustedes. Nuevas pelotas para jugar!” (We have presents for you guys. New soccer balls to play with!). No sooner had we pulled open the drawstrings on the three bags than the boys began to snatch the deflated balls. Within seconds, our well-traveled ball collection disappeared, each child scampering off with one or even two orbs. Slowly, as their frantic excitement wore off, they realized that in order to actually play with their new toys they would need pumps. And so for the next two hours, we set about pumping up the 100+ soccer balls and engaging in impromptu scrimmages all around the yard (the orphanage had no field on which the boys could entertain themselves). Despite the physical exhaustion that quickly set in (the city of Cusco rises 11,000 feet above sea level), my brother and I had the time of our lives playing game after game, determined to prove ourselves against our formidable preteen opponents.
Watching these boys run around chasing a bouncing ball as if nothing else in the world mattered shocked me in a way I will never forget. During the days leading up to our delivery of the balls, I had continually worried that the orphans would be unsatisfied with our slightly-used, generously donated soccer balls - that they would look at us and think that we, the fair-skinned foreigners from a land of abundance, hadn’t put in any effort to bring them new balls. Fortunately, not once after entering through that wooden portal did this thought recur in my mind. Instead, I realized that so much of what I have I take for granted, and that sometimes it takes travelling 4,475 miles via plane and numerous bus and train rides to come to this realization. My brother Matthew and I had dragged, hauled, and painstakingly transported three enormous military duffle bags to this ancient Incan capital, one of Perú’s highest elevated cities, past suspicious airport security guards and bewildered locals incapable of understanding why on earth we would be compelled to slow down our vacation (or so it seemed in their eyes). At times, even I began to doubt if our efforts were truly worth the hard work, given the multitude of things that could go wrong before the balls even got to the children (like lost luggage, confiscation at customs, theft) . However, making the effort and interacting with the boys at María Salomé Ferro Orphanage paid back our efforts abundantly, reminding me to focus on the bounty that surrounds me but so often escapes my perception, and to always be thankful for my blessed life in Pacific Palisades.
David Grinsfelder
March 14, 2014