Experience of a lifetime

“Experience of a lifetime”

As my black peep toed heels crashed against the uneven gravel floor of the car park it gave way to an eerie, crunching noise. My balance disrupted. I was pinned against the car by the bite of the cold November breeze penetrating my pores. The burning sensation was intense. “Oh God help me” I muttered. Slowly, I turned around. It was as though time stood still. There, looking back at me, straight in the eye was that huge, cream building- the infamous Youth Training Centre (YTC). How inviting I thought.

Long nights were spent trying to orchestrate this visit and finally it was made possible. In two lines with no cell phones or cameras, dressed in our best church wear, we entered the gates. However, those were not pearly white. Rather, they were a grey-ish, green, tired, and worn and from I assumed, fed-up of seeing so many new faces on a daily basis.

We walked across the gravel and as shallow as this may sound, my only concern was the cry of my peep-toed heels. We filed into the hall. White plastic chairs awaited us. We sat and listened to the officer ramble. To cut an extremely long story short- we were not allowed to have any contact with the boys. “Sure” I thought, “it’s not as though criminals are my type anyway”. About ten minutes later, the boys arrived. Some in brown, white and civilian clothing. They strutted like celebrities straight to the highest level of the ramps, far removed from the white chairs.

The program began and the boys seemed to be interested. They laughed, sang and it seemed that our purpose was being fulfilled. However, my eyes got lost in the crowd. Boys not more than thirteen sat fidgeting in the crowd. Lost, confused expressions were plastered on their milky faces. Others, sixteen or seventeen perhaps were looking like what I term “Gunta fuh life”. No remorse and not a care in this world. There were also those who were neat and well “put together”, probably awaiting the return of the sweet bliss of freedom. Then, dressed fully in brown, I spotted a “foiiiinnnneee brudda” sitting effortlessly with more swagger than T.I. Nice. What could he possibly have done to end up here? Suddenly I heard a sharp whisper behind me.

“Jan stop staring at the boy!”

“What? I’m not staring at anyone in particular”

“ummmhmmmm… he is a convict anyway”

“How you know that?”

“cuz the man said so! Brown are the convicts… for rell bad crimes too”

“Oh…”

A hot lump developed in my throat. I found it difficult to swallow. I could feel my body temperature rise and if I were shades lighter, my cheeks would have been flushed bright red. I quickly re-shifted my focus. The word “convict” echoed in my head. What would his future entail? YTC, men’s prison and then what? Thoughts flooded my mind. This magnificent creation that epitomized the true ability of God all being put to waste? Why? I questioned. Was it worth it? Probably not. Even if he did change his life, he would always be judged and labeled. My heart began to palpitate as a series of emotions that I did not know existed blew me away with an unbelievable force. I took one last stare. Our eyes met for a brief moment. Embarrassed, I quickly looked away.

As the program came to an end we were all given a “treat” apparently. We were going to see where the boys lived. As we walked through another set of gates, a stench like no other violated my nostrils. It was a concoction of dirty, wet clothes, “toe jam”, stale food and yes, urine. “ewwww” was taken to a whole new level.

We walked along a corridor that was sandwiched between rooms on either side. There was no privacy as the walls were made of metal bars in the familiar greyish- green colour. There were probably eight beds in each room. Clothes were scattered on the floor. Wet boxers, dripping with water hung from make shift lines. Murky puddles formed beneath them. The paint was peeling off the walls and toothbrushes were flung aimlessly. The boys were pressed their boyish frames against the metal bars and despite all the chatter, the silence was deafening. I could not believe my eyes as my life slowly changed before me.

Finally, we reached back to the car park where it all started. A naïve girl whose mother sheltered her from the ills of the world now had a new appreciation for the freedom she enjoyed in her bubble