Nos contamos a través de los muros (We Tell our Stories Through these Walls)

Last week, we held two book presentation events in Mérida. The first was at the Cereso de Mérida, during the closure of the writing workshop “Tardes de poesía.”

In Mexico the ending of classes is often marked with a closing celebration and the presentation of constancias, or special diplomas, which are saved and later presented as proof of curriculum. For prisoners, the constancias are added to their case files and can serve to prove good behavior in the case of an appeal in their case. It is common in these events that teachers bring food and drink and invite friends and institution officials to attend. Our closure was attended by the writer Verónica García Rodríguez, the poet Francisco Lope Ávila, the prison psychologist and former director of the CERESOFE (women’s prison) Karina Pérez Ramos, the Cereso’s Director of Education Felipe Lavadores, and Alejandro Herrera, sub-director of the Cereso. Most touchingly, a friend and former prisoner attended and spoke with the women, animating them to take advantage of the educational opportunities within the Cereso and build their skills so that when they leave it will be for good.

Each of the women took turns reading their stories from the book, which was published by local literary press Catarsis/ El Drenaje, out loud. When María José read “Torta de jamón,” a story about an erotic encounter among strangers, the prison guards listening through the windows cackled with laughter. Other stories in the collection include Yesli Dayanili Pech's Mis Ojos, a reflection on maternity in the Cereso; Shirley Tun's "El Encuentro", which is about meeting her father at the age of fifteen in a public park; Marisol Solís's "El camino a la iglesia", a social critique of the Church and a narrative about a mother-daughter relationship marked by absence and missed communication; Shirley's ghost story "La Clínica Oriente", a ghost story about a haunted abortion clinic; Yesli's "La Leyenda de Juan Pistolas", a version of the Huay-chivo myth from her hometown, the Mayan pueblo of Dzidzantún; and Amadeus's "La tierra de los Aluxes", about the mythical creatures said to haunt the jungles of the Mayab and a man who chooses to leave his own society and never return. As one reader remarked, the stories are for enjoyment, yet together they also reveal important insights into the social circumstances, preoccupations, cultural heritage and emotional landscapes of their writers. They also reveal a lot of talent, promise, critical thinking, hard work, and collaboration: important skills to possess and to continue to develop as their authors work toward the ultimate goal of social reinsertion or readaption. After the reading Felipe presented the constancias, we took pictures and celebrated with hojaldras, pastries filled with ham and cheese, and sodas.

On Friday we returned with finished copies of the book for the students. We sat around in a circle and they each individually shared thoughts about the workshop. They said they were touched to receive the books and seemed proud to have participated. They have complained that in the past other educators and writers have come through, taken their stories and not shared the finished books with them, or taken photos and not distributed copies. These reflections reminded me of the importance of giving back and sharing the fruits of students’ work with them directly. I also shared my gratitude to have had the opportunity to work with the women of the Cereso, who have transformed me with their courage and openness in ways I am only beginning to recognize.

Thursday night was the presentation of the book at a local café in the Centro, Apapacho. It has an organic garden and its walls are painted with murals. One of its owners, Anna Lorenz, runs a feminist bookstore in the café, where copies of the book are now for sale. Felipe, Karina and Lope and my friend the writer Zindy Abreu Barón also attended and spoke. Then we signed copies of the book, still warm off the presses. Albert presented an exhibit of the photos he took for the book as well. The event began at 6pm and did not end until 1am. We talked literature and prison politics and played chess until late into the night We also had an art exhibition upstairs of paintings by Uggo González, who designed the book cover, and fellow artists. Local writers and artists attended. It was ‘un éxito’ (a success) as Zindy commented, but the missing presence of the women of the Cereso was deeply felt. On the other hand, one of the goals of the project is to build awareness of issues faced by female prisoners in the community at large, as well as to build a network empathetic to their situation. And in Mexico, a spirit of celebration attends almost any gathering of friends and colleagues. I know that by the time I am able to return (hopefully next summer) three of the writers I worked with will have earned their freedom, and and my dream is to be able to read alongside them then.

Below are photos of photographer Albert Durán with his photo exhibit and book cover designer and artist Uggo González.