Teaching in Prison

For the past two weeks, Molly and I have been teaching at Kamfinsa State Prison, just outside of Kitwe. We go in twice a week, every Tuesday and Friday. We had been waiting for two months to get official permission to enter the prisons from the Zambian Ministry of Home Affairs, and our permission letters finally arrived in late November.

Molly and I are both teaching a class on preaching, which is one of the most popular TEEZ classes in the prison (I think one reason for this is that as people prepare to be released into an economy with over 50% unemployment, preaching is considered a marketable skill). Molly is teaching a class of 16 women and I am teaching a class of 15 men. Teaching at Kamfinsa presents a whole new set of challenges for us—moral, spiritual, and pedagogical.

The state of Zambian prisons is sickening. They are overcrowded, unsanitary, disease and abuse ridden. The system often doesn’t provide basic necessities like food, soap, or toilet paper, and inmates must rely on family or the churches to bring them. Prisoners sometimes resort to trading food and soap for sex, which leads to widespread health issues. (If you're interested, you can read more about the state of Zambian prisons by reading the Human Rights Watch report, "Unjust and Unhealthy," at http://www.hrw.org/en/reports/2010/04/27/unjust-and-unhealthy). Figuring out how to effectively minister in this environment, and to make our teaching relevant to it, is not easy.

While TEEZ course materials are generally well-written and very helpful to students, they are not designed for the prison context in particular. And though bringing educational opportunities to Kamfinsa is very needed and very appreciated by the inmates and staff, I feel compelled somehow to be more than merely a tutor in this place of distress and despair--I want to be a pastor too. The difficulty is that inmates do not seem particularly inclined to talk to me about their problems--not yet anyway. Despite the extreme hardship of life as a Zambian prisoner, most of the time when I arrive at Kamfinsa I am greeted by nothing but smiles. In part, I think this is due to genuine happiness to see me, and to the God-given human capacity to fight for joy in the midst of despair. But I also wonder if there is not something of a culture of false positivity at work, a compulsion to put on a happy "Christian" face, especially for those perceived as being authority figures--and as a male muzungu Reverend, whether I like it or not, this is how I am perceived.

Every class is divided into two parts: Part A on the art and craft of preaching, and Part B being a scripture study. While for Part A I have been standing in front of the class and "lecturing" as I am expected, for Part B I have begun sitting on the benches amongst the students, and conducting the study as a discussion rather than a lesson. Many of the students seem a bit unsure what to do with this--it's not a common pedagogical style in this culture. Even more surprising to the students is my occasional tendency to challenge the scriptural text, to say things like, "I get really frustrated with God here when he says..." or "Paul writes _______ here. Do you think that's really true?" I can almost hear the students thinking, "What kind of a Reverend is this?" But I am intent on modeling honesty, with myself, with scripture, and with life, because I don't think the Gospel is capable of transforming human life without it.

At the end of the class, before we close with prayer, I ask the students if there are any specific prayer requests, both so that whoever is praying us out can include them in the closing prayer, and so that I can keep them in my prayers over the course of the week. So far, the requests are pretty generic: "Pray for my family," "Pray for my wife who is sick," "Pray that God will make me a good Christian," etc. But I hope that maybe, as time goes on, as we get to know each other better, students will feel more able to open themselves up and allow each other to see more of themselves, their hopes, fears and deepest concerns. Perhaps this is a naive hope in a prison...I hope not.

An appeal: as mentioned above, the Zambian prison system often does not provide basic necessities for prisoners like food, soap and toilet paper, and inmates must often rely on family (if they have them) and the churches to provide such support. If you are so inclined, you may use the Pay Pal donation button on the right side of this blog to donate funds toward supplying Kamfinsa inmates with these materials.