FOOTBALL4GOOD MAGAZINE - DECEMBER 2019

FOOTBALL AS A SOURCE OF LIFE IN THE CHILEAN TOWN OF CALETA DE CHANAVAYITA FOOTBALL4GOOD & PHOTOGRAPHY In Chile, years of entrenched inequality and economic hardship have taken their toll. As Chileans take to the streets calling for change, London-based photographer Timothy Spurr travelled to the country’s hinterlands, to its most hard-hit communities where foot- ball is being used to foster resilience. Photos and Text by Timothy Spurr ‘El Pelo Duro’ was once a young fisherman in these parts who plied the waters to make an honest living, Pascuala Ramos recounts. On a day that began like any other his habitual outing took a turn for the worse. The tumultu- ous waters of Caleta de Chanavayita were too strong to handle and he would never return. The following morning, all that was found was his boat. The small fishing village lies 50km south of Iquique in Chile’s northern region of Tarapacá. It is one of many small communities scattered along the seafront, like a school of stranded fish, each one perched precariously where the endless ocean meets the endless sand. Leaving the shorefront, where the sand would normally give way, the vast desert plains run on, all the way across this narrow nation to the overlooking Andean mountains. Caleta de Chanavayita resembles a seam between two elemental enormities, each tugging away at the fabric that binds them. The village itself consists of what seems like no more than a handful of canteen trucks and self-constructed houses made of corrugated iron. As the cars pass through, nowadays less and less are likely to stop. If their drivers look closely, they might notice the roadside shrine built in the name of El Pelo Duro by his fellow fishermen, honouring a life lost earning a living. Each morning before heading out to sea, the trawlers pass the shrine and pay their respects. It is said that after a bad catch the spirit of El Pelo Duro appears, hovering over an area in the sea as bait, indicating to those at sea where to find the waters rich with fish. Like the shrine, built impulsively in homage to a town’s livelihood, at either end of a chalked out football pitch in the centre of the village, stand a pair of goalposts. This time celebrating the national sport rather than a fisherman’s life. In the late afternoon sun, the children of Chanavayita gather around two coaches donning Fútbol Más T-shirts, basking in their presence. Barely allowing them an inch to move, though equally excited to get the game started, the swarm of brunette heads huddles close together. There is eeriness to the emptiness of the land- scape and the isolation of the class training within it. Yet, any uneasiness a stranger of these parts might feel is soon lost; whether to the overwhelming natural beauty of the surroundings or the familiarity of football. Before the session begins, the children tirelessly take shots at the designated goalie for as long as they can. Running, crashing and sliding on a bed of burgundy earth, they paint their footprints on the canvas pinned from the sea’s northern coast up to the dis- tant mountains. LIKE THE SHRINE, BUILT IMPULSIVELY IN HOMAGE TO A TOWN’S LIVELIHOOD, AT EITHER END OF A CHALKED OUT FOOTBALL PITCH IN THE CENTRE OF THE VILLAGE, STAND A PAIR OF GOALPOSTS. 37