Monday, October 22, 2012

Obet


 (Or How Our Prison School Began)

Obet was accused of theft  with other two young boys. When they came to Misamis Occidental Provincial Jail in Oroquieta City as detention prisoners in August 2010, they were thin and pale. Their smell indicated that they had not bathed for many days already.

Because they were minors, they were not placed in regular cells where living was too difficult. Instead they were each assigned to the three cells of the trustee building within the compound. Here, mobility was better compared to the regular cells where inmates were locked up almost 24/7 except in one hour sun exposure during Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays.  

Obet chose cell number 3, our cell. He was shy. And as our offering, one buddy and I  gave out our night’s meal for him. He took the food and consumed everything in the plates. We thought he and his buddies might not have eaten for days too, which he later confirmed to be so.

Months had passed and his other buddies Albert and Jason finally got visits from their respective families who hailed from Tukuran, Zamboanga del Sur and Ipil, Zamboanga Sibugay respectively. I asked Obet why did his parents not visit him. He told me he lost their  contact numbers and the remaining option was to write them. His parents who were vegetable vendors in Oroquieta City did not have any  idea what happened to their son.  “So, write them a letter and we’ll ask the guards to deliver it to your parents,” I told him.      

Weeks had passed and I did not see anybody visiting Obet. I asked him about the letter because I knew how it was to have no visitors when you see fellow inmates enjoying the company of their loved ones even for a very limited time inside the jail. He just smiled whenever I raised the idea of writing his parents,  and would just tell me he would do it.

It was Jason who told me that Obet did not know how to read and to write his name. I confronted him and he told me the truth. I asked him if he was  interested to learn how to write his name and he was excited about it. 

So I asked Annie Jean to buy for us an eraser, a box of chalk, and to bring some used pre-school  books of my kids back home  and paints. With Obet, we transformed one prison wall full of ‘vandalisms’ into a green board where we could write our lessons on.  Like the looks of chalkboards at DepEd schools, I wrote the alphabets and numbers right at the upper portion of the board for Obet’s easy reference.

It was a sort of challenge for me as a former college instructor. Although my field was not a pre-school  I felt it was my responsibility to help Obet learn basic literacy and vowed I would learn to teach him in the process. Besides, I had very few things to do inside the jail so we decided to hold classes for us to enjoy and to learn. It was also a very effective means of fighting boredom, one of the worst companions of prisoners.

We met at our makeshift classroom every 5:00 P.M to 6:00 P.M., Mondays to Fridays. 

As we were into the third week of our class, one strict prison guard approached me and said the warden wanted to see me about “your class.” (To be continued)

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