Hello! I hope this
blog post finds you well wherever you might be.
I wanted to
share an experience that happened recently to a family in my community, as it
illustrates the way in which prisoners´ lives here in El Salvador (and world
over I would argue) are marked by dehumanization and neglect rather than
rehabilitation and transformation.
Five of my
dearest friends in my community have been waiting for 6 long years for their
father (I´ll call him Hector) to be released from prison. Hector worked at a
mechanic shop and was locked up for working on stolen cars. The details remain
quite blurry as to whether or not he was aware that he was working on stolen
cars, but since he could not afford a lawyer, he was sentenced to 7 years in
prison.
Hector
began his sentence in a prison designed for 2,000 inmates which is “home” to
more than 8,000 men. Prisoners sleep on the floor and constantly suffer from
fungal skin diseases as well as malnourishment and abuse from fellow inmates.
Legally, prisoners
have to be assigned a social worker, a psychologist, and a legal advisor. However,
as the number of detained persons here has skyrocketed, the number of staff
working in each prison has remained the same, leaving startling ratios of staff
to inmates. In Hector´s prison, there is one social worker and one psychologist
assigned to 2,000 inmates. Since it is impossible to provide professional
attention to so many individuals on a regular basis, the majority of inmates
have never met once with any professional staff member.
Hector was
given a psychological exam shortly after being imprisoned 6 years ago. The
results characterize him as a violent person who neither works nor studies in
order to make the most of his time in prison. This is not surprising given that
imprisonment in itself produces depression and violent behavior in individuals
who have been uprooted from their communities and (justly or unjustly) forced
to face any number of years in places that must look just like hell, should
hell exist.
In the last
5 years of his imprisonment, Hector has dedicated his time in prison to
woodshop. He constantly makes tables, mirrors, benches, and picture frames for
his wife and 9 children to sell. Since his wife makes 3 dollars a day on a good
day selling his wares at the market, his children have been forced to drop out
of school because they can hardly afford food, much less schooling. Hector
began to study for a time in prison, but he dropped out because he would
frequently faint from hunger in class.
Though he
has a 7 year sentence, the judge gave he and his family hope that he would be able
to get out on parole after 6 years. Since last Monday was his long awaited
follow up court case, his family spent all weekend cleaning their small home
preparing for his arrival.
When the
day finally arrived to go to court, his children and grandchildren waited
anxiously to see him. He was brought into the courtroom, handcuffed and chained
at his feet. The judge proceeded to tell him that his psychological report
(which was taken 5 years ago) declared that he was a violent individual who
neither worked nor studied and was thus not apt to reenter society. The same psychological
report has been used repeatedly as grounds for his continued imprisonment,
though he has never had a follow up exam. His wife yelled out through her tears
that he works, and that she sells his woodwork, but the judge wouldn´t believe
her since she didn´t have “proof”. No one in the prison system had thought to
write on his record that he has been working in woodshop for the past 5 years.
He is another number. Another offender. Another criminal unworthy of living his
life. He will be released, at best, 1 year after his sentence is completed,
since the justice system is so backlogged here that inmates often wait at least
a year after their sentence to finally be released. This is the cherry on top
of the psychological torture that is long term imprisonment.
Hector´s
children, wife, and grandchildren walked up to meet him, crying after the trial
and were told by the guards that they were not allowed to touch him. They
couldn´t believe how skinny, grey haired, and worn he looked. Hector managed to
hold back his tears and ask the names of the five grandchildren he was meeting
for the first time. They asked him innocently why he was tied up by his hands
and his feet and he responded that he played in the street too much (their most
frequent offense as small children).
He was
quickly led back to his holding cell where his wife got in line to leave food
for him. The guards revise the food and eat anything they wish to eat
(generally all of the meat left for inmates) before passing it along to them.
When Hector´s food reached him, the guards refused to take off his handcuffs,
and he was forced to eat with his mouth, kneeling on the ground as if he were a
dog.
Prison, in
theory, is a place for rehabilitation. It is supposed to serve to prevent recidivism.
Hector receives no psychological attention and no character evaluations. He was
not allowed to touch his children or grandchildren. He ate handcuffed on the
ground like a dog. Rehabilitation? Transformation? Prison here (and most
everywhere) serves to break the human spirit by inflicting people to a life of
constant humiliation. Inmates are deemed criminals. Period. Black and white. We
are the good guys, they are the bad guys. Yet these individuals were almost
certainly victims far before they were perpetrators. They almost certainly were
plucked out of marginalized communities that we prefer to drive through with our
doors locked and our music blaring, so as not to enter their world even in our
imagination, much less with open, compassionate hearts willing to invest our
lives in the struggle to end this segregation and incessant incarceration.
As Hector´s
family trudged back to the bus stop to head back to the home they had again
cleaned with high hopes only to have them dashed, his youngest grandchild Paty tugged
at his wife´s sleeve. She set her big brown inquisitive eyes on her grandma and
with the heartbreaking innocence that only a 3 year old can muster she asked in
a timid voice, “Grandma, did they kill grandpa yet?” Hector´s wife broke down sobbing.
In the logical mind of this 3 year old, if a man with an assault weapon escorts
your grandfather away from you, chained by the hands and feet, he is going to
kill him.
Though Hector´s
wife tearfully responded that no, they were not going to kill her grandfather,
she likely wondered if Paty had discovered the secret of mass incarceration
here in El Salvador. In many ways, these years of dehumanization have already
killed him. They have killed his hopeful spirit, as well as those of many who
love him and continue to wait for his return.
If you have
a moment, volunteer in a prison near you! You will find similar stories that
will surely break your heart and call into question the practice of imprisonment
that many take for granted as just and necessary. If you are interested in learning more about
prison reform/abolition I recommend you read Are Prisons Obsolete? By Angela Y. Davis.
