Lately I have noticed a "spirit of violence" in this place...
Just this past week, one inmate from my cellblock got clunked in the head with a large rock during a fight in the outside recreation yard. He ended up with several stitches in his head, though it could have been worse. Several days later another man in my cellblock got slashed across the face and was very seriously wounded. Knowing the victim from observation, I would imagine the incident was probably drug related. Some of these guys bring their habits to prison, and this is the eventual outcome.
Over the years I have seen a lot of violence here. Much of it was defensive, as men had to fight off fellow prisoners for one reason or another. However, I can say with assurance that Jesus Christ reminds me daily never to resort to violence to solve my problems. Of course, I didn't always feel this way. It wasn't until I became a Christian that I got rid of my shank (handmade knife).
As far as my own experiences go, I could easily have lost my life back in 1979, when another inmate slashed me with a razor blade and missed my main artery by a hairbreadth. There were other times, too, when I could tell by the look in someone's eyes and by his body posture that he was looking for a way to take my life. God, however, had other plans. I have now endured twenty-five years behind bars, and not because of any special skill or old-fashioned good luck. I am alive because the Lord is with me, and I am very thankful for divine protection in such an environment as this.
D.B.
Over the years I have seen a lot of violence here. Much of it was defensive, as men had to fight off fellow prisoners for one reason or another. However, I can say with assurance that Jesus Christ reminds me daily never to resort to violence to solve my problems. Of course, I didn't always feel this way. It wasn't until I became a Christian that I got rid of my shank (handmade knife).
As far as my own experiences go, I could easily have lost my life back in 1979, when another inmate slashed me with a razor blade and missed my main artery by a hairbreadth. There were other times, too, when I could tell by the look in someone's eyes and by his body posture that he was looking for a way to take my life. God, however, had other plans. I have now endured twenty-five years behind bars, and not because of any special skill or old-fashioned good luck. I am alive because the Lord is with me, and I am very thankful for divine protection in such an environment as this.
D.B.