Taran Wanderer: Dental Assistant to Acapulco Inmates

:)  First, you should read this:  http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/prostitutes-drugs-and-peacocks-inmates-go-loco-in-acapulco-prison-6259149.html

After getting bit by a dog on an 11pm run, at 4:30am we rolled out of bed, packed the truck, and were off on our Missions Trip to Acapulco, supposedly, to help out at a women's prison there.  Now, if you're imagining a typical US prison, long halls and rows of cells, you'd be wrong.  This prison was more like a Mexican village surrounded by a 20-foot-high wall, complete with small shops, a gym, and lots of trees.  I at once saw the advantage of this laid-back atmosphere--and also realized how many Mexican prisons end up being run by the inmates themselves.

So around noon we walk into this prison and well, there's a bunch of guys.  There are also women, but most of them seem to belong to one of the guys (I wish that was an insensitive macho statement on my part).  I looked around for kids, which is where I usually focus my efforts, but Victor directed me to help out the Dentists.  So, fifteen minutes later we had unpacked three dental stations and I learned that "tres por uno" means the dentist wants a mirror, an explorer, and a pair of tweezers.  It was a little frustrating to be on call and busy for all of two days, but considering we went through about 50 patients and had a good 50 more who would've liked to be seen, I think my work was important.  

However, I missed out on most of the amazing stories that the evangelists:  Becky, Rosa (the cook at Refuge Ranch and my housemate), and Silvina (a visiting Argentinian) heard.  It was pretty intense.  Rosa was telling me many of the inmates had never been sentenced, and that some of the young women had just been picked up with the purpose of making them into prostitutes.  The women, although they had a separate wing, mingled freely with the men.  A handful of them had children that had been born since incarceration, and apparently the kids live in the prison with their mothers until at least 13, walking down the street to the local school.

One night, we left the church where the girls were staying unlocked, promising to come back with the key.  The church planter who was with us was like "Uh, it's after 9pm, they'll kill us."  We had to pass through clearly marked territory of at least three gangs to get there.  But, with a prayer and all eyes scanning the streets the whole way there, we went.  I was scared, and thinking "are we being stupid?"  But the thought of the unlocked gate at the church full of women made me even more nervous.

The most prominent gang grafitti was by a gang clique called the "Chicanoz," which if my reading is correct, was an MS13 clique.  Chicanos are Mexican-Americans, (I took a class on their literature once) and the LA gangster deported to rule the streets of Central America is sadly a very common one.  MS13, perhaps the most powerful street gang in the world at present (Mafias and Cartels are different), was founded by deported Central Americans.  But as ugly as that reality is, there is also hope.  I know of at least three deported Guatemalan gangsters who are working as pastors in the worst parts of Guatemala City after they came to Christ through prison ministries in the United States.

Back at the Acapulco prison, the deportees were the ones who sought me out most frequently.  Many people thought that, as the blue-eyed American, I'd be in charge or something, or perhaps more gullible and freely giving with our supplies. (Let's just say the painkillers disappeared pretty quickly, and a handful of "gopher" types were going around asking everyone for things like toothpaste to barter with.  I nearly kicked one of these guys out, but after directing three different staff members NOT to give him anything, he got the hint and left.)  But the deportees wanted to talk, swap stories and such.  "I grew up in Idaho" one man told me.  "And then they deported me."  While I know that they committed crimes, it was strange to see these Unfortunately, I only really talked to Chris, a vacationer from Cali who got drunk, was accused of murder, and landed in prison.  A couple years in, he still hasn't been sentenced.  From the gym, "Stayin Alive" and L'il Wayne blares above the crowd.



The most powerful moment was when the prison church treated us to Rice and Beans.  On the one hand, I felt terrible knowing that it must have taken a lot of work to secure all this and cook it and then give it away  I wanted to leave it for someone else to eat.  On the other hand, I felt terrible that some of the other people on our missions team weren't finishing their bowls, so I finished three.  Hospitality from inmates isn't something you expect, especially not a home-cooked meal, but it was really powerful that they wanted to minister to us in that way.  Although I had spent two days trying to help, there was nothing I could do to deserve that kind of love.