Living Arrangements

I had one of those experiences a few weeks ago that I know is part of any prison experience regardless of security level or which part of the government (federal or state) has custody.

Two months ago I was moved in with a Pisa, a Mexican gang whose members are comprised of those who are from Mexico. I was sitting in my cell reading, minding my own business when the "Shot-Caller" for the Pisas asks me to move.

"Hey Homie, I need you to find a new place to live."

"Why? Have I created a problem or been a nuissance to you? If so, I apologize."

"No, it's not that. Don't you know how it works, man? You need to go with one of your own kind."

"I wasn't aware of that. I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks, man. It is nothing personal. It's just you been here too long, you know?"

So I searched for several weeks for an open cell. I found one, but it filled up before I had a chance to move in. A month later I found a new cell and began a contract negotiation of sorts about moving in. What to do, what not to do, etc. A meeting of the minds, so to speak, to see if we are compatible. Once the contract was secured, I began to find a member of the staff to help me out. A month later in the process of handling this The Woods approached me. The Woods are a variant of the Aryan Brotherhood. I'm not quite sure of the specifics, nor do I care to.

"Bro, you need to move out tomorrow, I can't have you in here anymore."

"I found a place to move, you can wait three weeks until I move."

"No, I can't bro. You move out tomorrow."

"Where am I supposed to go to?"

"Not my concern, but if you do not, you will take this to the next level, and I'd hate to see what would happen to you if you do not."

The next day I scramble to find another cell, or be on this next level. I found an open cell with an old man who is a classic example of senior senility meets institutionalized - he thinks the government is listening to his brain waves and wants to steal tin foil from the kitchen to make a hat so they won't.

Meanwhile, I assure my previous contract holder that I will still move in, least I want to face another breech of contract. This time was very tense for me, and I was sweating every day.

D-Day finally came, and it was time for me to put in the request to move out into the other cell. I made the request by pulling every string I had in my inventory. The move came, and I hired my moving crew once again (at the cost of two books of stamps, the official economy of Terminal Island), we made the move, and all was well.

Sadly, politics like this don't go away. People force others out because of their ethnic backgrounds. The higher the security, the more severe and serious it is. I am glad that I am in a new location across the street, if you will, in the same unit.

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I've been participating in Agape lately. I discovered it during my yoga and meditation classes. I like it because it really agrees alot with my spiritual beliefs and addresses many things that are relevent to me. I'd like to participate when I leave here.