Mid-October

During the last couple of weeks Lynn and I have been busy with teaching during the day and with various learning activities at night, such as a short course in Franciscan spirituality and a 1-week symposium celebrating the 50th anniversary of Vatican II. My favorite teaching sites are at Abra, a men's prison on the other side of the mountains to the east of where we live, and at the Santa Vera Cruz hospice of the Calcutta Sisters, which is on the other side of the mountains to the west of us. Cochabamba has excellent weather, so while going to or from either worksite, just the ride itself is uplifting. On the way to either destination, the various sections of road change from dirt to rock to asphalt and back again as they jolt and wind from neighborhood to city to community.¹ We are approaching the rainy season here, but the weather is almost always sunny, cool in the mornings and evenings, and hot at midday, but always with low (30-35 percent) humidity. So getting there is a time to reflect on how lucky we are to be able to volunteer our labor in such a beautiful place.

In Abra we (Lynn and I) are not allowed to take cameras inside the prison with us, so I won't be sharing any photos of the students there.  We have a hard enough time getting our electronics in on the occasional days when we try to work in popular songs or video in English. As frustrating as the entry process can be, I understand the need for the caution, and from my limited experience with the interior of US prisons, this one is far less bleak--with flower gardens, pet dogs, visits from wives and children--and even a food court with tiendas and the occasional waft of chicken or beef kebabs on a grill.  This, of course, belies the reality that the money allotted for food in the prison is very low, so those inmates with more money will have a better time of it.

My forearm with a day's worth of entry stamps.  The three
friendship bracelets are, from right to left, one given to me by
Sandra, a student at Carmen Pampa, a green and brown one
I bought because the design and colors reminded me of Emer,
our daughter, and one with my name on it, made and given
to me by José, a student at Abra.

To enter with audiovisual equipment, we have to present a list of the equipment, have that checked against the equipment itself, then wait to see if the approval for entering with the equipment is there at the front desk. Frequently it is not, and I begin the process of entering without the equipment, seeking the delegate who has the approval form, then requesting that he visit the outer office to verify that I have permission to enter with the equipment.  That being done, I then can return to the outer office, have a pat-down search to be sure I'm not sneaking in drugs, weapons, phone cards, flash drives, cameras, etc., (this is sometimes more thorough, sometimes more challenging, because the personnel always changes) then have my forearm stamped with approval, then re-enter the main gate of the prison, verify that I have the pat-down approval stamp (black), then receive my second approval stamp (red) to enter the yard where the men can congregate.  Of course, during the time we teach we can always hear a loud speaker blaring orders for individuals to report to various locations.  Sometimes there is more than one class in the teaching space (sanctuary of a Catholic church within or a small classroom/library) or more than one teacher vying for the one whiteboard.

I just took a sip of coffee and read over that last paragraph. I laughed because while all of the details about the inconvenience are true, I cite them with full knowledge that at the end of each class-day I will gather up my things, make the usual kinds of "next time" remarks, note the requests and comments, and then leave.  Of course, I understand that's what prison is all about, sitting with one's wrong doings in an environment of deprivation. And I don't question the men about what things they have done that resulted in their being where they are, so maybe I shield myself from that shock and horror.  But in the eight months that I have been going there to teach I think I have begun to see a different kind of risk or addendum to the punishment of the time sentence. They all want to be more than just the person who committed the crime, and they all seem to be at risk of a kind of decay of their own individuality.

This last element seemed most apparent to me recently when Lynn and I decided to show a full-length film to both of our groups--the beginners and the advanced--on one day and to discuss it with both groups combined on the following day.  To hold their interest and to stimulate discussion, we decided to show the film² with Spanish subtitles and to allow the discussion in Spanish as well.³ On the day of discussion everyone had something to contribute, and by the end of the hour and a half class it seemed like the whole class felt closer together, and this despite the usual disagreements as they contributed and worked through their differing perspectives. They saw in the film no perfect cultures, the need to learn from all of them, the vulnerability of youth, the pain of being parents, the pain of being children, the way incidental incursions of one culture into another can have great consequences.

I didn't come away from the session feeling that anyone was being wrongly punished. Fortunately I wasn't in charge of meting out sentence time. Without questioning their characters, I simply recognized that they needed a chance, a safe forum from which to express their opinions and learn from each other. Despite the deviation from our curriculum, Lynn and I decided to repeat the film/discussion format once a month if possible.
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¹Sometimes it seems like Bolivia is the elephant graveyard for all the world's clunkers--heavily polluting, frequently without brake lights, often without any lights at night--but spanking new beamers and hummers are out there as well.

²The film was Babel, which, along with 4 others ( A Beautiful Mind, The Adjustment Bureau, Spirited Away, and Madeinusa) comprised the first episode of the film series Filmanía that Lynn is coordinating with the group Pastoral Juvenil in Cochabamba.

³I remember my own difficulties during language school when I needed to respond to something but my vocabulary or sense of grammar wasn't sufficient to relay my perceptions in the new language.