My church at home used to have a prison ministry where several women would collect bath products to bring to the women in a local jail. I remember contributing some of my own supply, scented lotions from the Avon catalogue, travel soaps and shampoos from hotels and sample perfumes from makeup counters.Though I never visited the jail, I learned from my mom that the women inside were not hardened criminals. Many were mothers missing their children or raising an infant behind bars. I learned that the women had made some mistakes which brought them to jail, but they deserved some luxuries like any of us.
This past week, I visited the women’s ward at the Potracancha Prison outside of Huánuco. And I had the chance to meet some of the very same women who I had only heard about.
The prison is located on a rocky plateau overlooking the countryside beyond the city of Huánuco. Accessed by an unpaved winding road, the jail is a cement fortress lined with coils of barbed wire. At the entrance gate we were met by uniformed guards and a flock a sheep grazing on some dry grass.
I arrived with one of the pastors in our office and six girls from England who are volunteering at the Granja farm for several weeks. The girls had prepared some hymns and a short skit of the “Prodigal Daughter.” Pastora Yessy would be giving a Bible reflection, while I was asked to lead another one of my movement workshops.
We entered the damp and chilly check-in area, left our passports and bags behind the desk and received an ink stamp on our left forearm. After a security pat-down inspection, we were led through several gates and behind a heavy iron door.
Suddenly, as if all the metal and cement had disappeared, we were met with several smiling faces welcoming us inside the women’s paballon. We were greeted with warm hugs, hands reaching for our hands, and multiple voices at once saying “Hermana, hermana, bienvenidas!” (“Welcome sisters!”)
We were led outside into a sunny courtyard where just beyond the high walls rose the familiar mountains that surround Huánuco – a glimpse of the outside world.
The outdoor space was busy with about twenty or thirty women. Some occupied themselves by knitting small square patches while three women sat kneeling on the ground weaving fabric on traditional back-strap looms hooked around a metal pole.
On opposite ends of the courtyard hung lines of laundry, colorful blankets, children’s shorts and t-shirts and baby clothes. It seemed like a typical backyard patio.
Inside the windows of the sleeping quarters I could see a mother holding her baby. Miniature cut-out stars hung from the ceiling and paper hearts were tacked to the walls. The women have tried to disguise that they live in a prison, and I imagine as much for their own sake as for their children’s.
It’s startling to remember that some of these women have not stepped foot off the property for ten or fifteen years, or maybe even longer. What brought them here? What did they do?
Some committed petty robbery while others were accomplices in more serious crimes. Many come from the surrounding jungle regions and most have been involved in drug trade.
Many of the women in jails across Peru are involved in drug trafficking, often pulled into the web by husbands and boyfriends. And while they work as a team, if caught, in many cases women end up serving a double sentence. The prevailing notion is that it’s better if the woman takes the burden as the male counterpart can still earn a living.
Sentences are often senseless and arbitrary, with outcomes negotiated in a room of three people. Verdicts are made between a couple of lawyers, a judge and some money thrown on the table. There is no litigation process, no jury of peers, and without this there is a vast gap in justice.
The disproportionate number of women serving time for drug procession brings a startling connection to New York’s Rockefeller Drug Laws and their effect women. Mandatory minimum sentences for non-violent drug offences have completely changed New York’s prison population.
Since 1973, when the laws were enacted, the number of incarcerated women in New York has increased over 500%, the majority being African-American and Latina women. The State Legislature is on the verge of repealing the laws but, in many ways, the damage has already been done.
http://www.interfaithimpactnys.org/positionpapers/womenprison.htm
In visiting the Potracancha Prison I realized how easy it is to forget who lives behind bars, in Albany or in Huánuco. And people do live here, many of whom are women, washing laundry, carrying babies, singing hymns and struggling to stay afloat.
Considering the imperfect justice system both here and at home, the least we can do is enter inside and meet those who live there.
