Script… Peru 2
Lima
Capital of Peru
Shona Ally is a volunteer prison minister. For the past 12 years she’s worked in South African prisons bringing her message of hope and change to those behind bars. She’s a committed Christian… and believes that her brand of non-judgemental counselling has allowed many inside to turn their lives around.
Now she’s in Peru… to visit some of the 27 SA’s held in prisons across the country. They’re all here for trying to smuggle cocaine out of the country and many have been given long prison sentences.
Lurigancho is Lima’s largest prison for men. The 40-minute drive there takes Shona through the poor neighbourhoods and shantytowns that spread out beyond the old city…
Wednesday and Saturdays are visiting days at Lurigancho. Thousands of visitors start arriving early in the morning – many of them women and children. A huge market springs up … for some, visiting day is a chance to earn a living. There are those who rent out skirts and sandals… something women are required wear when going inside the prison. Children make money by cleaning off the numbers written on visitor’s arms with black markers. Hawkers sell everything from food and ice-cream to toothpaste and shoes…
Shona has come to this prison every day for the past two weeks. Today the prison authorities have allowed us to film her visit….
Natural UPS
TITLE
These are some of the 14 South Africans held inside Lurigancho prison…. the ones prepared to show their faces. They’re serving sentences ranging from three to ten years… and almost all of them say they were approached by Nigerian syndicates in South Africa…
Shona’s visit is the first visit any of them have had from home - apart from the occasional appearance of Embassy staff. Today they’ll miss the main meal of the day and Shona has brought them the breyani she cooked in her hotel kitchen.
Nat ups
Shona tries to offer comfort and but she also tries to understand how they got themselves into this strange prison in a strange country
Sentenced to 10 years
Sentenced to
Christopher Allen
Sentenced to 7 years 11 months
Christiaan Meyer
I sometime feel as if I will never get out of here again and as if nobody cares…
Sentenced to
Sentenced to
MOVE PRISON SEQUENCE TO BEFORE ERIC
Midday is Paella time inside Lurigancho… It’s the main meal of the day and also the last one. Finding the 2 Soles – or R5 – for the weekly meal ticket is an obsession with prisoners. It’s simple. No money, no meal ticket. No meal ticket, no food. And with very little work available, no food is a constant reality for some prisoners. The meal ticket system is not official policy, but with inmates running the system from the inside, these rules govern prison life:
UPSOUND
Almost 6500 prisoners are crowded into a prison intended for only 1500 people. Official jobs are hard to come by. Sometimes there are only odd jobs handed out by the prisoner committees in each pavilion - the so-called delegados. These jobs are given to those who are in favour with the delegado’s – usually Peruvians. The only other way of making money is by doing menial tasks for other prisoners… like carrying water or cleaning.
Prisoners say almost anything is available inside prison – at a price. From drugs to food. From illegal cellphones to prostitutes. On the ground floor of the pavilion for foreigners there are little restaurants where food is prepared and sold. We also saw some cells that looked like hotel rooms with electrical appliances and fancy furniture…
Eric le Roux finds it difficult to do physical labour… he’s got advanced emphysema. But sometimes he’s lucky enough to get an odd job… helping to prepare food in unofficial restaurants run from some of the cells.
This is a so-called Quaddro. Those who can’t afford a cell share these big rooms… divided into smaller sections by plastic sheets hung from the ceiling. And even here there are those who can afford better accommodation than others:
Because I don’t have money I sleep down there on floor.
And this is how I get in…
In the summertime you can hardly breathe down here. Hey, its difficult?
You can’t even read a book? No, I can read my book. Because I put in my own light I lie and read my book like this at night. You’ve got good at this… Ja, you see I’m the electrician here and I do all the electrical installations here… that’s why I have my own light down here. If the other people want it, they have to pay me. That’s the only way I can live in this place… to make money. Otherwise? Hey man this place is not nice. Those people in South Africa must’nt come here. This place is ugly and here they steal you things regulary. Is that so? Yes.
Writing letters is part of prison life. Eric writes letters to no-one in particular. His wife died a year ago while he was in prison. He doesn’t know what happened to his only son
HOLD FACE LONGER
Christopher Mans shares a cell with another South African. They are behind with their payments to the delegado and might soon have to move out.
Further down the pavilion Christiaan and his friend Jan share a one-man cell with a New Zealander they call Uncle Robert. He too is here for drug trafficking. Uncle Robert receives financial help from home and he helps the South Africans keep up their payments.
So is this where you sleep? Where else? On the roof?
(MAYBE THE BIT ABOUT EVERYONE BUSY ON OWN STASIE)
The seperation from everyone I love. There is no-one here you can really call your friend. You don’t have friends here. I try to cut myself off from all thoughts but I keep a photo of my wife and children against my wall. And of course the only thing in my thoughts is the longing and then my prayers at night…
Santa Colonia Prison
Lima
INSERT KOTS AND FUME VISUALS
Across town lies another large prison. A huge chicken abbatoir shrouds the prison in a stinking cloud of smoke. Inside are four South Africans. Steven Wright and Markus Waring are both still waiting to be sentenced. Steven has been here for almost year. Markus was arrested a few months ago:
UPS
Today Shona has brought them some toiletries and small luxuries like margarine, coffee and sugar. But as in Lurigancho, her visit gives them an opportunity to confess… to talk to someone from home:
Steven Wright
Markus Waring
But Shona has also brought a message from a friend back home.
UPS
This is Shona’s last visit before going back to South Africa. Steven and Markus panic at the thought of her departure. This might be their last contact with somebody from home, somebody from the outside.
In Lurigancho there are at least there are more South Africans. The difficulties with a foreign language force them to rely on each other. Even But friendships are fragile. Some are better off than others and petty jealousies easily threaten alliances. At the end of the day its every man for himself:
Once released, there’s the question of how to get home… and how to pay for it. Eric Bester was sentenced to two terms of 25 years. He says his sentence was reduced to 8 years after a penalty of $40 000 was paid to the Peruvian authorities. He’s just been released from Lurigancho after serving four years…
Shona’s visit has brought a bit of hope to the South Africans in prison. On her last day they hang onto her every word. They fear it might be their last contact with home - for a long, long time. In her short stay there Shona has managed to make a family of them.
Very few of the South Africans deny their guilt. Every single one cautions others who might be lured into the trafficking of drugs. Some are due for parole but don’t have the money they need to process their papers… or to pay the fines required before being let out. The prospect of going home is sometimes as frightening as that of staying inside.