|
By Msgr. Noel C. Burtenshaw
Forgotten is the word that Cuban inmates in the
Atlanta Federal Penitentiary use about their existence. We have been
dumped in here and now we have been forgotten.
They may be able to say that as they point their finger at the
American public and the American justice system, but they cant say that
about Max Munoz. Max, who came to this country from Cuban in 1955 to study at
Georgia Tech, and a little band of faithful Christian men, have been visiting
these forgotten outcasts each week on a regular basis.
Fifty thousand unattached mates came with the
Marielitos, says Max, who is a member of Immaculate Heart of
Mary parish. The Marielitos (the Cuban boat people) were 120,000 in
number. The fifty thousand were the outcasts, the hobos. Some were petty
criminals, some dangerous men. Just remember that out of that great number, all
have been settled except these 1,500 now in the Atlanta Pen.
So, Max Munoz would remind us that the Cuban refugees, who came
here with nothing four years ago, have done well.
Even some of these men who were involved in this incident
last week did well for a time. Many now have families. But they broke the law,
were arrested, he said. Now that they have served jail terms, their
immigration status has been revoked and they are in the Atlanta penitentiary,
waiting for the government to review and decide their cases.
The problem is, that decision may not come soon. So the
frustration of not knowing becomes a nightmare.
Max Munoz, who is an executive with a chemical company, and
Joaquin Davila, a Coca-Cola executive, visit these men each week. They
are hard core, I suppose, says Max, but I have seen wonderful
changes. Many have made the Cursillo and these, especially, are
different.
Max and Joaquin find that 25 men meet with them on a regular basis
for prayer, Scripture reading and conversation. The chaplain has noted
that those men go to Mass on a regular basis, says Max. He used to only
have a few on Sunday, now he sometimes has 65 at Mass.
The inmates who do not meet with these men are the tough ones.
We go to some cell blocks, says Max Munoz, and if they want
to pray we pray. If they just want to talk or shake hands thats what we
do, but it can be most difficult to reach them.
The biggest problem facing those who wish to help these Atlanta
detainees is sponsorship. In order to get release they need
sponsors, says Munoz. Sponsors take care of them, see that they get
jobs and settle into a community. If you get the wrong inmate, the man who does
not want to cooperate, it can be touchy.
Joaquin Davila admits that sponsorship is the answer but is
difficult to work out. I sponsored some myself, he says. The
experience was not always easy nor rewarding. But it must be done if we are to
help those now left in prison.
Max Munoz has two other recommendations. First he wants Christian
churches, especially those who have Spanish-speaking parishioners, to reach out
to the prisoners. Secondly he sees the desperate need of halfway houses for
these men.
The government has acknowledged that a group of at least 100 men
are cleared for release, but cannot be released because there are not enough
Public Health Service mental health programs to accommodate them.
In addition, the recent disturbances have temporarily stopped the
release process even for those who already were cleared for release to halfway
houses.
The Atlanta Penitentiary situation is a time bomb. Warnings have
been given. No one says these men should be released. But they need to be
informed by the authorities as to their status.
Internment as we now witness it only increases the tension.
|