My Second 36 Hour Furlough

I am writing this PTO from my friend Carol's computer at her home with my sons on my lap. Yes, I am on my second 36 hour furlough.

I apologize for not notifying you of my furlough in advance and for not writing a PTO last week. The Reason: my furlough was on hold because my unit manager (the highest authority in the camp) does not like my PTO articles. A while ago I went to talk to him about something ( I can't recall what it was). He ended our conversation criticizing the articles that I write. He said that I was very negative; that have hate in my heart and that I should see life differently. I did not reply to his comment because I do understand that not everybody will like my writing, some will and some won't. A few days after our conversation he called for a town hall meeting and he said to all of us that some of us will never get anything accomplished because we see life under a negative glass and he said the same words that he had said to me in our previous meeting. I knew at that moment that he was truly upset with my writing and that the comment was meant for me.

I decided that I was going to avoid anything that would make me to talk to him and I also did not want to argue with him. Them ACA (American Correctional Accreditation) inspection came and they all got stressed ( I will write that inspection in a separate article), along with the (cinco de mayo) Mexican day of celebration. So he put together a Religious day off to every body. We also had special food that day and he was working very hard and putting extra hours. I saw him in the dining hall and he looked exhausted and he sat at a table by himself . I thought about the extra mile he goes for us, also that even though we have some disagreements, overall he is a good unit manager. It was on my mind to write a cop-out to him and give him thanks, but I decided at that moment to go over to his table and give thanks personally. I said to him, "Mr... I want to let you know that I am thankful for the good programs that you implemented at the camp such as Washington Mutual Bank Accounts, Toastmasters and the Unit Base Education Programs." I noticed a deep discomfort on his face as I was talking then and he said: "now Ms. Guanipa why don't write about that instead of writing about Draconian Sentences and that the unit manager said ...." and he went on and on . I said to him, "well I thought about writing about the Washington Mutual Banks Saving Accounts and if that pleases you I will definitely do it."

He continued quoting some of my PTO's and suddenly one of the Religious Volunteers is standing next to us with her meal tray in her hands and she said to him: " oh Mr.... this is a feast, this is a lot of food and really good food. Do "they" (us inmates) get this everyday?". He answered: "thank you, thank you, yes "they" do and you know what? "they" still complain." The lady looked at me with ugly face and left. After she was gone, I said to him "you see you know that we do not get this food everyday." He said, "What I meant was every Cinco De Mayo." I replied, "You did not say that to the lady... that is the point of our argument: you want to portray to society something different about prisoners and I write the truth about prisoners." He stopped me and angrily said that I was mislabeling his big brothers (The BOP). I was getting very uncomfortable and I was preparing my reply in legal terms when I guess he saw that on my face and he said, "Well, you are entitled to your opinion and there is nothing that I can do." I said, "Thank you."

In the meantime, I was waiting for my furlough papers to be signed by the warden, and they all kept telling me that the papers were in the warden's office. Since the paper work was taking too long I decided to ask my supervisor help and he found out that my papers were on hold by the Unit Manager for an action that I had made. My supervisor, the warden's secretary, and my chaplain came to my rescue and talked to the unit manager on my behalf and he agreed to release my papers. I went to ask him what was my action and he said, "It was concluded that you may be a threat because you might contact the media and manipulate the system." I was in such shock I could not believe such a kindergarten excuse, instead of telling me straight out that he is against my PTO's articles. He promised that I was going to be able to take my furlough and that it will be on time (it takes time to process those papers).

Then last Thursday, just one day before my furlough, I was still waiting for my papers and of course I was desperate. I was on my way to the counselor's office when I see the PA waving at me and calling me from across the compound. I was afraid to go because I was wearing shorts and I could not go to that area in shorts, so I said to her, "Look I am in shorts." She answered, "Do not worry." I went and the PA asked me to take a very ill and old lady to her unit. At first I hesitated. Then I said to the PA, "You better cover for me, because going to the lady's unit is out of bounds for me and I am taking a furlough this weekend and if i get an incident report I will not get my furlough." She said, "Go, I will cover you."

I was still hesitant because I do not like to do anything unless it is in writing and signed by the officer, but I look at the lady, and she was in very bad shape. She looked at me and said in a tumbling voice, "Guanipa I can not walk. Please go to my room and get my wheelchair and back and get me." I could not say no, however, that meant double the risk. I ran to get the wheelchair and came back to get the lady. While I was moving her, she was throwing up. The PA was gone and I was crossing to the camp officer station. I thought about notifying the officer about my second trip to an "out of bound" area for me, but the lady was so sick. I held the chair very tight and thought to myself, "My Dear sons Yrwil and Jeswil if I lose my furlough for helping this old and sick female prisoner I hope both of you will forgive me." Then something beautiful happened: I felt the embrace of my sons' arms and I saw their smiling faces saying, "Go mommie." The sensation was so real and powerful that I got the unmeasurable strength to take the lady to her room, clean her, put her in her bunk and look for someone to help her. Then I ran to the counselor's office and she said to me, "The warden just signed your papers a few minutes ago and the papers are on their way back."

Here I am enjoying my sons in my arms and wondering if it is worth it to put my next 7 day furlough and half way house at risk if I continue writing my PTO's from prison. But my dear friends, I feel that if I do not write to you I am as good as dead. The truth is important to me, and such it should be told.

I love you all.
Yraida (Leo) Guanipa

Feel free to share this article or write to me at:
Yraida L. Guanipa # 44865-004
PO Box 1027
Coleman, Fl. 33521-1027

What Happened to Freedom of Speech???

Please read the following letter from Yraida. She is being persecuted for writing these articles to us, the public. Apparently, SOME correctional officers in the BOP do not want us to know what is going on inside our prisons. If there is anyone out there with any suggestions or knowledgeable in law who can help, or even just offer their suggestions of what to do or what angle to attack this from, please post a comment at the bottom, or email us at prisontalk@hotmail.com. And by all means, please keep Yraida and her family in your prayers.

Dear Friends,

My PTO's articles have been under heavy scrutiny by SOME correctional officers. Apparently Some officers were offended with my writing and their decision was to hold off on some of my privileges. I made a commitment to write a PTO Article every week, I take my commitments very seriously and I do stick to them. Writing does no come easy to me, but I truly believe that a commitment that is easy is really not a commitment at all; and the joy comes from staying on course, when you know the winds are howling all around you.

Yes, I am very happy when I receive comments on my PTO's and to hear that my PTO articles have been used for educational or inspirational purposes, I am more able to endure the howling wind; 10 grim years of incarceration, a 17 day hunger strike and all types of retaliation have made me a very strong person and I can easily handle the rest of my sentence even if all of my privileges are taken away. But if any of the privileges taken away involves my family, I'd have to think twice. I am very grateful for the support, care and love from my family, the sacrifices that they have all made for me have been of paramount importance. Furthermore I would hurt me a great deal to take away the smiles from my son's faces, therefore, I would have to decide whether I continue my writing. Before I make a final decision I will take the time to talk to some of you who are lawyers including a former prosecutor.

Having had a lot of things to say to you in the past, I will be gravely disapointed if I had to stop writing my articles because SOME BOP officials do not agree with the truth of the matter. I love you all and have a happy mother's day.

Immigration March

May 1, I called my youngest sister at her workplace (it is very unusual for me to call her at work). She answered the phone and was very excited, the first thing that she said was: "Jeswil (my youngest son) is here with me, he is such a good worker." I was surprised but at the same time I was thinking: "no wonder why my heart told me to call her there." I asked her:"what happened why is he not at school?" she said:"his father was afraid to take him to school because there is an immigration march scheduled today here in Miami, so he decided to bring the boys to mom's house" I continued and asked:"where is Yrwil?" (my other son); she said: "at mom's house." Then I said: "let me to talk to my son." He came to the phone and he was so excited telling me about how much he had learned from his aunt's job and that the more he learned, the more he could work and the more he could get paid (my sister pays him by the hour if he helps her). He saves his money to buy video-games, or to pay for church retreats or for whatever he sets his mind on.

After I hung-up the phone I was wondering why the father of my sons had made that decision. I could not believe that he was afraid of our own people. I also know that the media is very good about fueling hatred and fear toward immigrants, but my sons' father should have known better. I decided to call him at work and I asked him: "Wilmer, why did you make the decision of not taking our sons to school today?" he answered: "well, I was afraid that if the march got ugly, the boys may have been hurt." I replied: "I know that you have become over protective with the boys, (due to the fact that I am in prison) but, you are telling me that you are afraid of our own people?" He answered: "no, no, it is not like that, but if the police get involved and a riot starts, I do not want the boys to get locked in a school and to be afraid." I said to him: "you are right, and thank you for being so caring and loving with our sons."

Later, in the evening, I was lying on my bunk and I was wondering what was the government's hidden agenda toward immigration issues? I was trying to analyze their reasoning and my main questions were: Does the government truly want immigration reform? Is the white house trying to get the hispanic vote? I could not get the answer I needed, so then I decided to finish reading my last issue of Prison Legal News (the best newsletter on prison issues in the nation). And I read the following article: "Wal-Mart is using prison labor to build a new distribution center in Beaver Dam, Wisconsin... Hansen-Rise, the building contractor company is based in Idaho... Most of the states 1,100 work release prisoners are employed at food plants or do assembly work at factories..." and another articled said: "In April 2005 a Pennsylvania based company Woolrich Inc was awarded a 5 year contract worth 100 million dollars from the Department of Defense... the company will make millions off the sweaty backs of federal prisoners." And I know from my experience that ADP(a Unicor prison factory) has hundreds of federal prisoners working for TRW (A Reed Company) for decades, making Reed's owners richer and richer every day.

I jumped from my bunk and I said to myself: "I got the answer" and here it is: the big company owners (very good friends and contributors of the white house) come to the white house and to the lawmakers and say to them: "we have a problem and we have a solution." They continued and said: "Black slavery was abolished years ago, we can not use overseas sweatshop as easily as we used to after the news about Nike, Adidas, and other big companies using overseas sweatshop shocked the public, and of course we can not afford to hire US citizens for good wages and benefits and we no longer can pay immigrants $2 or $3 per hour, but we have a great solution: we can pay prisoners .23 cents an hour, no social security, no taxes, no workman's compensation, no law suits. IT IS ALL PROFITS, PARTNERS, ALL PROFITS!!!!!! MILLIONS!!!! AND MILLIONS!!! can be made. We just make more laws creating more draconian sentences and make sure that there is no more "death penalty sentence." We need "life without any possibility of parole." We will make more money if we get 30 or 40 years of the prisoner's labor instead of sending him to the killing chamber." The lawmakers and politicians asked: "What will the government make on providing prison labor (commission)?" I could not hear the answer because the mayhem started and all I could hear was: "it is a deal, partners, it is a deal."

Dear friends, the new immigration reform will be that we will see prisoners in gang-chains picking tomatoes, lettuce, etc.; doing construction work, factory work, etc., etc., and we will see more and more law making every human action a crime. A time will come that the oxygen from our planet will be owned by the government and a controlled substance and a deep breather will be a crime because you will be stealing oxygen from the planet(owned by the government). God helps us. I love you all. Yraida (Leo)

Words and Numbers

In the last 10 grim years of my incarceration I have done a lot of things, some by necessity, some by obligation, and others just as survivol tools, but I must confess that I have enjoyed all.

I have been a student, a teacher, a clown, a gardener, an electrician, an orderly, a clerk, a coordinator, a spokesperson, a librarian, a water tester, etc, etc. But there is one thing that I became by necessity and that was becoming a Paralegal, and boy, it has been very hard for me. Since i was a child I 've had a problem with words, on the other hand I am very good with numbers. I learned arithmetic before I learned how to read and write. During my school years I was an A+ student, except in language, it was, and still is, very difficult for me to comprenhend and memorize all those grammar rules. Even though I love to read, to write, and to talk, when It is time to correct a sentence, my mind goes blank. If you give me numbers, equations, calculus, etc., I will resolve the problem even if some of the numbers, are missing, upside-down, or diagonal, but if you give me words or statements to correct, you can rest assured that the result will be worse. It must be some kind of dyslexia problem because I can not get verbs, adjectives, and pronouns in the right order and my spelling is atrocious.

Just imagine how difficult it is for me to understand and read all those legal books and cases. Let alone writing briefs. It is hard for me in Sapnish (my own language) so it is twice as hard in English (my second language). When I decide to file a case in court, I can easily acknowledge a violation, but putting the violation on paper and in legal terms is extremely difficult for me. I presently have a pending case in court against Unicor (prison factories) and the government filed a motion to dismiss the case. When prisoners file a complaint in courts, the government never looks at the complaint, or the violation, they only look at what we do wrong. In the motion to dismiss, the government stated that I did everything wrong, that I cited the wrong statute, the wrong venue, the wrong jurisdiction, and the wrong cases. Everything wrong, wrong, wrong... they said: "plaintiff incorrectly cited and interpretted the judicial holding of..."; "plainitiff's opposition does not overcome the several fatal deficiencies ..." "plaintiff's complaint is devoted to recounting the effects and impact"; Form the beginning I was having difficulties with this case. I knew that the BOP and Unicor's policy that I filed to the court was in violation of the law, but I was not sure which law or constitutional right, so I sought help. A lawyer came to visit me but I got the feeling that the law firm was not going to take the case due to their budget limitations. I was running out of time to file my response, and the more that I read the government's motion, the more confused I got. It got to the point that I felt like I was reading hyroglifics or chinese. I even cried one day.

In the middle of my desperation I called a lawyer that had been very kind to me. He is very smart and held a high position, but he is not versed in civil matters. He once wrote a letter on my behalf and said:" I have been much impressed with Ms. Guanipa's grasp of the law and some of her legal work that I have seen". He always has a kind word to say to me. I said to him:" I am frustrated with this case, I know what's wrong but I do not know how to fix it. I have no choice, I have to file the response. I was hoping to get this lawyer but I have the feeling that I am going to have to do it on my own". His reply was:" I know you are going to do it right, with or without lawyer."

After I hung-up the phone I went to my cubicle, looked at my board on the wall and saw my son's pictures and a note that they mailed to me that said:" mommie you are the most beautiful, loving and smart mom in the entire world". I said to myself:"if they have confidence in me I must have confidence in myself." I fasted and prayed for 2 days asking God to give me the strength and intelligence to respond to the government's motion. I filed the motion Tuesday April 25-06 and I was satisfied with the job. I do not know what the outcome will be. Winning or losing does not matter to me, what does matter is that I raised my voice. Even though I am a prisoner, a layman in matters of the law with a dyslexia problem in languages, I know one thing very well: no one can strip us of our hope, faith, thoughts, soul, dreams and our first amendment right of freedom to speech, even if you were: "sentenced to be tied to a rock" like Tomas from Boxcutter said on her last (very tiny) newsletter. We may or may not overcome, but we do have a voice, and someday, this too will pass. I love you all Yraida (Leo).

Count Time

"It is count time, couuunnt tiiime" screams the officer over the speaker system. The message is loud and clear. We all know what the announcement means, and it is the most stressful moment of prison life.

Yes, we get counted a few times a day: at 4:15 p.m., 9:00pm, 12 midnight, 3:00am, 5:00 am. At work we are counted at 7:30 a.m. and at 12 noon, and on weekends at 10:00am. When the announcenment is made we must run to our cubicle, we must stop everything we are doing and just wait for them to count. The most stressful count is the 4:15pm (daily count) and the 10:00 am (weekend) count because we must stand 'STILL' in front of our cubicle as long as it takes them to clear count. It was very hard on me at the beginning of my incarceration to get adjusted to count schedule. After 10 years it is still hard but I just make fun of it. The experience of being counted as a prisoner for the first time may be very traumatic and scary for some people (it was for me) especially when you do not know anything about prison life(only what we see on TV )and it comes to us as a shock if we are first-time, non-violent offenders.

I remember about 1 and 1/2 year ago I had a new roommate, she was a self-surrender and came to serve a 10 month sentence for a tax fraud offense. She was born in Honduras, and in most of the Latin-American countries only real hard violent criminals serve time in prison. When she arrived at the camp, she was really scared of the unknown. She was sent to my cubicle just before the 4:15 p.m. count and the announcenment was made and I told her: "you must stand here in front of the cubicle until the officer counts us," and she did not move, she became speechless and started turning red. I kept telling her: "you must hurry-up." Still she did not move. Finally, I said to her: "You must stand here now. The officer is coming and if you do not stand here he will take you to the hole." I grabbed her with my hands, she stood next to me and her face was turning different colors and she started shaking. After the officer passed by and counted us, I was very worried about her and I asked her" are you sick?"," what is wrong?" "do you want me to call the doctor?"she said: "no, no I am ok, I just thought we had to stand there to be in a position to be executed."

I felt sorry for her and I explained to her the facts about prison count time. Yes, those stand-up counts are rough. When the announcement is made, as I said before, we MUST stand still in front of our cubicle, we must hold our urges, we cannot talk or move and we just stand there like a prisoner condemned to death waiting to be executed for as long as it takes to count us. It may take as long as 15, 30, 45 minutes or more than an hour if the count is not correct.

A long time ago I decided to make fun of count time, so while we waited to be counted, I danced, played karate with some of my neighbors, I threw paper airplanes, I make faces, I put my hair up just like a clown and I laugh and make my fellow prisoners laugh. We cannot allow "count time" to destroy our nervous system. Well, last Saturday was one of those days when the count was not correct in our unit When the count is not correct, the staff gets stressed out and dozens of officers arrive at the scenes. They all count, recount and recount again as many times as it takes. We must pull out our Id's, have it in our hands next to our face for the officer to see our picture and compare it to the picture on their records. We must say our last name and number when the officer is looking at us and his records and some of them get very stressed out and start screaming: "who is hiding?" "do not play with my count" "nobody moves", etc, etc. So last Saturday the ordeal was a little bit longer than usual. It took a little over 1 and 1/2 hour and all the officers that arrived were females. Sometimes female officers are harder than male officers, so I did not know what else to do to keep the situation fun for us. I had already exhausted all my clown tricks and then I saw a very handsome young officer. I told my fellow prisoners: "girls look un papasito." They all turned and laughed. There is a young girl that lives accross my cubicle and when the officer was approching her, she sucked in her stomach and stuck out her breasts and you know gave him those natural female sexual vibes. I started making fun of how she reacted when the officer was close to her. Then I chose to make my own natural female vibes, and I fixed my curly hair so that it was loose around my face and I combed my eye brows with my finger with all my exagerrated moves. I did not notice that my ID was upside down, and there was an officer in front of me looking into my face and turning his face to me and saying "gua, gua Gua what?" I did not know what was wrong, when I looked at my ID I notice it was upside down. I got scared(that is considered a serious violation of the rules) and I said: "oh, I am sorry, I do apologize. My name is Guanipa # 44865004." I was so scared that he was going to write me up or take me to the hole. He looked at me and just smiled. I was red and shaking. The girls started making fun of me. I was laughing too, but inside I was devastated. I said to myself:"I am going to stop having fun during count time," but I also said to myself: "but I do not want to be stressed either."

I feel very sad, after serving 10 grim years of incarceration, I do not know what is wrong or what is right anymore, neither what I should or should not do. Unfortunately that is what long years of incarceration does to human beings. I love you all. Yraida Guanipa (Leo)

The Working Boots

One of the first things we have to do when we came to prison is to pick-up our laundry supplies at 6:00 a.m. the day after we have arrived. The laundry supply consists of: 2 sheets, 2 blankets, 1 pillow, 1 pillow case, 4 working uniforms, socks, t-shirts, underwear, bras and working boots(a pair of male steel toe hard working boots).

Those working shoes are far from being close to comfortable. They are made in china, and it feels like they are made for mules and not for women. When I received my first pair of working boots, I felt like I was torturing my feet. I love to take care of my feet with pedicures, massages and lotion before going to sleep. I do shave and steam treatments my feet to make them look and feel soft, clean and pretty. At that moment I did not have any other option than to wear those horrible and uncomfortable working shoes. The boots caused me blisters, broke my toe nails, gave me a rash and a wierd type of fungus. We do not get any help or medical assistance for that. I had open sores and I was bleeding. I could hardly walk.

Besides the agony that the working shoes were causing me I was going thru a deep depression due to the separation of my sons. I was in a risky mental stage. I did not know if I was going to be able to make it through the day, let alone my sentence. I became aware that I was losing my memory (just for a few seconds) then I decided to seek help from the psychology department. The psychologist at that moment adviced me to read the book: "Man searching for the meaning of Life" (I can not recall the exact name of the book and the author)a psychologist who did time in a Nazi camp. I was impressed on how he described the prisoners in those nazi camps running to get the personal property, especially the working boots from those who had died or been killed. It stuck in my mind because I thought that there was no compassion for the human beings who had died, just pure interest in their boots. I wondered how we (human) are able to get to that stage of humanlessness-- I also wondered what the prisoner who took the boots would think or feel every time that he/she wore those boots: did he/she pray for that soul? Did he/she feel sorry for that person? Or was he/she just trying to survive? I finally asked myself if I was capable of doing the same thing just to stop the torture on my feet from my working boots. I knew that I would not be capable of getting someone elses boots and I chose to buy the working shoes from commissary (very expensive but comfortable working boots). I had to give-up 3 months money for supplemental food in order for me to have a pair of comfortable working shoes.

10 years has passed and I have seen in the USA prison/camps the same yearning for comfortable working shoes as those prisoners in the Nazi camps. 2 weeks ago there was a lot of commotion in my housing unit: 2 girls were caught out of bounds trying to pick-up cigarrettes dropped by someone from the outside (both were taken to the hole). Also another girl got immediate release and the 3 girls happen to live in my unit and in my immediate vicinity. Lots of questions crossed my mind as I saw my fellow prisoners running to try to get the girls' personal belongings, but the most intriguing moment was when I heard the argument about the working boots. The 3 girls have commissary boots and one of the ladies who was caught out of bounds had a lover in the unit and they seemed to be truly in love. The lover had given a pair of commissary boots on Valentine's day to the lady who was caught out of bounds, and the lover ran over to her room to get the boots back. I could not believe it. I wondered how she could take the boots back? The lady had not died, she was just going to be transferred to another prison. What about the love she portrayed to her? I said to myself: "How can a pair of working boots be above love, compassion and any of our natural human feelings?" Unfortunately that's what prison does to us-- it take the human feelings out of our body and we just try to survive. It is my hope that our prison camps do not become the future Western Nazi-Camps.

Prison life changes us, it is a fact of life. The hardships we endure here will be part of our lives when we are released. How sad for the thousands of first-time, non-violent offenders serving draconian sentences that are subjected to this way of life. I love you all. Yraida (Leo)