Hombre del Silencio: The Prison Diary of Ramon Labanino Part 9: Prison and Coexistence; Saturday, September 6, 2003; Saturday, November 22; Money in Prison; Indians in the Prisons, White Bear; To Be or Not to Be a Boss in Prison; Rafael Garden

Prison and coexistence

In prison it is very difficult to help or be in solidarity with someone, because sometimes you can be misunderstood. On several occasions I felt sorry for those I thought were unprotected, because they had a disability or thought they were fragile, when I saw how others abused or mistreated them, so I tried to take care of them and offer them my friendship.

Once I met a Mexican who was missing his left arm, the prisoners abused him, pushed him and beat him, because with only one arm he could not defend himself. He was a noble, quiet guy.

One day they put him in the cell next door and I began to befriend him, to help him, I gave him sweaters that were useful to him, he was smaller than me and skinnier, and he had nothing. He washed the clothes of the other prisoners to make money to survive, so in order to continue helping him, I told him that I would take care of his food.

I had a Cuban friend nicknamed Fantomas who cooked very well, I looked for the food and he processed it, he did wonders, it looked like Cuban food. I started to ask him for two portions, the other one for the “poor Mexican”, and the latter only had to heat it in the microwave. I warned him to let me know when he was going to eat so I could accompany him, because I was always painting, writing, or reading. One day he got angry and said that I was abusing him, that I was enslaving him, that I wanted him to heat my food. I reacted strongly and told him that I was never going to give him a plate of food again. He had a complex about me.

The human being in the prisons has a criminal mentality and assumes a prison attitude, the physical defect does not matter, they always want to take advantage of you one hundred percent, they do not understand what camaraderie is, they do not know how to help each other, nor how to work as a team, and even less to be grateful for the disinterested help, they always think that whoever tries to help you, is because they want to hurt you, or as we say in good Cuban, that you want to “fuck with” them.

Cubans are known for our kindness, and that in prisons is very dangerous, because they can brand us as cowards, so you have to handle very well the situations in which someone is going to ask you to borrow something, or to buy anything. Sometimes someone asked me for food, the difficult thing is not to give the little you have, the complicated thing is to give without leaving debts or dependence on someone, in prisons debts bring problems and even deaths, if you lend or give to someone without collecting, you create a debt that sooner or later you will have to collect, because sometimes the debtors have no way to pay and it becomes a vicious circle of lend and pay that ends badly.

Thanks to the solidarity movements with the Five and the Cuban Interests Section, I did not lack food, and when they asked me for something, I gave them little packages of soup, and sometimes some chorizo, it was one of the most prized meals in prison, because with just hot water you had a delicacy that tasted very good, I really liked that mixture. They were hunger-killing soups.

I would tell them not to pay me, just to remember that one day I helped them, and that if tomorrow I needed them, they would reciprocate. That way I avoided falling into debt, and the truth is that I managed to handle it ok, because the times I needed a shirt, pants or cologne to wear for visitors, I had it without any problem.

You had to play with the strange psychology of prison, where you could help without creating debts and without being seen as a coward.

Saturday, September 6

I had a pleasant surprise today: Gloria Rubac, the esteemed American sister came to visit me, together with another Japanese comrade, a member of the Workers World and the Socialist Party USA, who came to visit Shirosaki, another political prisoner who is a friend and lives in my own Cell Block Unit. We talked a lot about her recent visit to Cuba, the activities, meetings, her Radio program in Houston, and Cuba, always Cuba. We agreed on several common actions; for the “Committee for the Liberation of the 5” in Houston that she will open, campaigning against Bush, the elections.

By the way, the visitors’ lounge has been changed a bit: now there is dark glass, behind which there are more surveillance cameras; personnel checking every movement, it seems that this is how they intend to stop drug trafficking.

At 5:30 p.m., I played sports, then watched some TV and a few games of chess; until the 9:50 p.m. lock-in.

Saturday, November 22

I finally met the esteemed sister Rosa Peñate and she turned out to be just as I imagined her: sweet, tender, faithful, eternal, we shared a beautiful day, and despite the almost five hours, we did not have enough time to talk.

I was very sorry that Gloria de la Riva could not enter, according to what they say she does not appear in the computer (?), very strange since she already visited me before. It seems that something is going on with the visitor’s list because Kay and Jim Smith’s visits have not been approved yet.

 Tomorrow I will try to inquire with Councilor Leon and do my best to see our Gloria.

Money in prison

At the beginning we had no money, nothing at all, and we went terribly hungry, but after we went to trial, and we stated that we were from Cuba, the Interests Office sent us something every month, something basic to survive. That money was not sent to the prison, it was sent to Iowa, because that is where the Central Collection Office for all the checks is located. You send a check to a prisoner, wherever he is in the Federal System, you send it there to a number that the prisoner has (my number was 58734004), and they take care of crediting your account with that amount.

The embassy began to send us a monthly amount that solved our basic needs if we planned well, we covered food, letters, telephones and finally the use of computers. In addition, we bought stamps for the letters, which are very expensive, to be able to write to the lawyers, the embassy, the solidarity, and the family.

In capitalism nothing is free and everything is expensive. Near the end of my sentence, I bought an MP-3 music player, another way to clear my head a little, but the music you recorded also had to be paid for. The money in prison were new stamps for letters.

In the beginning one stamp was the equivalent of twenty-five cents, so four stamps was one dollar. With many stamps you could buy anything you needed that was in the prison. As I explained before in every prison there is a small store, where they sell new items to those who receive money from outside the institution. There were some who opened illegal stores in the cells, bought new merchandise and resold it at a higher price than in the commissary, and thus made their money. Generally, the owners of the stores were members of mafias, who had the protection of the bosses so they would not be robbed, to collect from debtors, etc.

Indians in prisons, “White Bear”.

In all the prisons I was in I met Indian inmates, not Indians from India, but Americans, and I had many friends among them. In one of those prisons there was one called White Bear, with whom I had a good relationship of friendship.

They knew I was a political prisoner, they viewed me with affection and admiration, it was an honor to have a Cuban representative, a political prisoner, leader of the Cuban Revolution, that gave a political touch to the ritual, according to their criteria.

And one fine day they tell me: “Luis, why don’t you come to our ceremonies?” I accepted.

The ceremony was known as “The Hot Dry Bath”. It was like a sauna, even physically, because you got rid of all the filth, because in prison you eat a lot of junk food, a lot of fat. They had warned me that it was difficult. The ceremony began around ten o’clock in the morning.

The Indians had in the common area a little fence made of wood that was their particular area. There they kept their idols, as well as some blankets, a pipe to smoke, Indian feathers, typical things of theirs. Then in that place they heated some stones, special stones that kept the heat, I don’t remember what kind they were. Then they set up a tent, like those you see in the movies, with a green army tarp, and on top of it some nylon sacks. The steam that is generated inside is not lost, and since it is a small tent, you have to bend down to get inside, and then walk on your knees until you sit in a circle with other people. There is room for about twenty or twenty-five people at most. Everyone sits close together, body to body, feet crossed. When everyone is seated around the hot stones they close the tent, sprinkle medicinal herbs as the stones heat up. At the beginning they put three stones and it is easy, every so often they throw water on them and the smoke comes out, they pour more medicinal herbs, you can really feel a typical aroma. This is a cleansing of the body, but at the same time it is a ceremony to protect the body and the spirit, to cleanse you, to give you protection, this is from the Miccosukee culture, because there were from other tribes, but the most were Miccosukee. Then they begin to talk, each one tells a story. First he introduces himself, my name is so-and-so and I thank the brothers for this invitation. I also spoke. I said

that I was grateful for the invitation to share with the Indian brothers, that their cause was ours, that they were the true owners of America, and that the whites came to take away their territory. I made a political explanation of what we believe and I was well received, they applauded me a lot, and everyone was very happy with me. What I didn’t like very much was that it started to look like we were brothers in combat, like a mafia type of thing and I didn’t like that, because it meant that every time there was a fight with the Indians, I had to get involved, it seemed that it was a way for them to recruit more people from outside. Well, the thing is that after half an hour they put three more stones, and there were six stones. After an hour they opened to get some air, so much steam it almost didn’t allow me to breathe, when they came back for the second part, the thing got super strong, I started sweating profusely. I sweat easily, but this was a copious sweat, the worst thing was that I felt how the heat burned my nostrils, I could not even breathe through my mouth, my nose hairs were burning. I remember that two people ahead of me, a fat man, fainted. And the ones who endure to the end are the warriors, because that’s a way to test the toughness of man, the fortitude. If you go out at the beginning you are a weak guy, but as you endure more, you are more of a warrior, and if you endure to the end you are the best, the best warriors. As you go on there are people who retreat because they can’t hold on, but to get out there is a ceremony as well. You can’t leave from the left, you have to leave from the right, so the one who is next to the door is the first one who can leave, but if you are in the center of the circle you have to turn around and bow to an idol. In the first session I held on to the end with difficulty, almost fainting, and it was forty-five minutes inside.

Sometimes there is even a third round, because up to fifteen hot stones are placed, but that is already unsustainable.

You have to have a very strong willpower to stand up, you can hardly breathe, all you breathe is very hot air. You can’t drink water, you get dehydrated, when you go out you take the fresh air from outside, and when the ceremony is over they give you water, a soft drink that they make, and they put a cape over you, then they smoke the pipe of peace, they do some rituals with some maracas, and they sing.

Another part of the ceremony is that you have to bathe in mud, they put together a pool of dirty water, and you have to get into it. That is another experience.

In these ceremonies not only the spirit is cleansed, but you acquire strong indigenous protections. These are things that happen, curious things. Whether they work or not is debatable, but it was a nice experience. Then I participated in two or three more ceremonies, but in the end I didn’t continue going because I realized that it was taking a mafia-like turn. I really felt sorry about that, because it had been an interesting experience with the Indians.

I was never and never wanted to be the leader of the Cubans in prison, I always refused to be, but I was forced by circumstances, that would be the best definition. Whether I wanted to or not, they put me there. I refused, even my colleagues in the Interests Section in Washington told me not to do it, and it was logical, I could not be the head of any mafia, but circumstances lead you to make decisions whether you want to or not, because the situation was very difficult, very complex. They put you in such a delicate position that if you don’t involve yourself, the problem comes up, and I preferred to avoid it not only for the sake of all Cubans, but for my own sake as well. To see myself involved in a fight or a murder was something huge. I always thought, it is better to deal with a problem face on, and solve it, than for it to come from behind my back. The other thing is that the Cubans used to say: “You are the boss of us”, and although I made it clear to them that I was not the boss of anything, when the time came they always came to talk to me, so I would go and talk to the other groups and many times I would solve the problems. The situation of extreme violence to which we were subjected almost all the time challenged the five of us, for the fact of knowing how to express ourselves correctly and in a different way, mastering the English language, and knowing how to relate and look for less violent solutions. This meant that we were seen as leaders of the groups of Cubans in the prisons where we were, which caused certain problems, because sometimes there would be a conflict with the Cubans and they would come to see me and say: “Hey, tell so-and-so to behave himself”, because otherwise we are going to kill him.

To be or not to be a boss in prison?

I was never and never wanted to be the leader of the Cubans in prison, I always refused to be, but I was forced by circumstances, that would be the best explanation. Whether I wanted to or not, they put me there. I refused, even my colleagues in the Cuban Interests Section in Washington told me not to do it, and it was logical. I could not be the head of any mafia, but circumstances lead you to make decisions whether you want to or not, because the situation was very difficult, very complex. They put you in such a delicate position that if you don’t deal with it head on, the problem comes up, and I preferred to avoid it not only for the sake of all Cubans, but for my own sake as well. To see myself involved in a fight or a murder was something huge. I always thought,

it is better for the problem to come from the front and solve it, than for it to come from behind my back. The other thing is that the Cubans used to say: “You are the boss of us”, and although I made it clear to them that I was not the boss of anything, when the time came, they always came to talk to me, so I would go and talk to the other groups and many times I would solve the problems. The situation of extreme violence to which we were subjected almost all the time challenged the five of us, for the fact of knowing how to express ourselves correctly and in a different way, mastering the English language, and knowing how to relate and look for less violent solutions. This meant that we were seen as leaders of the groups of Cubans in the prisons where we were. This caused certain problems, because sometimes there would be a conflict with the Cubans and they would come to see me and say: “Hey, tell so-and-so to behave himself because otherwise we are going to kill him.”

That created a complex situation, because we didn’t want to get into conflicts, but if you didn’t and turned your back on it, the problem would come up anyway, so it was better to try to solve it. And that’s what I did.

Rafael Garden

What I am telling you now is a most comical episode, these are things one learns in prison. Once a Cuban arrived at the prison who was called Garden, Rafael Garden was his name. He was a very nice guy, charismatic, he wore little mirrors, and had some gold chains, the man was quite a character and very intelligent, brilliant.

The Garden took advantage of his stay in the prison population’s camp out and began to convince several inmates to put money in his account, and he was going to give “a gift” to all of them. And here is the coded language, “the gift” was that he was going to introduce drugs into the prison through a girlfriend he had, and during the visit he was going to bring in the merchandise, and he was going to distribute it, and whoever paid him was going to have preference in the amount. So the man would go and talk to the heads of the mafias, to many prisoners, he even convinced a Cuban who was called “El Ruso”, who was a “jodedor” who thought he knew everything, to lend him his gold chain and wear it when he went to the visit where his girlfriend would come, that’s what he said, but in reality what he wanted was to steal the chain from El Ruso.

Garden had managed to accumulate in his account about four thousand dollars, because they were sending him money for the Bureau of Prisons, a thousand dollars, five hundred dollars, like that, and until the last minute he tried to con El Ruso into lending him the chain, so that he could go to the visit with his girlfriend. A roguish thing to do.

Everything worked until the man collected four thousand dollars, and then he went to the hole. He went from prison to prison stealing from anyone who believed him. He was a bastard who convinced you, because he had a serious face, he befriended you, he said he was a mafioso, and that’s how he swindled a thousand people. That was the famous Garden. It makes me laugh, but he created a problem for us, because afterwards those inmates came to ask us Cubans for money.

In the end El Ruso didn’t lend him the gold chain, so he saved it. There is one thing about prison that works: if you are a fool, you pay for being a fool. Prison is not for fools, prison is for guys who are evil. That’s what guys like Garden taught me.