Manuel is 12 years old, and Felix is 13. They are always hungry, and for them, water is a precious and rare commodity. They live and sleep on the cold, concrete floor of a cramped cell with dark, dirty walls and a ceiling covered with crawling spiders and cockroaches. The fetid air buzzes with the whine of mosquitoes that irritate and sting without mercy. A dim yellow bulb emits a faint, sickly glow amid the grim darkness that shrouds their hopeless lives.
Boys imprisoned for petty offenses pass away their time in Navotas, a prison in metropolitan Manila.
Manuel and Felix’s faces light up when I and the social workers from PREDA arrive. They want to see what goodies are in the plastic bag we brought. They are ravenous, so food and drink are first.
These boys, like thousands of other children in the Philippines, are jailed because they are homeless. I am one of the cofounders of PREDA (Peoples Recovery, Empowerment, and Development Assistance Foundation), and our organization’s work includes advocacy for imprisoned children.
These children were conceived recklessly and left to fend for themselves like wild birds with nowhere to go and nothing to live for. Abandoned, they were convicted by the government for the crime of vagrancy and other misdemeanors such as sniffing glue and petty theft—but only after most of their human and legal rights were shamelessly violated.
While they devoured the food, we talk with nearby adult prisoners. Some have tuberculosis; others, hepatitis or AIDS. I fear for the children and become depressed—then angry—at this senseless man-made misery that could so easily be rectified but about which so few truly care.
Seeing Jesus In The Oppressed
In my own life, I am almost ashamed to live as I do: secure, well-fed and with all the necessities of a decent life. I am more ashamed when I find myself complaining and thinking I am deprived. We live in opulent luxury compared to the hardships endured by these children living in prison or on Manila’s streets.
I now understand why Jesus Christ told us to forget ourselves and help others. We can never enter the kingdom of Heaven, Jesus said, unless we become as innocent as one of these children. He identified with them. He appealed to us to see Him in those who are poor, in prison, and who are hungry and deprived.
Some jails for Filipino children are better than others. Some have fluorescent lights, a TV, and a little more space, so only a few need stand while the others sleep.
Medics come from time to time to flush out the prison cells and administer drugs, especially when an epidemic breaks out and the media report it. Sometimes the prisoners get out for a blessed gulp of fresh air and a quick view of the sky and a ray of sunshine.
Unthinkable Conditions
In some prisons, however, basic human needs and dignity are absent. In addition to a chronic lack of justice, there are no plates and spoons, so the kids eat off a newspaper with their hands. There is no water in the cells, so they cannot wash or cool off from the oppressively humid heat. The toilet is frequently a stinking hole in the corner, or a filthy toilet bowl or bucket with no running water.
Life for a child in a Philippine prison is like a death sentence. There are 12 minors on death row and a thousand adults.
But, thank God, the Catholic Church and civil society have successfully campaigned against the death penalty.
Filipinos, by in large, are people of gentle compassion and kindness who love justice. I see it every day in my coworkers who risk much for human rights.
But a history of political corruption and dictatorship has left a legacy of unjust laws, empty coffers and a sea of pitiless political hearts. Our mission is to change as much of that as possible.
Fortunately, we are beginning to make some progress.
Rays Of Hope
It was a happy day this April when the passenger van arrived from two prisons in metro Manila, and five young boys nervously stepped out. They stared in silence and wonder at the panoramic view of Subic Bay as the red fireball of a setting sun lit the sky like a beacon of hope and salvation. They had arrived at our “PREDA Home for Youth in Conflict with the Law,” our safe haven from their cruel detention.
Now they are enjoying sports, literacy classes, vocational training and a normal childhood. We have so far rescued and returned 150 children to the custody of their families.
Many months of determined lobbying and legal action opened a window through which these children escaped the Philippines’ unforgiving legal system. PREDA’s social workers help them in court overcome the charges against them. The oppressive system melted a bit when we found a judge with a heart.
Only a few facilities exist to care for the youth offenders; many more are needed. Many children are as young as 11 years old who have committed no serious crime. Often, they are sexually abused by the adult inmates.
“Restorative justice” is a way of seeing dignity and goodness in young people just as Jesus saw in everybody. This understanding and nonjudgmental attitude does not condemn and punish. Rather, it gives affirmation, hope and a real chance for a decent life.
These children are now happily studying, playing basketball, swimming and earning pocket money doing occupational therapy projects. It’s a new life for those once condemned as sinners and outcasts.
