Today we spent the bulk of the day at Musanze Prison.

The prison houses both men and women, in separate sections. The area that we had access to was the main courtyard, which has a volleyball net in the middle, a large covered area for gatherings, open access to the kitchen (where all meals for all 5000 inmates are made), and is lined with a number of sleeping quarters.

I haven’t been in a lot of jails, but I have been in more than most. The vibe of the courtyard was different from any prison I have ever visited. Not that it was great, it was a prison after all, but I was struck by the sense of calm. The interaction between the correction officers and inmates was kind. There was very little noise, rushing or hostility.

Returning
One of the people accompanying us was our friend from Day 4, Callixte. As you may recall, Callixte was wrongfully imprisoned for five years. As we walked in, he froze for a few seconds and just looked around. He wasn’t scared and the warmth never left his face, but he was having a moment as he returned to the place where he served his sentence.

Formality part 1 and the director
Every event we have done so far has included a bit of formality. This has typically been a welcome address from someone in charge, a prayer, and a chance for us to introduce ourselves formally to the group.

This happened twice in the prison.

First, we were escorted to the director’s office. He was a tall, upright man dressed in a crisp military suit and seated behind an imposing desk. He introduced himself and his staff, and we introduced ourselves. Again, in a slightly more formal manner than I am used to.

As formal and impressive as the director was, there was a sense of calm and groundedness in the room. He moved with grace and seemed larger than he actually was, but not in any sort of intimidating way.

Whenever one of the correctional officers approached the director, they saluted, but did so with a large smile. It was clear that they both liked and respected him.

Formality part 2 and the inmates
After spending 15 minutes with the director he escorted us over to the outdoor pavilion where 101 inmates awaited us.

We were seated on the stage, with 61 male inmates on our left and 40 female inmates on our right.

We were not allowed to take photos in the facility, but they provided this one (and we hope there will be others to follow):

The formalities continued.

We were first greeted by one of the inmates, who thanked everyone for coming by name.

Our friend Placide (I will tell you a lot more about him later) translated for us. Placide has been traveling with us throughout our trip and was the primary facilitator for the original tapping classes. Musanza is his hometown and he visits the prison at least once a month.

The inmates were gracious and welcoming as each of us was introduced, but when Placide was introduced, the inmates went crazy. Their love and respect for him was clear; they just adored him.

With each introduction there was applause and the inmates made a sound of approval that made me think of the wind blowing through a reed and somehow forming a musical note.

Next, one of the inmates, who was a pastor, led the group in an opening prayer, which was followed by a song of welcome and dancing. The inmates were all dressed in orange. The four dancers, two male and two female, draped traditional cloth over their prison garb as they danced.

The report
One of the female inmates then reported on how the tapping training had been going in the facility. Here’s what she told us:

• 61 men and 40 woman have completed the training
• They first learned the consequences of stress and trauma on them, both mentally and physically
• They learned how to identify stress and trauma in others
• They learned active listening skills
• The trainees learned that they should first take care of themselves before they try to help others
• They were appreciative of the materials that had been provided, which included a counseling tent in which the trainees took turns offering help to any inmate who wanted to talk or tap
• They were super grateful for their PHN t-shirts that had been received because these were like a uniform that let the other inmates know they were helpers
• Each trainee was also given two copies of the TTT book in their native language of Kinyarwanda for their continued study and so they could help others as well

She then reported that the goal of each one of the trainees was to create small groups with other inmates and to have each of the trainees share tapping with at least 10 other inmates.

AND she was very happy to report tapping had been taught to more than 1000 inmates.

Song of healing

One of the inmates was then invited to share his healing journey, for which he had written a song.

He held a small block of wood that had a number of strips of metal attached to it of different lengths. Pushing down and releasing the metal strip produced a musical note, in the same way as a music box strikes a note.

His song was about his pain and suffering, learning to tap, and healing. #teartally

Here is the song, captured as best as I could using the voice memo app on my phone.

Sketches
Next, the inmates performed two sketches that they had written, both about how to identify someone in distress and how to teach them tapping.

They had worked very hard on them and were really proud of their work.

It was SO SO awesome!

Song of tapping
The group then sang a song they had written that included the tapping. Because singing and dancing is an important part of many Central and East African cultures, it is a natural fit.

While all this was going on, the small children were dancing and tapping along and at one point I noticed one kid correcting another’s tapping technique.

The kids
Yes, you read that correctly. There were children there too.

Mothers who are incarcerated are allowed to keep their children with them up until the age of three. There was a special wing in the women’s area for inmates with children, which also housed a nursery where some of the inmates teach.

Like the other places we have visited in Rwanda, the kids were allowed to be kids. They wandered around the group, climbed in and out of different inmates’ arms, and the correctional officers always greeted them with waves and smiles.

They were noisy, like kids, but not disruptive.

This is the moment when I simply run out of words (#teartally). On one level it was amazing to see how the kids were being cared for and loved by everyone in the facility. And at the same time, I was thinking about that moment when they turn three and are sent away to another part of the family, leaving their mothers and everything and everyone they’d known in life up until that point.

One of the reasons I did work in the prison system in the US was because I felt that if we could help the incarcerated with their anger, then they were much less likely to end up back in prison, which meant I was also helping kids to get their parents back.

When someone is incarcerated, those that suffer in their absence are often overlooked. It is an act of trauma that is inflicted on children, because of no fault of their own, and the system creates a cycle of trauma that can ripple through generations.

And this is when I run out of words. I have no clue what to do about any of this, other than healing systems, healing communities, and healing family members, which I believe is what we must be committed to doing.

Each individual who can experience deep healing is an opportunity to halt the domino effect of generational trauma.

All the emotions
The formal presentation ended. The director once again thanked us for all the support of his facility and then we headed for the gate.

I didn’t realize the human heart and head were able to express so many emotions at the same time.

I was flooded with gratitude…hope…anger…shame…helplessness…encouragement…love…kindness…sadness, and an overwhelming wave of other emotions that I can’t adequately describe.

Sometimes it aches so deeply to be human.

Sometimes you just want to not feel anything.

Sometimes you need to feel everything all at once.

Sometimes these feelings become the fire for the action to be taken next.

Odds and ends

You might want to take a deep breath before reading the next bit, as it is a bit of a change of pace.

Wyoming shirt
While walking back to the hotel I passed a child of about eight who was wearing a t-shirt with the Wyoming (my home state) flag on it. It happened so quickly I didn’t have a chance to grab a photo.

Serving in the DRC
After our time in the prison we gathered for a late lunch. We were joined by Germando Kagomba Barathi (pictured below). We figured out that Germando speaks at least 11 languages, seven of which are Congolese. He is a medical nurse and has served in some of the scariest places in the world (most often local areas controlled by warlords).

I feel bad turning Germando into an odd or end as his story, life, and work deserve a full post. He arrived in Musanze from the Congo and he was on his way to attend an interview for work with Doctors Without Borders (he got the job!). He is a great asset to the organization as he is a nurse, speaks so many languages, completely unflappable, and full of energy and positivity.

Over lunch he shared stories with us about teaching children how to tap, many of whom had been taken from their families by local militias. He talked about the power of NOT having them share their stories, but instead just tapping because retelling a story would re-traumatize them.

In the face of so much struggle, there is so much hope.

Explaining the American Medical System
Over lunch my sister tried to explain the US healthcare system to two Rwandans.

They simply could not believe their ears – to the extent that their eyes were popping and their jaws went slack in astonishment.

At one point I think Pius thought that my sister Laney was joking. She was not.

I am here
One of the things we have become accustomed to is the Rwandan approach to start times and meeting times.

Let’s call it a relaxed approach.

Imagine you are meeting someone, you have arrived, and they have not. You call them to ask where they are, so you can have a sense of when they might arrive, and they will reply “I am here.” When they say that, they are saying “I am where I am” which is often followed by “be patient”.

Luckily everyone in our group is able to roll with that. It means more time to sit and enjoy a nice cup of coffee while looking up at the volcanoes.

Tear Tally
The tear tally is now up to 11, but two of those were during the writing of this post.