Taking a break, seeing the world

We arrived timeously at the prison gates. My two American friends were bubbling with excitement as the world of Leeuwkop Correctional Facility became real. Seasoned travelers have a knack of finding hidden corners to explore, places where even locals fear to tread, and my crew was no exception. To me, we were going into an evil abyss, a place where the scum of my city were sent to be punished and forgotten in isolation.

I pulled into the visitors' parking bringing my ‘vintage’ Citi Golf to a sudden halt, wishing we were anywhere else. I opened the cubbyhole and insisted that all personal items be locked inside for safety before we ventured off. Tall weeping willows framed the juvenile section entrance in the distance, within barbed wire and electric fences. To get there we walked through a manicured rose garden and over a small bridge that had no stream beneath it. The visitors' garden was possibly constructed to bring comfort to broken families crossing into a broken world. Yet it really just highlighted the brutality of the metal barriers ahead. We entered through numerous locked gates and experienced an awkward body search, executed by surprisingly friendly wardens. Then we followed a concrete path until we reached the school building where we were to meet our violent students. My American companions seemed to get more energised with every step, while conversely, my anxiety reached unbearable levels.

We were led into a gray room with shiny, peach vinyl floors, metal rimmed windows, a blackboard against the front wall and a stack of chairs in the back. This was to be our space for learning over 6 months. Our leader, Katy, called for the criminals to each grab a chair and make a circle. We were soon face-to-face with a group of convicts with no support from the outside world.

The stories began. Each man shared his reality, his mistakes and his pain. Boundaries collapsed and through honest interaction I began to see each inmate as a broken person who had been deeply hurt. The line between good and bad blurred and was replaced with an understanding of the truthful devastation of my country’s apartheid past. History had left gaping wounds, manifesting as groups of aggressive, deracinated, shattered men, who when exposed to a touch of forgiveness and love had the power to reshape my heart and inspire miracles. I was there to teach them, but what I really learnt was that being a traveler in your own town is a vital adventure that brings deep enlightenment.