It’s Not All Down in the Dumps
This year’s blog would not be complete without including some good memories and stories.
I asked Karim about a mentally handicapped young man who was jailed in the children’s section instead of being squashed in the men’s section. Karim told me that he is indeed is over age 18 and was in the major section for a time but due to his disability, was returned to the children's section. One older prisoner had taken him under his wing, made sure he was fed, and protected him from bullying and abuse. God bless this angel. A rainbow of goodness in a dark, dank place.
Visiting the women's section one day, Hanitra pointed out a young girl who was obviously from the central highlands.The next day as we were checking on the mattress production, a woman stopped by, described a young teenage girl who was in prison and informed us that she was this girl's mother-in-law. They were from Antsirabe and had moved to the north for work. The daughter-in-law had taken up washing clothes to supplement their income. One day a jewelry shop across from their home had been robbed. The actual thief returned to the scene of the crime, went to the owner and accused the girl of stealing jeweler’s gold. He paid off the police and left town while the girl was charged with robbery and jailed. Her family had been desperately trying to raise the 6,000,000 ariary ($1400 or two years' salary) needed to hire a lawyer. As I was walking down the road from the jail a few weeks later, I recognized the same girl riding in a tuktuk, all dressed up. I waved her down and gave her a big hug.
"You are OUT!" Her exuberance was contagious.
“Yes I am. I am! "
After the boy's grounds were paved, Albain thanked me profusely.
"Now that the boy have this nice playing area, it is a shame that they are locked into their cages at 4 pm," I said, "just when the sun is going down and they can finally kick the balls while itis cooler. Can't you extend the lockdown time by one hour?"
He said he would ask him superior.
True to his word, the boys were given this one extra hour of play time each day. I have three sons and these kids had become like my own kids in a way, and I was filled with joy.
The day I donated the 4 pasta machines to the prison, I asked for another "favor". Albain rolled his eyes.
"Now what?'
I laughed. "I know that this is against prison policy, but can Hanitra and I please give each boy a small amount of cash as a goodbye gift?" He paused,
"OK ,but only if you do it in front of me."
Albain gave the boys a song and dance about not buying contraband or cigarettes with the money. They promised only to buy food from the men's section market.
My favorite day was when the courtyard was paved. It was beautiful to witness the kids, who had previously seemed powerless and victimized, join in the process and reclaim a degree self-determination. There was something spiritually symbolic about that day.
The day before I was to leave, I came to say goodbye. Hanitra wasn't well, so I spoke on her behalf. Choking back tears, I said that I would miss them.The boys were silent. One little one started to cry. As I left, a group crowded at the door, calling me back. "Mama Tamara, please come tomorrow for one last goodbye. Ask Mama Hanitra to come too."
The next morning we said our last goodbyes and promised to return. They broke into song, singing and singing, song after song, as to not allow us to leave. I call this a "happy memory" because behind the sadness, was the intimacy we had built together.
Kids Singing - Guard Joining In
