this picture, with Elodie and Patricia (vignette 1), we could very well be the car park of any supermarket in a shopping area. But the left, top, a surprising detail: a turret, more exactly a viewpoint. We are at the entrance of the penitentiary of Laon, that is to say the prison. It is outside the city, in open fields, small fortress between heaven and earth, rising in the middle of the vacuum (vignette 2). It's quite striking to see, when approaching by road. If we do not know what it is, one wonders, the building is mysterious.
My last visit was a year ago and a half or two, I can not remember very well (look in the archives of this blog). The League of Education organizes cultural activities of all kinds, including a café philo. This time, it was with a colleague, Elodie Cabeau, which I participated: it exposes the subject, guides the debate and I raise when needed. Patricia Legendre is the coordinator of initiatives in prison. This morning we discussed in the presence of seven inmates, the question "What freedom?"
The prison, even when we went there several times, it's always impressive controls, doors, gates, corridors, cameras, guards, inmates, one enters in a strange world, in part, disturbing, but at the same time ordinary, normal, familiar. Because prisoners are closer to us than is implied by their deprivation of liberty, sometimes for several years. Most have a family to support, considering to work out, practice in penitentiary outside activities (sports, studies, ...), are very aware of their rights, following the news, often have a good command language. Some even bear marks of distinction which would seem unnecessary here, jacket Lacoste, Adidas or Nike.
The Cafe Philo went as any which coffee philosophy (or almost), with coffee and ideas! In any case, our exchanges for one hour (the participants are all volunteers) are almost forget gates, guards, violence (because there are those who have committed violence on property or people, and deprive someone its freedom is a violent measure although necessary). Instead, the atmosphere is quiet, relaxed (my perception), even if the speeches are often vivid. But it just fine.
Before the session begins, the prisoners were waiting outside the room, I went and said goodbye to a small nod of head. In the end, upon departure, they have risen, have approached us for a handshake. I felt then my mistake, I should do it too, from the beginning (though I have thought, but it is not always what we think). As a handshake in a prison takes on another meaning elsewhere: it is a form of recognition, a gesture of dignity, confidence building.
In a café philo ordinary handshake (when applicable) is trivial, friendly and polite. It does not pay attention, have it done or not. In prison, she has another dimension, it becomes a mark of humanity (no not shake hands with a beast or a monster). This morning, I felt this thing, I've experienced: the strength, dignity and humanity of a hand reaching out to another hand. Next time (in April), I will not forget.
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