A CRATEFUL OF FREEDOM
by: JO1 Jeniffer S Rimando |
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He reminded me of a character in a long forgotten movie. He was a lot like the drifter played by Kevin Costner in the 1995 movie Waterworld.
Marlon Vicente was a wanderer before he was cast in jail. With a carnapping case on his neck, freedom was the price he had to pay. A native of Mindanao, now a stranger to Angeles, he was far safer behind bars than outside. He had no place to go and no one to run to. And yet, he stayed distant with souls around him. He kept his peace at his own corner of the workplace.
In a top deck of Angeles District Jail’s annex were strewn strands of havana and stacks of unfinished crates made of the tough fiber. Bottles of varnish were aligned in a corner. The smell of the lacquer coating mixed with the musk of havana. Sixty inmates along with the piles of woven crates awaiting finishing coat crammed the 180 square-meter work area. Benches, stools, and other materials for weaving littered around. |
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Watching Marlon’s skilled hands push and pull the end of a havana string to plait around a steel outline and seeing large veins on his bony hands bulge as he did so, tugged bells of empathy. The creases in his wrinkled forehead got more visible in each drive and pull and his mouth puckered in synchrony with the movement. Each move seemed automatic for him, easy and habitual. But Marlon said there was more to it than the eye can see.
At times, he would arch his lean back and change positions. His muscles and bones might have cramped due to the length of time he, along with the others, spent to complete as many laundry baskets, DVD racks, pumpkin-designed night lamps as possible. All made of havana. As early as 8:30 in the morning after accounting, his small stool and other tools would become busy again. |
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Seven years ago, Angeles District Jail entered into a Memorandum of Agreement with RSU (Rico S. Urwingco) Rattan Furniture, Incorporated, a furniture and handicrafts company that exports its products. RSU is paying the inmates per piece of their finished products. The price depends on the size and kind of the handicraft.
The company hires inmates of Angeles District Jail to craft products for export to the United States and other countries. It also supplies all raw materials and collects finished products. An inmate is paid on the number of his production, with P110 (per laundry basket) as the most expensive. Marlon said he has an average production rate of four baskets a day. And the whole team collectively, an average total production of 150. |
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A love story with crates
At 31, he has spent what he feels were seven dragging years, all empty, lonely and full of remorse. Each day seemed a hundred years, he sighed. With never a visitor, he has retreated into a place within him he found for himself. He preferred it, he said. He found peace and relief in his new found refuge - solitude. The family he left doesn’t have an inkling of what has befallen him. Marlon said he left his loved ones with the assurance that a job was awaiting him at the other side of the world. And until now, it was what they believe.
His hollow days soon picked up shape when a handicrafts training for inmates was launched by the jail.
Then a love story began.
“I do not make crates with my hands,” he said as a constantly bowed head leveled up. I thought I saw a gleam in his now watery eyes. “I craft it with my heart,” he professed as the head lowered again.
Marlon narrated how the crates shifted his life and put color into his dull days. Thanks to Angeles DJ’s unwavering efforts to find ways for inmates’ welfare and development, a partnership with RSU was born.
For seven years, it was the only thing he devoted most of his hours with. And definitely, the only thing he became greatly familiar with. In fact, he dreamed of the crates. The musk always filled his nose and senses, his hands and fingers jibed so much with the havana’s familiar shapes and lengths. Even with eyes closed, he could weave masterfully. Marlon seemed immersed in the newfound passion. He didn’t need to think often about home and how unhappy he was. It was his sanctuary in a place devoid of freedom. It was his family away from home.
With his case frozen for two years, with a blank future ahead, and with only himself to share his sadness, he has his crates and baskets to hold and cling to. And days, even years inside the jail would not be that lonely and meaningless anymore.
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