The Light Out There: Prison

Recently, I traveled to a prison in the city of Cotonou to cover a story there. The Mercy Ships Dental Team was doing their last outreach of the year by offering free tooth extractions and oral-health education to the prisoners.

Entering the prison was strange. Meg and I wandered in nonchalantly with cameras and bags. There were a few security guards that payed little attention to us and who motioned us through several doors as we kept asking, "Mercy Ships?" Eventually we found ourselves standing amongst prisoners inside the compound. I was nervous for a few seconds until I saw my friend Jess and the rest of her team.

The Dental Team hard at work

I soon realised that this prison did not follow the mould that I was familiar with. Here the prisoners were given free reign during the day around the entire compound. The place functioned like a small community with markets, a mosque, a church, a bank, and even a music room. Some of the prisoners receive wages working as peacekeepers and cleaners. It all seemed quite pleasant until I started interviewing a few people. Although the conditions seemed okay on the surface, nobody wanted to be there. At night they get locked into cells - some of them crammed with up to 250 men. The overall health quality is extremely low and, altough they were happy to receive free dental treatment, many rather wished that doctors had come to deal with the more serious health problems.

Interviewing the Prison Director Representative

The music room

After interveiwing the representative in charge, I still needed to get an interview from a prisoner that had received a tooth extraction. I prayed silently to be directed to the right person. Then I saw a man smiling brightly, trying to get my attention. I walked over to him with a translator and introduced myself. His name was Judicael and he wanted me to photograph him. I obliged and proceeded to ask him a few questions about his oral health and the tooth that he had extracted. Curios, I eventually carefully asked him if he would be willing to share why he had come to be in prison. "I will tell you, but can we go somewhere quiet first?" he requested.

Judicael

We went and stood in a fairly calm corner of the compound near the urinal - the one place where we wouldn't be followed. He proceeded to reveal the confidential and tragic events leading to his current state. He began to cry and I spent the next fifteen minutes trying to minister to him. Fortunately, my translator Alfred had worked in prison ministry for years and knew exactly what I was trying to say to Judicael. I prayed with him and left heavy hearted.

The worst thing about that prison and most African prisons, I guess, is that people tend to be forgotten about and are never given a fair trial. Judicael had been there for five months and had no idea how long his sentence would be. He felt that his crime warranted about five years. He told me that he had accepted Yahshua as his saviour and had asked for forgiveness. I encouraged him to keep praying and developing his relationship with his Heavenly Father, because that is the most important thing he could do.