San Pedro Prison, Bolivia

Since the dawn of our travels deep in South America .... (like that intro to the post? pretty good eh? yehhh.) Anyway since we started in South America we had been hearing stories of travellers who visit prisoners in a prison in La Paz, Bolivia. We laughed it off saying we´d never have the guts to step inside a real active Bolivian prison.

There are no guards inside this prison. Just at the gate. The prison is run by the prisoners inside. You can read a detailed non-fiction book about it named "Marching Powder" by Rusty Young. It is a great book I am told. I´m starting it after the book I´m reading about the demise of the American native Indians at the hands of the unsound white men.

Anyway, we had a group of five so we just decided... what the hey... Let´s go to the San Pedro prison. It is completely illegal for backpackers to enter the prison and your embassy cannot help you if there is a lockdown or if you get stuck in there or held hostage. But we said sher we´re not getting any younger. haha.

Once you get into this prison you can do cocaine or marajuana or whiskey, or probably other stuff they have floating around aswell.

So we phoned Stuart, one of the Zimbabwean prisoners (he has a cell phone in his cell of course), and we arranged to come along to the prison at 2pm that day.

When we entered, there was a prisoner waiting at the gates off his head on coke shouting at us and welcoming us. It really spooked us and Elaine was absolutely terrified. haha. The usual old Elaine. The guards stamped our hands and we declared we had no camera equipment on us. We were led into the courtyard inside the prison walls by a peaceful friendly prisoner. All the while Jaques the crazy man was shouting and really freaking us out.

To our horror, we were left in a room with Jaques for a few minutes and he picked up a pen and remarked that he could stick it through a mans neck faster than anyone else in the prison. If I had been younger or more naive, I would have been scared. But I have met idiots even in Navan who make comments like that. So I didnt give a shite, but this comment only scared Elaine even more.

We made it up to the 3rd floor of Stuarts prison cell, the kitchen area. Yes, you read that correctly. Elaine wanted to leave because she was really scared. But we stayed, and got a tour of the rich gringo side of the prison. We did not go near the poor side because we would stand out like a sore thumb and would risk being stabbed or worse. Sabastian, a convicted drug trafficker gave us the tour. He probably saw Elaines ghostly white face and, in a rather smooth and assuring fashion, he said "You look scared, don´t worry, no one is going to stab or rape you." So that was grand anyway.

The prison was really just like a shabby hostel. Stuart said it was the nicest prison he had ever stayed in. He said his least favourite prison was the Zimbabwe prison where he spent 8 years solid with shackles on his feet. I said it must have taken a while to be able to walk in long strides when he was released, and he agreed that it had been difficult. John, Elaine and I drank whiskey with old Stuart while the other backpackers did coke in Jaques room (with his children present).

Some children live in the prison because their parents are inmates there. But they go out to public school every day and all that.

I hear Stuart got released a few days later. If you are reading this Stuart, come to Ireland (if Interpol let you), and I will buy you a whiskey to make up for the stuff I drank in your cell.