A trip to an Ecuadorian prison

The first stamp that I get is high on my forearm after a pat down outside the front gate. It’s round and foreign, with a symbol that I can’t quite make out. A young guard in front of me checks to see if his large machine gun is loaded. It is, and he cocks it.

The walls of the prison are concrete and tall, with barbed wire circling the top. I can hear shouting from inside.

The second stamp I get after a guard looks through the plastic bag of presents that Rel is holding. Inside the bag is five packs of cigarettes, containing 10 cigarettes each; a beat up copy of “Papillion,” an uplifting book about a series of attempted prison breaks, the final one being successful; and a long, thin package of crackers.

go to column