One day, on arriving at the main gate of Bellavista—one of the biggest and most dangerous prisons in Colombia—I was not allowed to go in and visit. Nothing new. Sometimes it happened that there was a lockdown so that the authorities could perform a thorough search of the inmates’ cells. And so, that day, I ended up sharing a coffee at a roadside stall close to prison, with Carlos Arturo—another volunteer who used to give guitar lessons to the prisoners.
It was the first time Carlos Arturo and I spoke to each other. As soon as I opened my mouth (even though I speak perfect Spanish, my accent betrays me), he was curious to know where I came from and what I was doing in Bellavista. I used to get those questions quite often; so, I already had my answers prepared: “I come from Malta and I have no idea what I am doing in prison.”
He was the first person to understand me. He suggested I should read the play Los Arboles Mueren de Pie (Trees Die Standing Up) by Alejandro Casona.[1] He said that I will surely understand what I was doing in prison. After this short meeting, Carlos Arturo and I never crossed paths again. But, he left me the memory of a book that helped me discover why and what I did in prison—and subsequently in my daily contact with “the poor.”
[1] Casona was a very prolific Spanish poet and playwright (1903–1965) who left Spain after Franco’s rise to power and settled in Buenos Aires where he became an acclaimed writer and critic.
Bro Carmel Duca MC
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