Changing Education With Erasmus+ Journal
¿Buscas un tema para tu nuevo proyecto Erasmus? ¿Sabes lo que es vivir en una prisión?
Looking for a topic for your new Erasmus project? Do you know what it's like to live in a prison?
Reflections on a Transformative Visit to Matosinhos and Santa Cruz Prisons in Portugal
It was a differentdiferente afternoon. 'María' was weeping silently. I could hear her sobbingsollozando among the clapping, the singing, and the sadness that reigned there. My legs had been begging me to sit down for several hours. José, foremost among the great, had already noticed the problem. He glimpsed an emptyvacía chair right in the middle of the auditoriumauditorio, housing—I calculate—some 150 female inmates in that Matosinhos prison.
Manuel observed from the back of the room those shadowssombras that commanded the complete attention of everyone present, two silhouettes capable of overwhelming any living soul. An inmate of about 30 years old, cheerful and resolute, was singing a most mournful fadofado portugués, with a voice resembling the flash of a trembling artillery cannon. Beside her, a famous Portuguese guitarist, who reminded me of an older Joaquín Sabina, accompanied those words with his lamentlamento. Fado and lament.
The women's prisoncárcel / prisión we had visited for our Erasmus+ mobility at times bore no resemblance whatsoever to the preconception one holds of a penitentiary. Its design, cleanlinesslimpieza, and layout resembled a modern hospital or a conference hall—both equally depersonalizeddespersonalizados. Yet, save for the dark moss-green walls, damp from accumulated days of rain and topped with razor wireconcertinas that could have been brought straight from the Somme front, that place did not feel like a female reclusion centercentro de reclusión, or at least it had nothing to do with the men's prison we had visited two days prior in Matosinhos to observe adult education in practice. That facility was old, torn, harsh, and aching from the passage of years.
The shadows projected against the background of the stage, as imposing as the two true prominent figures present. It was impossible not to look at them. The weeping inmate, who must have been around 35 or 40, harmonized the wailsquejidos of her soul with the songs of the other prisoners. The fado narrated a tale of a lost familyfamilia perdida, of a distant mother, of vanished happiness. The guitar reinforced the sorrow caused—note by note, heartbeat by heartbeat.
In a corner of the darkened room, a very young inmatereclusa / interna, no more than 23 or 24 years old, was feeding her infant child, who had known very few cries of life—truly very few. Others accompanied the fellow performers, singing, dancing, and nearly shouting what might have been a 'Beautiful!' or 'Bravo!'. Although I could not catch the exact words, I fully grasped their meaningsentido.
The shadows remained there, presiding over the event. It was Friday. The prison exuded song through all four wallsmuros. The female guards watched with a certain nervousness over the smooth running of the performance, which extended until five or half-past five in the afternoon. Poemspoesías, narratives, and other songs continued their parade for two intense hours, all interpreted by inmates of various ages.
The previous day, a Thursday of unleashed rain, my colleague Manuel and I had made our initial visit to that prison. The treatment extended by our hosts can never be forgotten because, from the moment we crossed the security arch and guards inspected every inch of our bodies and belongings, we felt like members of a great family— Pilar's family, Juan Manuel's, José Marques', Isabel's, Marcela's, and so many others who have dedicated and continue dedicating so much time and effortesfuerzos to offering a new pathway to men and women who one ill-fated day lost their way in life. Now they contemplate the rain, the rebirth of flowers, their August, and the falling snow from a grayish, cold concrete bench, all crowned by thick and rusty black iron barsrejas negras oxidadas.
The experience of presenting our Erasmus+ project on how to improve prison teaching to a group of female inmates from another country will never be forgotten. It came about all of a suddende sopetón, as it was not planned. We got right down to work and, for an hour, talked about Jaén, our land, our culture. Our eager desire to talk with them, learn from them, and listen to them was palpable, so we could understand what needs to be offered in classrooms.
We were able to enter several classes, as established in the visit program designed with such care and effortdenuedo, visiting both the horrific men's prison and the more humane women's facility. I do not remember a single sad face—not one—among the teachers, who were mostly women with a remarkably long careercarrera profesional dedicated to this type of student. We spoke with many of them, and in all of them, the incredible admirationadmiración they felt for their teachers was clearly visible. One of the inmates presented us with a surprise gift: a copy of the magazine they edit inside the prison.
Isabel accompanied us, with enormous blue eyes, pure energy, at 64 years of age and with more than 40 years of professional careercarrera profesional behind her. Isabel told us how she discovered this work that yields so many rewards many years ago and how she told herself she would never leave it. Her students, quite elderly—though the harsh circumstances prison imprints on the soul may have prematurely grayed them—told us with joy and a slight trace of tears that the most difficult moment of the day arrived when their classes with teacher Isabel and her wonderful colleagues ended. Inevitably, they had to return to the solitudesoledad of their cells.
Those shadows remain present in my memory. Someday soon they will fade among forgotten memoriesrecuerdos, yet that lived experience in that prison on that November afternoon, accompanied by the harshness of life, I hope will always remind me of how fortunate those of us are who, thanks to the education we received, have avoided the misfortunedesdicha of sleeping in a solitary cell.
Who says one must not invest more resourcesrecursos in offering the best possible education to inmates?
Manuel Molina
Erasmus+ Project Contributor & Educator
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A deeply moving account. Education truly changes lives behind bars. Thank you, Manuel, for sharing this perspective!