| Soccer in a Guatemalan prison |
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Some people are in real prisons others are in mental prisons. For the most unfortunate of los encarcelados, they exist in both. Metal bars keep those imprisoned from participation in social life. Mental prisons are filled with psychological barriers that are often more difficult to overcome. Those imprisoned behind steal bars are human beings and deserve to be treated with dignity.
While in Antigua, Guatemala, we were invited by Patrick Atkinson, the Executive Director of The GOD Child’s Project and one of the logistics coordinator, to visit a prison. Students were not forced to participate; it was on a volunteer basis.
We were told that we would serve the prisoners a meal, break bread with them and engage in friendly matches of soccer and basketball.
The prison décor resembled the old wretched broken down structures seen in the movies with outmoded facilities, unkempt prisoners, some pacing back and forth on filthy floors, chipped paint on the walls, and an unpleasant odor. I have visited the Denver County jail by invitation to speak to Latino youth on several occasions. In comparison, the Denver County jail is like a hotel compared to what I observed. However, I am not sure that there is any more dignity given to the prisoners in this facility. Structures can be deceptive.
We were informed that prisoners could spend up to two years in this prison. In Guatemala’s legal system the concept of “guilty until proven innocent,” prevails. It is conceivable that many of our new acquaintances doing time were actually innocent people.
The outside of the prison was surrounded by barbed wire reminding me of an old fort, the kind you see in western cinemas. Once inside, the stench and grime engulfed me. The conditions in the parts of the prison that we were allowed to visit were abhorrent. The warden asked if students might be interested in cleaning up a mucky storage room as part of the service-learning project. They agreed. As it turned out the prison bureaucracy did not permit this. The library consisted of about 30 books and a stack of soiled papers lying on a shelf.
At 5 p.m. the guards lock up the prisoners in their cells and go home. There is no night security. Prisoners fend for themselves at night dealing with the many deviant behaviors that are a part of prison life.
Students served the meal but decided not to break bread with the prisoneros. They forsook their meal so that prisoners unaccustomed to eating decent meals could indulge. The prisoners were famished. The meal consisted of beef, mashed potatoes, gravy and rolls. The prisoner’s ravenous appetites emerged as they stood in line on one side of the bars while students served the meals from the other side, through what looked like a peephole with bars.
Prisoneros who can afford 100 Quetzals a day were literally separated from the remainder of the prisoners upstairs, protected by bars and wire. Apparently, they are allowed to make purchases that would create envy in American prisons. They order food from the outside, have it delivered, bring in prostitutes and/or significant others n their closed quarters and to some degree enjoy privileges that the remainder of the prison population can not take pleasure in.
The outside general area where the games were played in the prison was about the size of a small basketball court with cement floors. In one corner of the court was a basketball hoop. Nets were already set up on both sides of the court for the soccer match. Prisoners were playing basketball and soccer when we arrived. Students, after feeling secure, began to engage in conversation with the prisoners and before you know it, were on the court warming up for the contests.
The soccer game was very competitive. I was a goalie for our team. Once the game started, the competitive spirits crawled out of both teams. Our team was allowed to have as many team members on the cement field as we wanted. The opponents were allowed the number allowed by the rules. As you might imagine, we lost the match.
After the soccer game a young man approached me with teardrop tattoos on his face, a disheveled appearance and a sense of desperation that was overwhelming. I was later informed that the tattoos were insignias representing the number of persons that he had killed. I was also informed that many young men have tattoos on their faces as a facade, a protection device to protect themselves from the “roosters in the hen house.”
I asked him why he had not joined the game. He pointed to the sandals on his feet. He disappeared and came back wearing a pair of tennis shoes that were grubby and practically torn to shreds. He asked me if I could buy him a pair of new tennis shoes.
At the mercado, I remember frantically looking for a pair of tennis shoes that I had promised my new acquaintance. After purchasing them, I was unable to take the shoes to him but was promised that they would be delivered to him. I can only imagine that this happened.
There doesn’t appear to be a lot of dignity afforded to the Guatemalan prisoners that we visited, only the “dregs of society” forgotten with the key thrown away.
Ramón Del Castillo, Ph.D. is an Independent Columnist.
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