Esteli, Montevideo, and Coronda: Prisons, prisons everywhere and not a blog to write
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Astute readers of our blog may have noted on the “Vital Signs” section to the right of the blogs that we have visited 3 prisons on our trip.
The first prison we visited was in Estelí, Nicaragua. The day after I expressed interest in seeing a prison to my language tutor, we had an appointment to visit the prison. It was outside the city in the quiet countryside. The tranquility extended to the guards; we weren’t searched as we entered. The warden spoke to us with an air of resignation about the difficulty of his work. The inmates themselves didn’t give him much trouble as they were mostly non-violent and were accused of theft and drug related offenses. Money matters troubled the warden the most. He had thirty cents a day per inmate to spend on food. Charity groups from outside provided vats of rice and beans. Two things struck me in particular: the advertisements for Pepsi and the signs for human rights.
The sign above says, “25 years promoting life and respect for human rights.”
I had seen fresh banners advertising a soda when I visited Angola State Penitentiary in Louisiana, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen the words “human rights” inside a US prison. A commitment to human rights is probably a holdover from when the Sandinistas were in power and moreover, many of the officials today might have been political prisoners under Somoza.
My next prison visit was in Montevideo, Uruguay. I went with a former inmate of the prison and an ex-offender from the US. Before arriving at the prison, we went to a grocery store and bought a shopping cart full of food, including pastas, produce, and meat, for the prisoner we would be visiting. Again, the prison does not have the resources to feed all the inmates satisfactorily, so friends and family bring in groceries during visiting hours. The guards know that the inmates will cook the foods on stoves that the inmates make using the wires from the light bulbs that light their cells.
When we entered, I was told that my shirt was too short (it just touched the top of my pants) and out translator was told that she couldn’t wear a blue shirt, since only guards can wear blue. I had to borrow the shirt of the woman who drove us to the prison, and she waited in her van wearing just a bra and a towel wrapped around her shoulders. Men and women were searched separately upon entering and I had to drop my underpants before the female guard. She questioned me briefly about an old train ticket I had in my pocket. I tried to explain it was trash and that she could take it. The translator later told me that I was probably only let in, despite the trash in my pocket, because the guard was flustered by my American passport.
My third prison visit was with a group of young lawyers in Rosario who go to the prisons twice a week to represent inmates in their hearings before the tribunal that exists inside the prison. The lawyers help the inmates with paperwork requesting transfers, calculation of sentences and disciplinary issues. I was impressed by how tranquil the prison seemed. I wasn’t searched upon entering, some inmates seemed to walk about freely, and at times I couldn’t distinguish between inmates and guards because neither seemed to be wearing clear uniforms. Less than a week later there was a riot and 13 men were massacred by their fellow inmates with self-made knives.
Reflection
I’ve wanted to blog about each of the prison visits for a while, but I could never come up with a reflection more complex than: "Prisons suck." The ones I saw in Latin America had lousy infrastructure, but then again so do the prisons in the US. I visited a prison in New Jersey once that housed inmates in trailers with gaping holes in the floor. Security measures such as searches of visitors seem arbitrary, just as has been my experience in the US.
Through our blogs we’ve talked about the ways we’ve learned while traveling. Though I found it a powerful and moving experience to see the prisons in Latin America, they weren’t transformative learning experiences for me. I think I had my “ah-ha” moments and insights about prisons when I first visited American prisons in law school. Thus, prisons weren’t the subject I learned the most about on this trip. The things I learned the most about were things that were new to me and things that I could engage with in new ways. Learning about the miserable prison conditions in other countries just made me feel helpless, because I am even less able address those conditions than in the United States, where I at least know the legal framework for addressing rights violations.
Question
When have you experienced something that wasn’t as powerful or influential as you expected? Why wasn’t it?
Astute readers of our blog may have noted on the “Vital Signs” section to the right of the blogs that we have visited 3 prisons on our trip.
The first prison we visited was in Estelí, Nicaragua. The day after I expressed interest in seeing a prison to my language tutor, we had an appointment to visit the prison. It was outside the city in the quiet countryside. The tranquility extended to the guards; we weren’t searched as we entered. The warden spoke to us with an air of resignation about the difficulty of his work. The inmates themselves didn’t give him much trouble as they were mostly non-violent and were accused of theft and drug related offenses. Money matters troubled the warden the most. He had thirty cents a day per inmate to spend on food. Charity groups from outside provided vats of rice and beans. Two things struck me in particular: the advertisements for Pepsi and the signs for human rights.
The sign above says, “25 years promoting life and respect for human rights.”
I had seen fresh banners advertising a soda when I visited Angola State Penitentiary in Louisiana, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen the words “human rights” inside a US prison. A commitment to human rights is probably a holdover from when the Sandinistas were in power and moreover, many of the officials today might have been political prisoners under Somoza.
My next prison visit was in Montevideo, Uruguay. I went with a former inmate of the prison and an ex-offender from the US. Before arriving at the prison, we went to a grocery store and bought a shopping cart full of food, including pastas, produce, and meat, for the prisoner we would be visiting. Again, the prison does not have the resources to feed all the inmates satisfactorily, so friends and family bring in groceries during visiting hours. The guards know that the inmates will cook the foods on stoves that the inmates make using the wires from the light bulbs that light their cells.
When we entered, I was told that my shirt was too short (it just touched the top of my pants) and out translator was told that she couldn’t wear a blue shirt, since only guards can wear blue. I had to borrow the shirt of the woman who drove us to the prison, and she waited in her van wearing just a bra and a towel wrapped around her shoulders. Men and women were searched separately upon entering and I had to drop my underpants before the female guard. She questioned me briefly about an old train ticket I had in my pocket. I tried to explain it was trash and that she could take it. The translator later told me that I was probably only let in, despite the trash in my pocket, because the guard was flustered by my American passport.
My third prison visit was with a group of young lawyers in Rosario who go to the prisons twice a week to represent inmates in their hearings before the tribunal that exists inside the prison. The lawyers help the inmates with paperwork requesting transfers, calculation of sentences and disciplinary issues. I was impressed by how tranquil the prison seemed. I wasn’t searched upon entering, some inmates seemed to walk about freely, and at times I couldn’t distinguish between inmates and guards because neither seemed to be wearing clear uniforms. Less than a week later there was a riot and 13 men were massacred by their fellow inmates with self-made knives.
Reflection
I’ve wanted to blog about each of the prison visits for a while, but I could never come up with a reflection more complex than: "Prisons suck." The ones I saw in Latin America had lousy infrastructure, but then again so do the prisons in the US. I visited a prison in New Jersey once that housed inmates in trailers with gaping holes in the floor. Security measures such as searches of visitors seem arbitrary, just as has been my experience in the US.
Through our blogs we’ve talked about the ways we’ve learned while traveling. Though I found it a powerful and moving experience to see the prisons in Latin America, they weren’t transformative learning experiences for me. I think I had my “ah-ha” moments and insights about prisons when I first visited American prisons in law school. Thus, prisons weren’t the subject I learned the most about on this trip. The things I learned the most about were things that were new to me and things that I could engage with in new ways. Learning about the miserable prison conditions in other countries just made me feel helpless, because I am even less able address those conditions than in the United States, where I at least know the legal framework for addressing rights violations.
Question
When have you experienced something that wasn’t as powerful or influential as you expected? Why wasn’t it?
2 Comments:
At 3:43 AM, helen said…
unrelated to the above but i was just wondering if your blog has an rss feed/syndication thing? siue's does! i recently discovered the ease with which i can read news and other things online this way!
At 4:44 PM, Anonymous said…
Again, completely off topic here...but Renate, I know what an avid reader you are... You HAVE to read "The Kite Runner"... Khaleed Hosseini is a phenomenal writer, I'd venture to say one of my all time favorites... perhaps you'll tackle Afghanistan next?
Mandy B.
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