THE 21 DE ABRIL PAMPA
Partial aerial view of Chimbote, 1963
In the exact spot of the 21 de Abril housing development in Chimbote where the Santa María Reina school stands today, there existed in the sixties a legendary football field whose images and echoes remain vivid in my memory. The neighbors called it by various names, but it was most commonly known as: The 21 de Abril Pampa.
I was born at the beginning of that decade. I grew up without toys or television, but I had the joy of playing on The Pampa with the kids from my Barrio, kicking a plastic ball and wallowing in its dusty earth. And every Sunday, I crossed the road that separated my house from The Pampa to watch the best teams from 21 de Abril and other Chimbote neighborhoods play.
It was a dirt pitch with wooden goals, anchored in another time. In a Chimbote that knew no rain. The San Isidro and 2 de Mayo barrios could still see lizards, toads, and snakes. At night, the cicadas besieged us with their relentless chirping, and at dawn, the owls left us with the premonitory whisper of mourning.
Sunday after Sunday, The Pampa turned into a sporting festival. In the morning, an enthusiast would run with a bucket of lime to mark the field. Another would arrange the trophies at stake on a small wooden table. And around all four sides of the field, a crowd would gather, coming from neighborhoods both near and far from 21 de Abril.
I was five years old when, in the mid-60s, I would cross The Pampa to go to Buenos Aires Avenue to watch the train pass by. The 21 de Abril market did not yet exist, and part of its current location was a large cement courtyard enclosed by a chain-link fence. It was a warehouse for the Materials Bank created by the first government of Architect Fernando Belaúnde Terry.
One of the first teams to play on The Pampa was the 21 de Abril Social and Sports Club; among others, Eduardo “Lalo” Benson Melitón and Javier “Chino” Luna Haro stood out here. The "derbies" between Sport Zenit and Juan Joya are also well-remembered. The Estrella Roja from my Barrio would cross Aviación Avenue along with a group of neighbors and followed by a cloud of kids and stray dogs; upon seeing them arrive, the fans would smirk and say, “Here come the cholos from San Isidro.”
In front of the house of Don Carlos Ramírez Lozada, on one of the corners of The Pampa, an orange vendor with his tricycle would stack them in the shape of a pyramid every Sunday. Mid-block, on the sidewalk of Doña Alicia Simons Jara de Palomino, the table with the trophies was set up. And on the opposite corner, the jukebox was always playing at the famous bar, which popular wisdom had renamed... El Frontón.
The team from the San Francisco de Asís Cooperative was another of the great Sunday entertainers. The institution's manager, Don Fausto Berrospi Martell, organized a strong squad in which Roberto “Cholito” Luperdi Ponte stood out clearly. Among other teams, Los Ángeles Diabólicos, 2 de Mayo, and Defensor Progreso also played here. Joining them were the Young Christian Independent (J.I.C.) and John F. Kennedy.
The Pampa was surrounded by three major landmarks of the area: the 21 de Abril Market, built in the late sixties—after the 1970 earthquake, part of its facilities were used to house the Chimbote prison; the old San Francisco de Asís Church, beautifully designed in the shape of an ark with stylized pájaros cochos on its walls, whose demolition after the earthquake gave way to the current building; and the now-gone Boys' Public School No. 3151, located on the other side of Aviación Avenue, where the San Isidro Barrio community center now stands.
But there is also another image. Dramatic and significant. It was passed on to me by my brother Alberto many years ago: on the afternoon of Sunday, May 31, 1970, when the earthquake began, he was at The Pampa and ran in search of my mother. The earth was splitting open, and boiling water was surfacing from the ground. In front of Don Carlos Ramírez Lozada’s corner, Alberto saw the poor orange vendor trying to gather them from among the feet of the crowd running for their lives.
At the beginning of 1971, The Pampa’s days were numbered. Education authorities had decided to use this land to build the facilities for the Santa María Reina school, which at that time was based in a temporary location on the first block of Alfonso Ugarte Street. During the first months of that year, the legendary sports field witnessed its final football matches; then, the construction of the new school building began.
I remember that on September 1, 1971, a long national teachers' strike began, and I had free time to go and watch the school's construction. Cement had begun to cover The Pampa, and soon the earthquake-resistant classrooms managed by the Reconstruction and Rehabilitation Commission of the Affected Zone (CRYRZA) would rise. While I was there one of those days, I saw the police suppress a teachers' march. My own teachers ran in different directions, tear gas invaded The Pampa, and this event was tattooed on my mind as the first police repression I vividly remember.
On December 1 of the same year, the Minister of Education, Major General Alfredo Carpio Becerra, arrived at the 21 de Abril housing development to inaugurate the new Santa María Reina school. Four days earlier, I had turned eleven years old, and I was in the front row listening to his boring speech and counting the stars on his jacket. Hours later, when I told my father, who never had any affection for the military or dictatorships, he said to me: “When you want to hear a good speech, listen to Víctor Raúl Haya de la Torre. And when you want to count stars, count the stars in the sky.”
That year, 1971, The Pampa ceased to be the pampa. The new Santa María Reina school building was ready to open its doors in 1972. The clamor of schoolchildren replaced the shouts of "goal," and the students' uniforms substituted the players' attire. The ball went rolling to other stages. And time passed inexorably.
Every time I have asked about the players of yesterday, a shadow accompanies the news I receive: "Nango" is gone, "Lobo" is gone, "Pelé" is gone. They weren't at the age to leave yet, but there are always premature departures.
Life goes on, and there are tasks to fulfill. I have written these lines trying to settle an old personal debt: to offer my gratitude for the happy moments The Pampa gave to my childhood.
New Hampshire, USA
October, 2012
Sport Zenit Club - 1966
(The list of names is attached at the end of the story)
Juan Joya Club - The ‘60s
Estrella Roja Club (San Isidro) - The ‘60s
(The list of names is attached at the end of the story)
Sport Zenit - 1966
STANDING: Saniel Lozano Alvarado, José “Chino Brea” Obando, Federico “Lobo” Vergara, Jesús “Key” Luján Valderrama, Edgardo “El Zorro” Obando Esquivel, Vicente “Burro” Zavaleta, Nicolás “Nico” Castro, “Paijanero” León, José “Suertaza” Miñano, and Manuel Morales.
KNEELING: José “Chicla” Farro, Roger “Chato” Flores ¿Cobián?, Augusto Luján Valderrama, Eulogio “Colluco” Briceño, and Juan “Cabeza de Gato” Lozano Alvarado.
Estrella Roja (San Isidro) - Años ‘60
Gonzalo “Lanzarote” Reyes Rodríguez, Alejandro “Abuelo” Pérez, Jacinto “Perro Macho”, Eliseo “La Burra” Vergaray Torrejón, Adriano Corales, Francisco “Chiqui” Castillo Corales, Carlos “Chistoso” Zapata Rubiños, Víctor “El Gringo” León, “Pepe” Manrique Muñoz, Feliciano “Chana” Castillo Corales, Ángel “Cuy” Pinedo Bocanegra, Roger “Chueco” Quintana Vargas, and Alipio Rosas.
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