Day nine: the men.

It is 2:00 am.  I must try writing earlier in the day.

The officers, as they like to be called (they correct us when we call them guards) are an interesting group.  I know there are female officers, but I imagine they are assigned to the dorms, as we never see them.

With very few exceptions, these men have been professional, pleasant and quite often kind to the women and children.  The man who runs our operation has his hands full.  The women who are scheduled to see us that morning or afternoon are all on hand in a nearby hut, called a library.  Not a library.  Our officer calls ahead on a radio to have a group of women and their children (they are never, never apart from their children) escorted to our hut.  As the day progresses, he has to make that call many times, for a number of people who will have room to wait in the crowded facility.

He also tries to keep the children entertained.  There is always a movie showing, in Spanish, but oddly enough, few of the children watch.  They may have one page torn out of a coloring book and a crayon, sometimes two.  The ones who win favor sweetly ask for another as they leave, and get one.  Most of the children happily interact with the officers and get English lessons and the chance to teach a little Spanish in return.

I mentioned to our officer the other day that the children were lucky, with so few males in their lives right now, that he and a few of the others I had seen interacting with the children are such good role models.  He seemed touched.  We read of sexual harassment and abuse at other facilities, and it is no surprise, with men in all of the power positions, surrounded by vulnerable women who have been victimized in their recent pasts.  I watch for signs of that here and have seen only a few; nothing concrete..