You can never finish a story without even reading it. That is probably the lesson so far for today. I am not even joking. I talked to big-time suspects, hung out with a man scheduled to die for 7 times but still living his life with God, played tennis with criminals, laughed with killers, enjoyed the day with men wearing “P” orange shirts, and most of all, was overwhelmed with the day I spent with real people, real characters in an unread story I once immediately concluded.
Almost all my teammates noticed an unusual me as I entered the high walls and security-glazed gates this morning. I was nervous. I felt like someone’s going to grab me, pull my hair or hit me because for the first time, I felt disgusted by such stares. Then I saw this man trying to wipe off the glimpse of tears from his eyes and I asked myself why. Half way, I already regretted the idea of being there but seeing the man pulled my judgments away.
Still with an empty facial expression, I faced the morning. The crowd was not the usual crowd you’ll hear applauding for your winners or good shots. And the people you are feeding the ball to are not the usual students in the camp having fun because they’re exhausted. The court was not a grandstand of flexisurface or shell court, it was made of cement. But regardless of whether or not it is playable, it was fun. If you’ll look at each and everyone’s faces along the crimes they have committed, if you’ll listen to the small talks they are into along with the miserable past they once walked by, you won’t see damages of the hopeless, you’ll see a new and better life.
Eating lunch with “inmates” was supposed to be the most awkward feeling but it wasn’t. They looked at us as little kids wanting more food from the table. They offered us coke and smiles. They welcomed us inside their mini homes. Most importantly, they considered us a part of their family which is never a bad idea for it was a family of care and acceptance. They might be evil in the eyes of the society but the good in their hearts were visible in my sight that afternoon.
They toured us around the whole “village”. Bodyguards a.k.a. Peacemakers were guiding me and my 7 other female teammates along the walk. People are still staring but this time, I didn’t doubt to say hi or to smile back. Some are producing arts and crafts while some are playing basketball. Some are waving back while singing for the Church while some are praying. Some are joking around while some are just blankly staring. Deep inside I knew that they are somehow just like me, somehow just like any other people because they want change.
People with gigantic carpet-like tattoos doesn’t make a big difference to people with the small or invisible ones. Why? Because first of all, it is still stuck there forever and second, because in the eyes of God, it is the value of life that we share which is the most important. I saw an isolated community full of hopeful people smiling and enjoying the controlled life they were given to and coerced goals expected from them and from their pasts. All they ever wanted is to breath the air outside the challenging space and they felt like seeing us is almost feeling that air. Being considered the air of freedom and hope is just heart-warming. That was the climax of the sound-filled scene. The unexpected part wherein the reader would realize how lucky she is for being part of the story, how happy she should be because she’s moving freely and how stupid she is for not using the latter in the best way possible.
As we stepped out of the white castle-like building from the outside, we knew they’ll be missing the feel of air again. We knew that somewhere along the entrance of that building is a place of moral lessons and an experience only few of us could share. It was a place of hope and not sadness. It was a place of lessons and not regrets. I guess we’ll be coming back. I mean we want to. I know there’s going to be a next time and you know what, I will never be tired of sharing this story.
“You are out there. Go to Church, celebrate and never let anyone or anything pull you behind the grills”. Such unforgettable words from a pastor who used to be a drug lord.
