Back in 2014, I was arrested and imprisoned for smoking cannabis in Cordoba, Argentina. It was a life-changing experience I learned much from. Here are the main things I learned from my five days in an Argentinian prison as a foreigner.
Regardless of the epic tales of The Count of Montecristo and Shawshank Redemption, being in prison is not a fun experience. Do everything you can to avoid going to prison, including running away from a security guard. This guard was overweight and slow and I could have easily outrun him. Instead I chose the Canadian way of stoicism. This was a bad decision because the security guard took the chance to make up a slew of charges against me that were simply not true. By the time the actual police had arrived I knew this security guard was going to ruin my trip.
After two days in an isolated jail, I was transferred into the UCA prison with 60 other inmates. As soon as I arrived an inmate passed his finger through his neck, as if saying I was dead. In this extreme environment, inmates were aggressive by default. The first day was exhausting, finding a niche to survive with nothing else to do than talking with other prisoners. By chatting up I learned that prisoners are sensitive too, maybe even hypersensitive in that the wrong word or strategy could suddenly get me in a fist fight.
Not only did the prison cops enforce their authority, each of the ten rooms had its own societal rules. The system was such that each room had a 'cock' and a 'feather' (gallo y pluma). The cock was most aggressive fighter in the room, while the feather was the best trader. They had similar levels of power as trading in prison is as important as fighting. Even though I didn't care much about extra food or toilet paper, I found myself in intense negotiations with my room's feather, who spent hours persuading me to trade my stuff for his. The cock in my room was an annoying bully, a short guy who was in prison with two brothers in different rooms. Being three brothers was an advantage, but the cock in my room was the leader of the brothers and a lesson by himself. Even though I didn't fight with the leader, I took a shot at one of his brothers after he strangled me through the door bars. If the rules include having to fight, get your fists ready.
After a few days the cock in my room was turning from a bully into a friend. One thing he couldn't stand about me was that I didn't want to wash my clothes, as it was dark and cold most of the time. After a few days I washed some of my clothes and realized it wasn't too bad after all. My room's cock took the chance to try and bully me into washing his clothes. After a few days in prison, I was much more open to helping out and accepted washing one of his garments. He took a serious offence in my budging and almost had me kicked out of our room into the old-timers room. Then because we had become friends, finally he let go of the issue and make me say I wasn't going to budge for anyone or else I would have to deal with him.
During this trip I was looking for religous experiences, one of them happened months before in a catechism lesson the priest taught us that to address god-father, Catholics must address Jesus Christ for interceding. The idea being that god's mind is too complex for plain humans to grasp and thus the need to pray to Jesus. My room feather was the most powerful and he had the responsibility of praying before bedtime. One night he was released and before leaving he asked me to lead the nightly prayer. I did so, remembering my catholic lesson I addressed Jesus Christ for forgiveness in a heartfelt prayer. Then I opened the floor for inmates to ask for their intentions:
"For my little daughter, please take good care of her" - Amen, said the inmates.
"For our freedom" - said another inmate while the rest celebrated.
Then out of the crowd, the voices started yelling for my own freedom. I was thankful so many inmates were praying for my freedom until I realized that at this exact moment, I was being released from prison. It was a cinematographic moment, with 60 inmates letting me pass in awe at the effectiveness of my prayer. If someone had told me this experience I would dismiss it as a coincidence, but being there with the inmates, the conscious intention of my prayer, my focus on Jesus and not the god-father, turned this into the religious experience I had been looking for.
I left prison changed. My fuse is a bit shorter now, I have less tolerance for bullsh*t and gained a sense of destiny. I still haven't figured out if Jesus still wants me in his army, I want to believe that yes, there is a plan for my life waiting to happen.
