Before I start, I'd like to acknowledge the sites noted below each photo, as Angola does not permit photography on the prison site. Thank you for your assistance in educating the public.
It's not every day a person voluntarily steps
foot inside a maximum security prison. It isn't every day that a nurse who
works "on the outside" has the opportunity to simply chat whilst
holding the hand of an elderly, toothless inmate whose only wish is to die
outside of thick concrete walls with his younger brother at his side. It
definitely isn't every day that the same nurse cries over a group of men who
have undoubtedly committed crimes that destroyed the lives of many, many
people. It’s a heartbreaking conundrum and one filled with both
self-questioning and the desire to know more.
Northcountrypublicradio.org
Angolamuseum.org
Over five-thousand men currently call Angola home - specifically, Louisiana
State Penitentiary. Over one thousand staff work on the 18,000 acre campus, and
several hundred more staff reside in small houses scattered throughout the rich
landscape - there is a two year waiting list for prison residences. The prison
finds itself surrounded on three sides by the grand Mississippi River, further
swollen by thunderous rains which sweep through the area almost daily. On the
fourth side is a tall levy, maintained by staff and prisoners called
"trustees" who have proven themselves trustworthy enough to work
amongst staff, other prisoners, and the many visitors who tour Angola each year
while earning a bit more pay per hour. There are no actual fences on the
outside perimeter - nature is given that task. The Warden's home sits high on
top of a hill, overlooking the land.
Kpel965.com
Several guard towers on the inside of the property stand vacant due to
downsizing and budget cuts. To keep offenders within their Camps, a double
layer of barbed wire fencing surrounds each camp. Cameras monitor the fences at
all times. At night, dogs trained by an elite group of 12 trustees are set
loose to roam the perimeters; these dogs aren't just a standard breed, however.
German Shepherds are bred with wolves in order to instill a primal fear into offenders
who may consider a chance at escape. Trained by men who are “lifers” for first
degree murder, the preconceived potential fury of such a partnership is quite
palpable.
reddit.com
Dailymail.co.uk
The prison, called "The Farm," indeed does consist of much farmland,
tended by trustees. Wheat, corn, soy, sugarcane, and all kinds of vegetables
are grown on Angola. Cows, horses, and a lone camel reside on the green land.
The prison sustains itself and sends produce and other goods (such as homemade
jellies) out into the community. A dairy was shut down about twelve years ago.
The land itself is saturated with recent rains as well as runoff from the
nearby Mississippi River.
Mapcarta.com
Many years ago, Warden Burl Cain (resigned in 2016) developed a hospice program for his inmates -
determined to make every death a “good” one. As he states in the documentary
"Serving Life," "I'll dig your grave, and someone else will dig
mine." It is to be said, however, that Warden Cain was often seen by
inmates as the leader of a great plantation, providing medical care and hospice
services as somewhat of a “cold comfort,” as stated by A, one of the hospice
volunteers in an article written many years ago. Although hospice services do
assist in a better dying experience, men are still dying within prison walls.
Usatoday.com
Two nurses per shift work within the hospice
ward, and 36 volunteer inmates are trained to assist the nurses in providing
intimate, daily care for the seriously ill and dying patients. Volunteers are
interviewed and put through an intensive 40-hour training program in which they
learn to care for others, and for themselves. Many volunteers have become
skilled sewers, making quilts for dying patients so they are covered
beautifully while being taken to their final resting place on the grounds.
Theadvertiser.com
While in the Hospice Chapel, also built by offenders, I was struck by the
beauty of the simplicity of the program. The volunteers are not able to use
their volunteer hours for "brownie points" for parole - often, the
parole board is completely unaware of the inmates' involvement. This is done
intentionally so volunteering is done for reasons other than impressing the
board in hopes of an earlier parole. While in the Chapel, we were joined by M,
S, and A, who have all been volunteering since the inception of the program -
well over 25 years. The nurse manager was also present to answer the more
medical-based questions, however the session mostly focused around what the
volunteers were describing. They all wore special hospice t-shirts, which
identifies them across the prison. The Chapel itself has a labyrinth carved
into the floor for the prisoners to use for meditation and reflection, and is
where funeral services are held for inmates. The acoustics within the chapel
amplified the harmonic voice of M, as he sang a hymn to us, much like the hymns
sung at funerals.
When I asked M later about the energy shift within the prison after the program
was started, and if there even was one, he told me that the program is
well-respected, and that the volunteers often find themselves given a bit of extra
leeway by fellow offenders - that's not to say, however, that they're not held
to the same strict behavior standards. Any tiny amount of misbehavior, and the
privilege of volunteering is revoked forever. That is a fear many of the
volunteers hold close to their heart. Many of these men verbalized their sorrow
and regret for past actions - they know that they can never “set things right,”
however they do desperately want to make retributions as much as they possibly
can.
ofnotemagazine.com
As 55 of us ventured into the hospital ward
where the hospice and palliative patients lay, there was a definite sense of
trepidation. Later, on the return to New Orleans, it was noted that many of us
felt we were infiltrating the privacy and peace of these men. Several patients
were seen pulling the covers over the head, while several others stared at us
either with a variety of expressions - anxiety, hope, confusion. It was a
surprise to us all to be set free within the large room to visit with bedbound
prisoners, and immediately, the room swarmed with voices raised in open
conversation. I noticed immediately that the group ensured that every man had
someone at their bedside.
The hospice rooms themselves are on the sides of the large room - there are six
rooms with doors - these rooms offer windows, televisions, and a large chair or
couch for family visits. Families are encouraged to visit their loved ones,
much as in the outside world. The large, central room, is a disarray of
enormous oxygen tanks, electric and hand-cranked hospital beds, medical
equipment, and a feeling of despair which the nurses and volunteers do their
best to assuage.
365andfeb29.wordpress.com
As I was speaking with the nurses, inquiring as to whether or not they had any
integrative therapy programs (they do have pet therapy,) I noticed that one of
the hospice rooms had opened, and a small man was sitting in a wheelchair in
the doorway, quietly watching the increasingly loud conversation in the larger
room. There was an energy about him that I recognized immediately - a sense of
wanting so much to belong, but a shyness about being turned away. I was drawn
to him, and found myself sitting on the floor next to his wheelchair. His
toothless smile upon my introduction and a handshake of his cool, extremely
calloused hand, brought about a sense of comfort to us both. He has been a
patient of hospice for a few months, and a prisoner of Angola for 25 years. I
did not ask him what for, as I didn't feel it relevant to any form of conversation
that would bring him a bit of joy on that day. I told him I was a nurse, a
hospice nurse specifically, as he asked why so many people were visiting.
During our conversation. Mr. E opened up to me about his desire to see his
younger brother again, and how he wanted so much to die outside of the thick,
cold, concrete walls. He understood it probably wouldn't happen, a
compassionate release, but that hope would not diminish. He was happy to not be
in pain, although expressed frustration that he needed to be on oxygen 24/7. I
shared that I understood the frustration, as I had spent 7 months of my life
attached to a tank. He asked me if I knew of anything that would help his COPD
symptoms, and I suggested a few things which the wonderful nurses had already
been doing. Sadly, our visit didn't last for too much longer, as I noticed our
large group streaming out of the medical ward. When I went to say goodbye, I
noticed that we had been holding each other's hands for quite some time. I
didn't even recognize my action as being anything special - but these men have
such infrequent touch that I can only hope it offered some comfort. It is a
struggle to not tear up when I think of his smile. "Well, what if he did
such and such?" I don't know that he did such and such, all I see is a
human being in need of human interaction.
Many of the volunteers committed atrocious crimes years and years ago - many
were convicted of second degree murder or first degree assault and robbery. Not
once did I feel like I was in danger, objectified, or at risk of being harmed.
It wasn't that the security was amazing - which it was - there was a dual
respect shown which was really quite incredible to witness. Staff gave the
volunteers and trustees respect, and the volunteers and trustees afforded the
utmost respect to visitors and staff.
Thecatholiccommentator.org
After leaving the hospice, it was appropriate that we visited Our Lady of Guadalupe Chapel at Angola by the hospital. I was not surprised to learn that this was also
built by inmates, but I was stunned to learn that it had been built, by 50
inmates, in only 38 days. The architect was an inmate, and was dying of cancer
while the building was being built and painted. He was hoisted bodily up to the
ceiling of the church in order to paint the portraits of Jesus and other apostles,
due to his weakness. He died only a month after completion of the church. It's
incredibly stunning work, full of color.
Mysanantonio.com
Thecatholiccommentator.org
This was truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience for me. I encourage all of you
to reach out into your communities and see where differences can be made. I'm
not suggesting that you visit sick prisoners, however perhaps check into how
you can volunteer in hospices within your communities. It does make a
difference to patients and families.
And check out "Serving Life," a wonderful documentary on the Angola
Hospice Volunteer Program. There is also a documentary called "The Farm" which is about serving time in Angola.
