The board game born in Mexican prisons brings together people from all walks of life

MEXICO CITY (AP) – On a Sunday afternoon in Mexico City’s Roman neighborhood, Rosa María Espinosa joins about 80 men under a park patio to play poleana, a mental board game born in the city’s prisons nearly a century ago.

Espinosa blows smoke rings from his cigarette and laughs with the others. Today she will be the only woman playing.

Although the game’s roots are still in scandal, it has been around for a while as people from different backgrounds are finding its appeal.

“It’s a lot of adrenaline,” Espinosa said. “But sometimes the dice are unlucky.”

Playing for freedom

Poleana is played in a square wooden box with a sunken place for rolling the dice. Four players, each with four pieces, race around the board, using a combination of dice and math to move their pieces from where they started, around the board, to their chosen corner, while strategically blocking their opponents.

The board symbolizes imprisonment, and getting out in front of others, gaining freedom – even if only figuratively – is the goal of the game.

“People used to say ‘these people can play because they’ve been in prison for a long time,'” said 62-year-old Espinosa. “Thank God I’ve never been there, but I love to play.”

This afternoon’s tournament marks the first time he has competed against anyone other than his relatives or the friends he usually plays with on Tuesdays and Sundays in the small chapel in his apartment.

Ancient roots

Alejandro Olmos, an archaeologist and biologist who specializes in Mesoamerican games at the National School of Anthropology and History, has studied and played the poleana for years.

He traces the game’s origins to the Indian game of chaupar (or pachisi), with archaeological evidence dating back to 600 AD After British colonization, the game spread to various Western countries under different names, including Ludo, Aggravation and Parcheesi.

In the United States, game maker Parker Brothers marketed a similar game, which was based on Eleanor H. Porter’s 1913 novel “Pollyanna.”

Sometime around 1940, the game spread to the penitentiaries of Mexico City, and the Lecumberri—a prison shaped like the geometry of a poleana board—may have served as the first breeding ground. It was here that it was renamed poleana and received a new set of rules.

“Every culture has a process called adoption-transformation,” Olmos said. In Mexico, “the play shows the hardships of prison life: mistakes are not forgiven.”

Poleana explodes

Six years ago, Jonathan Rulleri started a family business promoting poleana with the aim of bringing together people from different walks of life.

One of the early challenges was to establish the general rules of this game, “which has been spreading from below, from the prison to the street and from the street to the neighborhoods,” said Rulleri, 37, who learned to play while he was incarcerated. State of Mexico, except the capital.

After his release, he struggled to find work, a common problem for those in prison.

He launched a taco delivery service alongside his wife, but the business failed, leading him to reluctantly agree to make a poleana board for an acquaintance. Then another commission came – and he started posting his stuff on social media.

“We abandoned the idea of ​​tacos and started making poleanas,” said Rulleri.

The result of the business, Poleana Cana’da Frogs – a name derived from the name of the prison and the description of the way the pieces move on the board – has so far organized 55 poleana competitions in public places, emphasizing the family atmosphere and without obviously betting, a common practice in other events of poleana.

“We want to remove the stigma of this game, that it was a game for prisoners or slackers,” said Rulleri.

In the 1980s, the game began to spread beyond the prisons and gained popularity in many areas of Mexico City.

Tepito – the center of the capital of street trade and boxing – is one of the places where people can often be found playing poleana. On the handball court where men of all ages hit the ball against the wall, some on the sidelines play poleana until evening.

Fernando Rojas, 57, learned poleana at the age of 18, but it was in prison that he honed his skills. The games, which can last for hours, in the prison take place one after the other.

“It helps a lot to escape the reality of being a prisoner and that’s how it started,” said Rojas. “No one 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 as their way of 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, religiously sharing with his friends on the handball court to play.

“We all have problems, in prison and on the street,” he said. “So many people come here to disturb.”

In Poleana, games and combinations of numbers 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 inspires the festive shout of “pares y no pares,” a play on the Spanish words for pairs and don’t stop. Fortunately, you can find a piece that is three-quarters of the way on the board.

While chance plays a role, math is also key.

That’s why Diego González and Dana López are happy that their 7-year-old son Kevin is learning to play the poleana. He’s having fun and going fast with his stats.

González, 33, also makes poleana boards for his family’s business, Poleanas Iztapalapa, getting the chance to lie after serving a three-year sentence ten years ago. He makes personalized boards with details like strobe lights and Bluetooth speakers.

Her boards are popular gifts for weddings, birthdays and Christmas. Some special commissions have applied to include pictures of deceased loved ones in the bereavement area where the dice are thrown. Others are looking for cartoon characters to decorate the boards they give their children.

Sales increased during the COVID-19 crisis, when people were locked in their homes and found poleana to be a great way to pass the time.

“Two, three hours counting and throwing, and all that was really good for them,” he said. “They realized that it’s not a bad game, it’s a game of strategy and bringing the family together.”

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