In Mexico City’s Roma neighborhood, Rosa María Espinosa gathers with nearly 80 men under a park pavilion on a Sunday afternoon to play poleana, a mentally challenging board game originating from the city’s prisons almost a century ago. Espinosa, the only woman playing that day, enjoys the game, blowing smoke rings and sharing laughter with the others. Despite its origins being associated with stigma, poleana is experiencing a resurgence in popularity as people from different backgrounds appreciate its excitement.
Poleana is played on a square wooden box with a sunken center for dice rolling. Four players, each with four pieces, strive to navigate the board using specific dice combinations and calculations to move their pieces strategically to their designated corner, symbolizing the pursuit of freedom akin to escaping prison. Although the game was once regarded as a skill acquired from prison life, players like Espinosa find joy in the game’s challenges and thrills.
Alejandro Olmos, an archaeologist and anthropologist, has studied poleana extensively and traced its roots back to the Indian game chaupar before it spread to Western countries through British colonization under different names. In Mexico City’s lockups around 1940, poleana emerged and evolved with new rules, reflecting the harshness of prison life where mistakes are unforgiving.
Six years ago, Jonathan Rulleri founded a family business to promote poleana, aiming to unite people from diverse backgrounds. Initially learning the game while incarcerated in the State of Mexico, Rulleri faced challenges reintegrating into society after his release. After unsuccessful ventures, he turned to crafting poleana boards, eventually establishing a successful business, Poleana Cana’da Frogs, named after a prison slang term. Through his efforts, poleana has transitioned from prison cells to streets and neighborhoods, transcending boundaries and fostering connections among players.
The game of Poleana, with its distinctive style of piece movement across the board, has seen the organization of 55 tournaments in public spaces, fostering a family-friendly environment while explicitly prohibiting betting – a departure from the customary practices in other Poleana events. “We want to remove the game’s stigma, that it was a game for prisoners or slackers,” remarked Rulleri, shedding light on the intent behind the initiative.
Originally confined to prison settings, Poleana began to transcend these boundaries in the 1980s, gaining popularity in the rough neighborhoods of Mexico City. Notably, Tepito, renowned as the capital’s hub of street commerce and boxing, stands out as a locale where Poleana enthusiasts can often be found engaged in spirited gameplay. Amidst the backdrop of a handball court resonating with the rhythmic thud of a ball against the wall, individuals of varied ages partake in Poleana well into the late hours.
Fernando Rojas, now 57, first acquainted himself with Poleana at 18, but it was within the confines of prison that he cultivated his skills, engaging in marathon sessions of the game. Reflecting on the significance of Poleana in a prison environment, Rojas elucidated, “It really helps you escape the reality of being a prisoner and that’s how it started. No one can understand what it’s like to be a prisoner … you don’t see the end of your sentence.” He underscored the pivotal role of Poleana as a means of escapism in an otherwise challenging setting, highlighting its importance for inmates grappling with the harsh realities of incarceration.
For Rojas, Poleana has assumed the role of therapeutic respite, offering a sanctuary to alleviate stress and circumvent familial discord. Carrying his cherished dice and pieces in a modest plastic bag, Rojas faithfully convenes with friends at the handball court, finding solace in the camaraderie and distraction that Poleana affords amid life’s trials and tribulations.
In the realm of Poleana, plays and numerical combinations are endowed with distinctive monikers, imbuing the game with a sense of individuality and flair. For instance, a roll of six is christened a “six pack,” drawing inspiration from its visual semblance when viewed from above. The occurrence of doubles elicits jubilant cries of “pares y no pares,” a playful nod to the Spanish words for pairs and continuous play. As players strive to advance their pieces around the board, a delicate balance between chance and strategic calculation emerges as a defining feature of the game.
Diego González and Dana López rejoice in witnessing their 7-year-old son Kevin embrace the intricacies of Poleana, noting his burgeoning adeptness in calculations and sheer enjoyment of the gameplay. González, aged 33, channels his creative energies into crafting Poleana boards through his family enterprise, Poleanas Izt
