The Federal Correctional Institution and its satellite camp sit on a large reserve near a lake in Danbury, Connecticut, and is probably one of the foggiest areas in the state. It is not uncommon for the FCI and camp to be locked down several times a year for security reasons because the fog gets so thick that the perimeters seem to disappear.
But there is another type of fog, one more insidious. Longtime human rights activist Joyce Ellwanger, now 73 years old, went to Fort Benning, Georgia in 2002 to protest against the existence of the Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation (formerly known as the School of the Americas). She and five others deliberately trespassed on WHISC grounds. All were arrested and Ellwanger ,when convicted, received a six month sentence. Sent to the federal prison camp in Danbury, she wrote a poem about a different kind of fog that envelops a prisoner, and stays in the mind, long after release.
Prison Fog
by Joyce Ellwanger
What is it about being in prison that makes
you feel diminished?
Could it be that you are addressed by your work,
and not your name--
“Food Service, there’s a spill by the salad bar.
Mop it up.”
“Dining room, we need more plates,” and sometimes not even that. “You - -bring me a glass of water.”
“Pack up. You’re moving.”
In the fog, images become blurred and indistinct,
Indistinguishable one from another.
What is there about prison that makes
you feel diminished?
Could it be that decisions are made for you?
When you get up and when you eat.
What you eat and what you wear.
When you can be outside and when you can shower.
Other inmates wash your clothes, cook and
serve your food. Clean your bathroom.
What is there about being in prison that makes
you feel diminished?
Could it be your lack of privacy?
Prison overcrowding at 33%, and some facilities,
of course, exceed this average by far,
for more than two million incarcerated men and
women in the U.S.
Sixteen women double bunked in a too - small room.
Clothes and mesh laundry bags strung from the sides
of lockers, overlapping.
Sit up in bed with your feet hanging over and they
are in your Bunkie’s face.
Dress and undress and try to preserve
some personal space and dignity.
Noise breaking into your thoughts, your sleep, your
attempts at concentration, your reading.
Idle talk about others -- how we look, rumors
of what we did, anger and resentment
toward staff, in English and Spanish, bouncing
off walls and echoing outside.
Sometimes it feels as if your thoughts
are not your own but molded by the pull
and tug of the noise surrounding them -- prison fog
rolling in.
What is it about being in prison that makes
you feel diminished?
Days without challenge.
Days without interest.
Days without reward.
Days and more days and more days.
And days without passion.
Days without being touched or touching.
Down days
lazy, hazy days.
Uneventful days in a system that numbs you down.
dumbs you down,
and puts you down.
Prison fog that follows you down the hill and out the gates
And only
slowly
lifts.
Joyce Ellwanger and her husband Joe continue working for world peace and criminal justice reform. In November 2010 the couple received the Frank P. Zeidler award in recognition to their lifelong commitment to human rights.
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