The sun rises early, it's Wednesday morning in a coastal town in Madagascar, a town that sits upon the stunning Indian Ocean. People have been busy for many a long hour drawing water from hand pumps outside their bamboo structured homes preparing a simple breakfast of rice over charcoal fires. The noise of Chickens and children and the smell of smoke has woken us as we think about setting off via Tuk Tuk through the crowded colourful streets.
Streets adorned by market stalls selling every imaginable commodity, from locally grown exotic fruits, banana, pineapple and mango alongside fresh homemade breads that wouldn't look out of place in a Parisian cafe, to patched up inner tubes for bike repairs and second hand Manchester United football shirts.
Streets where our Tuk Tuk struggles to make its presence felt amongst many of its own kind, the driver however skillfully negotiates his way between Scooters and rickshaws who's passengers cling tight over potholed roads avoiding the stinking exhaust flumes belching from the huge articulate vehicles carrying cargo containers bought swift from the port.
The destination of our journey is to visit 30 or so men who gather weekly for their informal bible study in a recently built church, these men come from various towns and villages across this huge and inhospitable island. They arrive at the Church past a tended garden complete with a vegetable patch and bushes which hold freshly washed clothes that dry in the hot morning sun.
The men arrive in dribs and drabs, clutching their dog eared bibles to their thin and tatty tee shirts, most have no shoes but all are clean shaven with bright eyes held in sunken faces. The church building is one of many set within four high walls of their community and their only commonality, other than seeking God through his word, is that they are the inmates in the local prison.
This prison is a place we have grown to love, the hard faces of the guards who had originally welcomed us with suspicion as we entered their domain through the high rusty gates are now open and others who greet us at the transition building are now friends who accept our entrance, past walls with chalk boards containing the number of men, women and children held here, without question, which brings joy to our hearts.
Offers of help to carry a bag come from those who are being readied for their release, more responsibility is given to either lifers or those who will be returned home soon and its those men who lead us through the dark passageway, where families are able to visit, into the stark sunshine of the prison yard.
It's hard to describe the feeling as you hear the metal door close behind you and you are confronted by around 1000 pairs of eyes who have raised their gaze from their labour or contemplation and which stare right into the depth of your very being, I can't imagine what Maz must feel like but time really does seem to stand still as you adjust to your surroundings, then you begin to realise that behind these cold eyes are men who just want to engage and find some meaning to their existence.
The yard made up of fine dirty sand is quite vast, in the middle there stands a run down basketball court and a full size football pitch, abet one with the far corner cut off for a toilet block or some such structure, and is surrounded by a large number buildings in various states of disrepair, none of them are new and those which make up most of your view to the left are where most of the men sleep and spend the majority of their day.
It would be unfair to paint too bleak a picture around the insides of these 'cells' as we haven't experienced them first hand but we have gained an idea of what they are like from the few conversations we've had with those willing to share with us. However it doesn't take too much imagination to bring to thought of over 200 adult men sharing a space no bigger than a standard classroom built for 30 children to study in, what with the hot and humid conditions where the occurrence of malaria is at one of the highest in the world, so let's forget scene of TVs, ensuite bathrooms and flat white sheets!
As we make our way past hundreds of men who are undertaking their daily chores under simple hand made structures of plastic bags stitched together to provide shade from the sun and rain (and when it rains in Toamasina it rains, being situated on the cyclone belt is not a great benefit to the towns location) we are welcomed with 'bon jours' from those who have taken time to look up from the pots simmering over the charcoal fires, all the inmates are left to fend for themselves so everyone is busy, many of them sit over their small bowls filled with their meager belongings that they are washing to rid them of the fleas and ticks that abound in their dark cell spaces.
To say that the conditions are challenging is an understatement but it's with warm smiles that we are welcomed into the small Church by those that we first met during our trip to Madagascar in 2014, back then I had an opportunity to bring a team of local people who are involved in sports outreach to play on the lopsided pitch against the inmates team right here in the prison, since then we have been able to build further bridges via the Emerging Leaders 'Leadership for Life' training that we shared with over 50 of the inmates and guards early in 2016.
As we gathered around on unstable benches, window shutters constantly bang against the concrete walls in the ever increasing Ocean breeze, we not only share in the Bible study but hear stories of hope that have resulted in these men picking up their pens and writing a new story of Hope in their very own community. The things they had learnt from the Emerging Leaders modules have enabled these men to change their own lives in very tangible ways, they now understand that each of them 'has potential', he 'sees himself as a leader'. They have understood that leading starts with the ability to 'lead ourselves' and they have not only done that but they have also seen and 'taken responsibility' of their surroundings, the wellbeing of their fellow inmates and with the help of the guards, who also attended our training, they are now being seen as human beings who have something to offer this dysfunctional community rather than being those who just need to be suppressed whilst they serve their time.
Through the glassless window we are aware of the guard who's tower overlooks our end of the compound, his automatic weapon poised at the ready as we sing songs of a God who as able to 'help in times of trouble' and who 'sets the captive free'. It's all quite surreal but we continue to be encouraged as hear of how some of the lifers who attended our training are now sharing the principles with their fellow inmates and those who head up each cell are keen to be trained to be Trainers within the prison so that they can help others receive this life changing material which will not only make a difference whilst they are inside but also enable them to bring hope to their remote villages when they are released, leaving a legacy which will live beyond this time and space.
Time has a weird habit of racing away for those who want it to slow down and it seems to drag on for those who are wishing it's sands to move slightly quicker through the hourglass of their lives. So it is within this space and it soon emerges that it is time for us to leave, words of thanks and a 'hope to see you again' soon follows and then one or two tough questions 'what are you doing for the rest of the day'? or 'where are you off to next on your adventures'? How does one answer these truthfully and without sounding blazé or heartless?
Tears well up in my eyes as I type this, just thinking of those face, those lives, those conditions which sit against my backdrop of excess and opportunities and so as we ventured back towards that rusty door, it was with heavy hearts knowing that this door is opened to us, a door to a world of freedom and choices for us and a door which many of these men, now our good friends with a shared vision to bring change to a challenging community will never have the opportunity to walk through.
Yes some of these men and women have committed crimes worthy of punishment but it's never easy to say goodbye knowing that we are leaving them to another day of endless boredom borne out of the fact that there is little access to 'the outside world', even access to books and other learning materials is limited but we live with the hope that we have bought some light via our visit and can't wait to reacquainted ourselves with them again very soon.
As that rusty door shuts behind us we are once again welcomed into the real world, a world with its busyness, a world full of choice and options but sadly not for all, if that were true then there would be no need for places where people are removed from society for the protection of others and so we set our sights on helping to create sustainable and viable communities through the Leadership training that we believe can help all men and women, boys and girls to 'see themselves as leaders', reaching their full 'potential', picking up their 'life pen' and writing a different 'story' for their lives, the lives of their families, their community and even their nation.
