Dancing is an art. It amazes me how our body can easily move to the beat of any music. If we really listen to music we can move every part of our body: feet, hips, shoulders, arms, etc., even our heart and soul to every note of a song like the stars in the sky.

I love to dance and I use dancing for therapy, especially in my last 10 grim years of incarceration. I dance in my cubicle by myself, I dance on the track when I am jogging or walking, I dance in my workplace (only when I am by myself and no police are around), I dance in the shower (without music), I dance everywhere and anytime that the notes of a song touch my heart. If I am feeling depressed, homesick or feeling miserable as a prisoner, I turn on my radio (with head-phones) and I dance. Within a few seconds, I am full of energy, happy and looking forward to the future. Dancing is better than Prozac, Xanax, Wellbutron, or any illegal or legal anti depressant drugs.

A few months ago I was reading an article in the newspaper about ballet classes being taught to female prisoners in Japan. In the picture, the faces of the female prisoners were so relaxed and peaceful while they were performing their ballet routine. Then a few weeks later, on the TV I saw a program that presented a dancing school for children with disabilities (Down Syndrome, Autism, etc) and a couple of children with Down Syndrome performed a dance. Their faces reflected concentration, pride and happiness and they performed perfectly. I said to myself: "Dancing is good for people, especially children and women with mental illness and disabilities". At that moment I made the decision to make a schedule in my busy life to volunteer myself to teach dance class. So on February 11, 2006 my Modern Dance class started: a two hour class on Saturdays (6-8 pm). I teach mambo, cha-cha-cha, samba, merengue, salsa and African beats. It is a hard routine.

Around the same time that my class started, a lady from Cuba self-surrendered to this institution. From the day she walked in, we all knew that she had mental problems: she did not sleep, she walked around all night, talked and walked tirelessly. One day she had a nervous break-down during mass. It is very sad to see a human being in that stage of mental disbalance-- she crawled on the floor, hung on the altar, was pulling at the priest's cloths, screaming incoherent words and crying like a child. We did not know what to do. She was taken to an isolation cell or watch cell, which is a cell with a big window that you are under watch 24-7. When she came back from the isolation cell she was like a zombie.

Some of my students invited her to my dance class and the first day that she came, she sat in a corner (holding her knees) and just watched me and the students. The second time she did not sit, she said she was going to try it, and stayed in the back of the class. When it was time to start I said to my students: "positions, on the count of 5 we will start with the right foot." I always turn my back to my students so they can see the movement and we can turn right and left together. After we started I said, "Get ready for the routine. Do not forget, back straight, suck your stomach in, breasts out, shoulders back, move your hips with elegance, your fingers softly extended. Now, travel to the right, to the left, getting ready to turn. When we turn, lift your leg with elegance, raise your arms and jump." I continued and said, "Do not forget your hips. Move your hips with the sound of the music." The music is on loud. I am giving the instructions louder. Everybody is sweating, so I turned to see how my students were doing and I saw the lady jumping, smiling and following the routine perfectly with such joy. I could not believe it. I started jumping and saying to myself, "I did it! I did it! I made her smile and enjoy life!" After the class was over, all my students congratulated her. She came to me and said, "Thanks Guanipa. This is the first time in my life that I did not need a pill to feel happy." I was convinced at that moment that a dance class is a good therapy, and if it takes us away from prison life for just a few short hours and makes us happy, maybe it is something to be considered as a positive activity in our meaningless prison lives.

I love you all. Yraida Guanipa (Leo)

Love (for me) is a total surrender of yourself (mind, body & soul), an unconditional giving. There are different kinds of love, love for animals, mother's love, love for plants, couple's love, etc. I want to talk about love between couples, even though I am not an expert in the matter of love because I have only one love in my life. I fell in love with my husband and the father of my sons when I was 13 years old, it was a true and one time love. Pure, unconditional, beautiful and without limits kind of love. I truly loved him. During my 10 grim years of incarceration, the pain and the suffering from being away from my sons is so deep that there has been no room in my life/heart for love, however I have witnessed all kinds of couple's love, even the unthinkable ones. I truly believe that there is a part of us that never grows, the child inside us dies when we die. When I see how couples fall in love inside prison, it brings back memories of my high-school years, like sending little notes to each other, offering candy, talking with their eyes, sending messages with a third party of where to meet, etc. I have seen officers , even executive officers falling in love with inmates, I know what they went through to maintain their relationship inside prison, how they hid themselves inside freezer, warehouses, etc, to kiss each other or have sex, how they had to ignore each other in front of others, how they sent anonymous notes to each other and in the end, the officer leaves everything, job, wife, government benefits, even the country to marry the inmate upon her release. I also have seen how officers abuse and lie to inmates to gain sexual favors. There are some, wild, crazy and violent love affairs too, like the ones between inmates (same sex) some of them physically abuse each other, fight with others to defend there lovers, wiling to go to the shu (hole) and have 2 or 3 lovers at the same time, there is also love between prisoners by letter from one prison to another, love between drivers (UPS< DHL< truck drivers, etc) and inmates, outside contractors and inmates, inmates with other inmate's famly or relative, etc, but there is one instance of love that I admired and enjoy watching and it is of my co-worker's. She is over 60 and her husband is over 70, he is at the nedium facility, and he is very sick (in a wheelchair), another prisoner carries him around. Every morning he stands close to the wire fence to see her pass by. The distance is about 100 yards and there is a thick wire fence in between, the vision is blurry, neither can see each other clearly, so they both use a white piece of cloth to wave to each other. He does not like her to see him in the weelchair so, he stands just to wave at her, after they wave to each other they go inside and write a letter to each other every day. They both have to be very carefull because if the authorities find-out that they wave to each other, she will receive an incident report, will be shipped out of the camp and he will be sent to the SHU (hole). No matter how cold or hot it may be, he is always there on the other side of the fence waiting for her. They have been married for over 40 years they are firs-time, non-violent offenders, no drug, medicare or identity theft charge, but they both receive a 20 years sentence. I belive that he will die inside prison and she will not be by his side. We do not have the gas-chambers like in the NAZI era but we do have draconian sentences that an elderly will not survive and no human being should have to endure. I love you all. Yraida

Last October 4, 2005(Tuesday) the USA Today published an article by Toby Muse. The article was titled: "In Colombia beauty is in the eyes of the prisoner"; the article stated: " Nation's passion for pageants extends to inside cellblocks" even a picture of the pageant winner w as published, the female prisoner in a Queen's outfit with a crown. It called my attention that the writer said: "nation's passion" (Colombia). I do not know Mr. Muse, or where he is from; but in the article He portrays that beauty pageants inside prison's happen only in Colombia due to that "nation's passion for pageants". I believe that Mr. Muse as well as the rest of my fellow american citizen's is unaware of what happens inside our nation's prisons. Here Mr. Muse in the United States of America at least in Federal prisons, we have not only one; but at least 2 and sometimes 3 beauty pageants each year. During the Hispanic Heritage celebrations (Sept-Oct) one of the activities is a beauty pageant, 21 female prisoners are selected to represent each Hispanic country and one is selected as Ms. Hispanic; also during the Black History Month (February) a top model is selected between 10 or more models to be the beauty for black history month; further in some prisons a Miss. USA is selected for the 4th of July activities. In the pageants, the prisoners wear dresses designed and made by other prisoners; and some of the dresses are just gorgeous, long gowns with shoulderless, backs, legs or open midsection dresses, with prison made earrings andtiaras. Lots of make-up are worn and they walk, model and are interviewed like in a real beuaty pageant. We even have judges (correctional officers) to vote and select the beauty. (You may be able to see a picture on this e-mail). I do not know whether it is a Colombia or the United States' passion forpageants or it is a prisoner's survival tool, especially female prisoners, I am not a sociologist, criminologist or pyschologist I am only speaking from my experience. Furthermore whether it is a female or a male issue, I do not know either because I have been told by some correctional officers that the male's have pageant too. But there is something that I know; and it is that it is sad very sad that our journalists and the american people Do not know what happens inside our prisons. America and the world were in shock when they saw the pictures from Abu Ghraih prison in Iraq; and our politicians, lawmakers, and regualr citizens said that: '"Well that does not happen here at home"; if the persons who did that to the Abu Ghraih prisoners were american correctional officers trained in USA and former employees of our correctional system what makes us think that that abuse does not happen here at home?. As many of you, including USA Today, did not know about our 3 Beauty pageants per year inside our nation's prisons, you also may not be aware of the slave labor, rape, torture, abuse, lack of medical assistance, inhumane sanitation, and more that is happening inside our nation's prison system due toour nation's passion for the incarceration of first time, non-violent offenders. I love you all Yraida (Leo).

It was Tuesday February 22-06. I got-up lake because I did not have to work that day.Late for me means 6:30 am, so at 7:30 am I was walking my first lap of my 3 mile goal for that day. I turned-on my radio to listen the news and the first news that I heard was "A Toilet Paper deadly fight" the news reporter continued and said: "at Marion County Jail an inmate killed his roommate over a toilet paper fight". I stopped my walking and I wanted to cry. Ten thousands thoughts came to my mind. I was placing myself in everyone shoes, I was feeling sorry for the person that was killed. I was trying to comprenhend the prisoner who killed his roommate; I was wondering how desperate he was, and I also wondered how violent or "animal instints" easily arise in prison environment, and how the authorities were partially responsable for the death of that prisoner.
Please do not take me wrong or believe that I am justifying the prisoner who killed his rommate, but we are in situations (provocated by the authorities) that put us in a positions or desperate circumstances that we have no option but to lie, steal and I guess for some, even kill. The toilet paper news hit me so hard because just two days before I was so desperate for toilet paper that I had to steal literately "STEAL" toilet paper from the yard bathroom, while I was sticking the toilet paper inside my pants and fitting the toilet paper so that an officer or other inmate would not notice the lump on my body, I was feeling sorry for myself and I was wondering how far I had to go in order for me to survive. I have bleeding problem and I usually prepare myself in advance with enought supplies for my cycle but last weekend I was bleeeding out of my cycle, and I did not have enought toilet paper. Further I was not aware that the new counselor had decided to close the toilet paper supply room on weekends. Lately every day things change inside prison due to budget problems. Last year we were told that no toilet paper was going to be placed in the bathroom and that each one of us had to go to another unit upstairs to a special room to pick-up toilet paper at specific times. Half of the time the room is closed, for some reason such us the officer did not open the room, or the inmate incharge is at church, etc, etc. Further the time to pick-up the toilet paper is the same time that you are allowed to talk to the asuthorities, take a shower, go to work, etc, etc. Weekends were the easiest days to pick-up toilet paper and the counselor just changed the schedule, and I did not know. I could not ask any of my fellow prisoners because all are in the same situation as I am, saving and hidding their toilet paper. I never thought that being desperate for a piece of toilet paper was going to be part of my sentence.
Well I am not the only female prisoner with bledding problems, furthermore there are thousands of female prisoners with diarrea, bladder problems and many elderly female prisoners with all kind of complications. Can you picture the mental state of a prisoner inside a cell with a diarrea problem, with no toilet paper and getting no help from either the authorities or his cellmate? no matter how stressful he/she may be it is not a reason to kill, but it is absolutely a reason for our lawmakers and judges to rethink before impossing those draconian sentences for first-time, non-violent offenders and/or reinstate parole for federal prisoners. I love you all. Yraida (Leo)

This week's tenant from my other blog is an artist with a beautiful blog. Please take a few minutes and look around. It features the art of Winsome Gunning. Enjoy!

More than a decade ago our society complained to ourlaw makers that the prison grounds were looking nicer than their yards. The society claims that prisoners should not allowed nor have the pleasure to enjoy a beautiful landscape on prison grounds. Our lawmakers agreed with their contingents and passed a law that barred prisons from growing any type of flowers. FCC Coleman fell into that category and you do not see any flowers around the complex. I love flowers and I truly enjoy gardening and I was missing that. In 1999 the authorities sent me to work at the Powerhouse of the Men facility (Medium). When I got there the place was ugly, so I chose to change the look of the building and I painted the entire building, windows and doors, I waxed the floors etc, etc, after I finished I felt that something was missing so I decided to make a little garden in front of the building. With my supervisor's approval, and some help of other staff and some fellow prisoners I made a small garden with boxwood, lirope, azalea and mexican heather, aloe vera, white limestone and landscape timbers, all perfectly arranged. I took care of my garden on a daily basis, and I enjoyed looking at the butterflyes of different colors landing on the purple flowers of the mexican heather or the lily flowers of lirope. I left Coleman-Camp in 2000 (Due to my hungry strikre) and when I came back in 2003 I was assigned to the same job and my little garden was still there, a little bit abandoned, but still there, then I decides to make a vegetable garden, next to my flower garden and of course I did not have any seeds to grow. I had to come up with a plan, after a few days I choose to grow tomatoes and the plan was to take the seeds from my tomatoes ,instead of eat the seeds I was going to smugle the seed from the dining hall and I did it until one day a staff was padding us down outside the dining hall and I was scared to be caught with the tomato seeds inside my pocket. The officer did not notice the seeds and I was safe. I thought that the risk was worth it when I saw the beautiful tomatoes in my vegetable garden. I shared the tomatoes with my fellow prisoners and I ate the last tomato out of my garden. However, I did not want to take the risk again of smuggling the seeds from the dining hall, so I decided to grow fruits from the fruits they sell to us in commissary. So I grew lemon, orange, avocado and a mango tree, but I encoutered another problem the plants were too big for my little vegetable garden, then I made another space for the fruit plants with white limestone, landscape timbers, etc, etc, nicely arranged. For the last few weeks I have been working in my garden, cleaning, trimming and pruning. Some plants had grown very big like my aloe vera I call her my "Lion King" She gave us two huge, tall gorgeous flowers few months ago. While I was gardening yesterday I was thinking what I was going to grow in my vegetable garden, I said to myself: "I can not steal more tomatoe seeds from my own salad, I can not grow fruit, what I am going to grow?" I thought about pineaples. I love pineaple and the pineaple plant is small and beautiful, but how do I find a pineaple? while I was lost in my thoughts I was trying to comprehend why society is till so harsh with prisoners (first-time, non-violent offenders) what damage or who will be hurt if we prisoners learn horticulture skills while keeping the prison grounds looking nice. I know that social change takes time, but I hope that soon society will change their view about first-time, non-violent offenders, so in the future a prisoner does not have to smuggle tomatoe seeds out of his/her salad and take the risk to be punish for it. We live in a violent society ... look at the news every day besides being away from our family. Why not brighten our day with life's simple and natural pleasures. It is for all of our benefits. I love you all. Yraida (Leo).

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I have met a nice, lonely prisoner who is looking for a penpal. He is incarcerated in New Jersey and would like especially female penpals. He is not looking for money or a relationship, just a friend that he can write to. If interested, please email me at prisontalk@hotmail.com and I will give you his address to write him.

Dear friends; one of my fellow prisoner left the following article on my bunk bed, I asked everybody around my cubicle if they saw anybody in my room, nobody saw anybody I do not know who drop the article, some of my fellow prisoners know that I write theis PTO and that I write for some newsletters, so I concluded that the one who wrote the article wish to be hear. Here is her article
" NO CINDERELLA STORY"
"This story is based on facts seen and experienced in the federal prison system. Location and names are not provided for fear of retaliation against the inmate who wrote the article.
The term "Sanitation" means the measures taken to promote health and to prevent disease. In the prison system there is no such word. The word is fictional on a daily basis and only comes into play when we have some sort of ACA inspection and that comes every 3 years.
I live in a female prison camp, and I can say that I am throroughly repulsed by the state and condition of our lavatory, bathroom and shower stalls. I live in a camp environment where there are no fences, where in fact we can walk out of here at any given time if we choose to do so. We are nonviolent women and many are professionals. We live here because we have to and have no other choice. At home we choose to disinfect and clean with chemicals that work for us. In the prison the system we are forced to live in circumstances that remind me only of a third world country without the luxuries of chemical cleaning supplies. Our shower stalls are especially horrific. The mold is removed with shampoo and a limited supply of scrubbing powder on a daily basis only to come back again the next day. Some showers were covered in a fibergalss coating and fastened to the walls. The mold is growing behind the fiberglass covering and is growing into the caulking on the corners of the shower stall and cannot be removed with the products that are given to us. There was a time that we were giving us bleach, but they claim it is a safety issue. The word "Safety" is a relative term when the fact is that many of us work with more dangerous things such as power tools, heavy equipment, forklifts, power jacks and many other things that are more a "Safety" issue than the so called "Bleach".
The sanitation issue also brings the effects of many mysterious ailments, such as fungus, boils, inflamations, staff infections and a number of strange skin irritations. Never in my life have I ever seen so many ailments caused by sanitation issues. Is it really a safety issue or is it the reality that our federal government, either does not have money to provide us with these necessities or does not care one way or another about our health. I find it a little hard to believe the former. The prison system receives about $23,000 per inmate on a yearly basis. What do they actually do with the money? I know we do not see it. The sanitation supplies are nonexistent and the food is getting worse every day. The medical department is pathetic and that is putting it mildly. Where does the money go and does anybody really care?."

I agree completely with what my fello prisoner wrote. I love you all. Yraida

Dear friends I wrote the following two poems and I want to share then with you all.

THE BEAUTY OF SADNESS
Enormour joy I found in my sadness
sagacious feelings sorround my kidness
the beauty of others I see thru my sadness
my arrogance is replaced by compassion and tenderness
my sorrow is full of gentleness
I hug tomorrow with zeal and graciousness

Only when I am sad
my eyes can listen, my skin can see,
my ears can touch and my soul can grow
there is no difference between sad and joy
when you know how to touch your soul.

There, in my sadness stage
is that I can comprenhend and forget
my sister's lack of care
my neighboor's addiction and dulcet
my husband's silence and even wars and rage.

When I am sad
I write with words unknown in my joy stage
I truly enjoy my sadness
because it excentuates my six sense.


THE BIG BLACK SPIDER
The sun is coming out
in front of my window glass
God Morning Baby!, I said
and she stops her scrawing on the window glass
to make a reply with one of her arms
she is my pet and friend
the big black spider on my window glass.

She is out of her house inside the window base
looking for a bite and to say Hi!.
She has grown to such a big size
looking strong and innocent at times
not too long ago she was born from an egg-bag
and she has been my pet and friend from day one.

At lunch break when she hears my voice
she comes to the spot where we talk
I tell her if I am upset, need a hug or a thanks.
I know she understands and feel what is inside my heart
because she either stays or
shapes her arm to say good-by.

When the day is over she is waiting on the window glass
she turns around and moves her feet and arms
like saying I am glad you came back
we talk for a while until I say: "Good Night".

One day I did not see her and I was thinking to end her life
because I had learned as a child
that the big spiders are dangerous and wild.
But when I saw her again, I knew she was scared
and I could not kill her.

I do not comprenhend
why I am not afraid of her
I guess because it is easy to talk with her
than the human with whom I share my cell.

I moved far away, I wonder if the new guest
had taken my spider to her end.
I also wonder if time has make me humanless.
It is hard to say and difficult to understand.

I love you all. Yraida (Leo)

 

 

We (society) have the misconception that people change when we enter prison, I do not think that we change a lot, we accomodate to our lifestyle in prison environment, but in general our lifestyles are the same, what I mean are those who love to watch TV will continue to watch TV inside prison, those who love to read, sleep, play table games, study, etc, etc will continue doing so inside prison. For me, beside being away from my sons, there are 2 things that have been hard to accomodate; one is silence. I love silence or quiet places and the second is my bathing time. Waters soothers my body, spirit and soul. I truly enjoy water, either a shower, a bath-tub, a jacuzzi, a swimming pool, the ocean and even the rain. Water relaxs me, helps for meditation and allows me to be in touch with myself. I did not know what I was capable of defending my bathing time and looking back, it really surprises me what I did at the begginning of my incarceration. I was at FCI Tallahassee in 1996 and there were only 2 showers for 32 prisoners. I was in line waiting for 30 minutes to take my shower, I was the last in the line at 6 am. Suddendly, another prisoner jumped from her bunk and wanted to take a shower before me, because they all knew that I took long showers. I said to her that i was not going to allow her to jump in front of me; that particular lady was just transferred from a maximum security facility and she claimed to be very violent and that she had committed violent crimes with all kind of guns. And there I was a very peaceful and non-violent person arguing with that demented lunatic lady. She gave me an ugly look and said to me "b..., your m... f...., you donot tell me what to do, I will jump in front of you even if I have to kill you", I said: "well I guess you are going to have to kill me"; she was very angry and said that she had a razor put together like a knife and that she was going to slice my neck. I do not know where I got the strength from, I jumped inside the shoer and told her "you better go and get your knife". I heard her running to get her knife and fighting with 4 other ladies that were trying to stop her. In the meantime I was scared to death inside the shower. My body was shaking and I was praying to 10000 saints in heaven, but I took my time taking my shower and nothing happened to me. From that day on I gained respect for my bathing time, never again was I threatened for spending 20 minutes to my lengthy 2 and 1/2 hours in the shower.
That Long? you would ask. Yes! during my shower I meditate, I check my body for signs of age, I take a good care of my skin, I scrub, oil and I massage my entire body. I also very careful and delicately shave different parts of my body including my toe-fingers ( a foot with hair on it does not look feminine). further, the shower is the only semi private place in where you can touch any part of your body without being scrutinized; like me, each of my fellow prisoners jhave their own preferences, some like to have sex with other female; others like to play or satisfy themselves, or play with the shower head or just sit under the shower. But there are others that like to defecate inside the shower, or spread their menstrual cycle blood around the shower, leave their dirty pads stuck to the wall of the shower, etc, etc.
Our unit manager called for a twon hall meeting,he said that he was sad to see that from a female , he went on and on clearly, and brutally honest described what he had seen in the showers with the men. He told us that the men defecated a lot in the showers due to the homosexual activities and that they also make hand print around the shower wall with their stoll. Walking inside a shower and finding it with stool or blood all around is definetely not a nice picture, neither is the uncertainty of taking a shower in a place that you do not know what another prisoner may have done previously.Unfortunately that is part of our sentence. I love you all Yraida.

Two weeks ago we were called by the Unit Manager to a Town Hall meeting. He began the meeting by saying: "do not shoot the messanger!. This is an order from mr. Lappin [BOP's Director] from Washington;" He continued and said: "due to Washington's new policy to unify all federal prisons, straring February 1, 2006 you all will get rid of one locker; you can no longer have two lockers for your personal items". The reply from my fellow prisoners was shock and dissapointment.
two weeks had passed and the ladies did not stop talking about the lockers, some got headaches, stomach-aches, vomiting, arguments and crying fits; others put on their strategic hats in plans to install two additional metal shelves in the locker that we will keep. For days all you heard was the run..run..run.. of the power drills drilling the holes for the shelves and the boom..., boom..., boom.... of the hammers installing the shelves. A team of ladies worked hard for long hours and a few days. There were boxes, cloths and personal items all over the place because we had to empty our two lockers in other for the working team to take the two shelves out of one locker and install them in the other locker. There are over 500 inmates at the camp so we are talking about over 1000 lockers. As you can imagine it is not an easy task to empty 4 lockers in a 8'x10' cubicle and place your personal property unsecured around the cubicle (yes there are some that steal in here).
The mess, the drama from a few ladies and the loud noise of the hammers and drills on the metal clanging was driving me insane. I choose to walk and walk like a maniac to keep myself out of the housing units' drama; when I was peaceful walking my third mile round, a fellow prisoner asked me: "Guanipa, why haven't you said anything about the lockers; you have been incarcerated for almost 10 years, you must have lots of property"; I answered to her: "I have never accumulated or bought more than what I really need"; then she asked me: "so, you don't mind?", I replied: "no, I really do not"; she said: "why"; I responded: "because I wholeheartdly and mindfully refuse to get attached to anything in prison; I do not belong here, this is just temporary"; then I stoped my walking and looked into her eyes and said to her: "when I entered prison 10 years ago and I was not able to hold my sons in my arms anymore, I learned that it is not worth it to get attached to any material thing in life; if I have to wear raggedy cloths and overused shoes I will be proud as long as I am able to hold my sons in my arms every day".
Dear friends you may wonder why we had such drama for the locker issue. It is not easy to live in a 24"x38" metal locker; just imagine for a second having all your personal property inside a 24"x38' locker; your cloths, legal documents, food, hygiene products, medicine, educational material, books, magazines and dishes, also our female items such as: make-up, manicure, pedicure set, rollers, combs, brushes, hair accessories, etc, etc, etc..... How we do that? Sometimes it amazes me how we humans get adjusted to almost everything in life; however keep in mind that we shall get adjusted only to the small space but never to the prison environment.
The purpose of the present draconian sentences is for us to get adjusted to prison and take prison time as part of our normal life's path; do not get your mind distracted with that; because in a civilized and democratic society, social problems can not be resolved with long prison term inside a two person 8'x10' cubicle with one and one only 24"x38" metal locker. I love you all. Yraida (Leo).

For 2 hours I stared at my sons, just enjoying how they were peacefully sleeping and holding me. It was around 5:00a.m. when I had a desire to turn to my childhood and be close to my mother, so I went to my mom's bed and layed down very close to her for 1 hour.
Suddendly I felt a need to be a sister too and I went to my sister's bed and also layd down next to her for an hour. By that time it was around 7;30a.m., and time for me to get-up. When I was in my way to the bathroom my youngest nephew (Gabriel-5) was coming downstairs and when he saw me, he said: "Tia Leo (aunt Leo) can you sleep with me?. I feel alone, everybody is sleeping"; I hugged him and said: "of course my darling, it will be my pleasure". Well, I did have an opportunity to be an aunt also. He fell asleep on my chest and I stared at him for a while, thenI got-up. I wanted to start fixing the breakfast for my family, wash my sons' cloths and just enjoy house chores that sometimes, we mothers hate. I took the dishes out of the dishwaher, swep the kitchen; I never thought that I was going to be so happy doing house chores. I guess we just take so many things for granted in life.
My brother, sister and my brother'n law finished the meal and we all had a great and big brunch meal that we all enjoyed, specially me. There were dishes that I had not eaten in almost 10 years. I later spent some time alone with my sons, then they begged me to take them to the swimming pool. It was the first time in my life that my sons and nephews were begging me. How can I say no. I said: "Ok, just for 2 hours; it is almost time for mommie to go back";I took them to the swimming pool but I did not want to swing, I said to them: "I am going to sit here just watching the four of you; do not cross that line, ok?" they all agreed.
For 2 hours I was like living a dream when I heard my sons and nephews say over and over again: "mommie look how I jump'; "mommie look, I know how to swim like a Dolphin"; "mommie look"; "mommie look"; tia (aunt) look"; "tia look"; ... I was proud of them and they were proud of themselves too.
I wanted the time to stop; i was not looking at the watch; I was loosing consicious of time/place and responsabilities; then I heard my mom calling me from the distance: "hija (daughther), it is time to go"; I did not want to hear that; she continued and said: "it is getting late and we may encounter some traffic"; my heart was falling apart. To get some strenght I choose to call a very special friend of mine, I called his 2 phone #'s and I got his answering machine; at that moment my mom was in front of me and said: "leo we must go now"; I said "oh yes, yes, let's go".
When we were getting close to the prison, my mom saw a tear rolling down on my cheeks and she sait to me: "do not think about going back; just think positive and think the good time that you just had and that your time is almost over." I took my mom's advice, but I must confess to all of you that it was very painful to say good by to my family and specially let my sons out of my arms. I love you all. Yraida (Leo)

 

 

 

Happy New Year to all of you. Yes I had a wonderful Christmas. I must confess to you that the days before my furlough I could hardly sleep. I was anxious, but mostly I was afraid to be like a foreigner to my family and my sons; however the minute that I walked out of prison they made me feel like I had never left them.
I am immensely greatful and thankful to my family; if there is something that I have learned in prison, it is the value of a family. My family has been my back bone during my 10 grim years of incarceration, they have helped me keep the bond with my sons. They have allowed me to participate and be aware of every detail of my son's lives. I believe that is the main reason why I did not feel like a foreigner with my family.
I can not express with words how amanzingly greatful I am to have them. They made my 36 hour furlough a thrilling and joyful experience full of love and happiness. They made sacrifies to make me feel like the most loved mom, daughther, sister, in law and friend; each one of them had a surprise for me during the entire 36 hours. My brother recorded a few CDs with all my favorite songs; as soon as I got in the rental car, he played my favorite songs. My youngest sister used her job's bonus to buy me in-styled cloths (too much styled for me) my special sister (Briglig) did not buy anything for herself this christmas and bought my favorite perfume, body lotion and body powder. She cooked some of my favorite dishes. My other sister had my son's clothes cleaned and organized and made sure that every detail went on as planned, also that everything in the rented apaartment was clean and spotless just the way I liked. My brother in law took care of my favorite treat to myself: a bath-tub with bubbles and scented oil, candles and music; he also made special snacks, took pictures and videos and play our family favorite games. My poor mother has been making so many sacrifies for me and my sons that there is no way that I could ever repay her. She made me Hallacas ( a venezuelan dish) the way I use to eat it at home. She was always asking me if I was happy and if I was satisfied with their agenda. Yes as usual she gave me my surprise christmas' present, but she did not place it under my bed; she asked my sons to give it to me.
I was not separated from my sons and from my nephfews (8 and 5) for the entire 36 hours (only when I took a shower) We went on a swing set, stay in the hot jacuzzi, we made christmas cards for all my family members; we watched T.V; we read books; we danced, we listened music and we talked a lot. I hugged and kissed the 4 of them all the time and the did the same to me. I ironed my son's cloths, helped them to get dressed, fixed their foods and much much more. The most precious moment was during our chritsmas dinner around 12 midmight, after one of the boys gave thenks for the food, I proceeded to give thanks to my family (speed that I prepared about 3 months ago) and each one of them also gave thanks to me. The last one was my youngest son Jeswil, he was sitting next to me; he is only 10 and he said: "mommie I want to thanks you because you gave me the most important thing in this world 'my life' ; I am grateful that you choose to bring me into this world, and I am grateful for having you as my mommie and my family". everyone of us cried. I hugged him very hard and told him that I was proud of him for being so wise at such an early age.
When we went to sleep, I crawed on the bed first and they came to me and grabbed me like when they were babies, before saying our good night prayer, I told Jeswil that I was very proud and also amazed of his speech he said: "mommie I mean it from my heart, there are women who kill their babies by abortion and you loved me since I was inside your womb". WOW! I was even more amazed. Yrwil hugged me and fell asleep on my chest and Jeswil fell asleep on my back; just like when they were babies. I thanks God for so much love. Yraida

 

 

 

 

 

I was born in CORO a very small city in Venezuela. The christmas tradition in my home town was to make the nativity scene, beautiful nativity scenes, big, small, out of wood, ceramic, cloth, etc, with lots of chritsmas lights, roads, animals and of course the Baby Jesus. Santa delivered the presents to your room and placed then under your bed, on your dresser or Santa would leave you a note telling you where to pick-up your present. As a child I truly enjoyed christmas time and I always anxiously awaited my present. Even after I found out that Santa was actually my mom, the excitement and the joy of receiving a present was still the same. I believe I was 10 when I found out that Santa was my mom and she always found a way to get in my room when I was dead asleep. I was never able to catch her and she always made sure that I got what I wanted. I vividly remember when I was 13 and I wanted a pair of roller skates, she had said that Santa would not bring me a pair of roller skates because it was dangerous to skate on the streets (there were no skating rinks in my home town) I knew in my heart that Santa was going to please me anyway. That year on christmas eve after our meal and mass I went to bed early and I was awake until 2:00 am waiting for Santa(mom) to enter my room, I fell asleep and later woke up at 5:00 am and I saw the pair of roller skates under my bed. I was the happiest child (teen) in the world. I got-up and I went outside to skate on the streets, I was smiling and full of joy.
My mother kept that tradition of bringing a christmas present to my room when I was asleep even after I got marriage and had my sons. When it was christmas time and my mother was around, I knew that I was going to find a very desirable present under my bed when I opened my eyes on christmas day early in the morning.
The christmas tradition in prison is to decorated the entire housing unit. The ladies work days and nights for weeks in advance and the decorations are awesome (a lot of imagination and creativity); this year the unit was decorated as Santa's workshop and each room was decorated with either the Jack-in-the-box, the rocking horse, or the noel building blocks. When the ladies were painting the toys; I said: "I would like to have a "Jack-in-the box" on the wall of my room and I was told that I could not pick out my toy, that whatever I got on my wall is what I would get. I said "OK." Then I went to sleep and the ladies were working until late that night, I woke-up around 2:30 am to go to the bathroom when I got-up and opened my eyes I saw the beautiful jack-in-the box posted on the wall in front of my room. I was so happy and I smiled like the jack-in-the-box. That moment brought back memories of my childhood and I though well: "this christmas my mom will be with me, I wonder what present she is going to put under my bed". Then I realized that she is going to bring my sons and they are going to be sleeping with me on my bed and when I open my eyes this christmas day at 5:00 am I am going to see my sons (on the outside for the first time in almost 10 years) I can not ask for a better present and I can assure you that I am going to be the happiest mom in the entire word. Spending my 36 hours furlough on christmas eve and christmas day with my beautiful boys will be the best gift, the joy of this occasion will be a much greater experience than the morning I woke up and got my first roller skates. MY GREATEST GIFT OF ALL: my sons YRWIL AND JESWIL. God bless you all and happy holidays. Yraida