/ 28 December 2006

Inside story of a regime of terror

The guards disappear and the steel gate clangs shut, sealing off the outside world, and from the gloom appear men with knives, mobile phones and glazed eyes. They are not in a menacing mood this morning, merely curious, and make no effort to block the path from the ground floor, the main killing zone, to the first-floor wing known as the ”special section”.

The escort, a prisoner in flip-flops and a stained T-shirt, raps on the metal door. A pair of eyes peer from a slit before the door opens. Inside is a corridor where men in jeans and tracksuits doze, play dominoes and smoke cigarettes.

It does not look like much, but this is a haven for foreigners languishing in Venezuela’s prison system, widely considered one of the world’s most brutal and corrupt.

”Before getting into the special section I was robbed, stabbed, beaten. I was threatened with rape, called a ‘gringo’ and told I would be killed,” says Mark Viljoen, a 29-year-old South African.

Like almost all the 1 460 foreigners in Venezuelan jails, including 23 Britons, he was caught trying to smuggle cocaine. The drug mules are typically given eight years in overcrowded jails notorious for extortion, riots and beheadings. Last year 411 inmates were killed and 737 wounded, according to the watchdog group Venezuelan Prisons Observatory, which has a booklet with pictures of burned and mangled corpses.

British consuls do not visit British nationals in three jails — Rodeo 1, Rodeo 2 and Yare — because they are too dangerous. A Canadian consul who visited Los Teques, west of the capital, Caracas, ended up in the middle of a gun battle.

The government says things will improve. At a cost of almost $1-billion it is building 15 new prisons — including one inaugurated last month — to host approximately 13 000 prisoners by 2010.

The penal system director, Fanny Marquez Cordero, said the interior and justice ministry had studied California jails and was sending staff to Spain for training, paving the way for reform.

For now, however, she acknowledged that Venezuela was left with 30 dilapidated facilities racked with corruption and repression. ”In some we do not have full control.” About half of the country’s 4 000 guards do not show up for work, leaving just 2 000 to supervise a prison population of 19 257.

While speaking to the Guardian, Cordero was phoned by a prisoner using a cellphone. ”They’re not supposed to have cellphones but, well …”

Sanctuary

Los Teques, billed as one of the better facilities, is a three-storey block with seven wings housing 933 inmates, including 248 foreigners. The ground floor regularly erupts into pitched battles between rival gangs, the gunshots and screams echoing around the complex.

According to inmates there is only one way to find sanctuary in the special section. ”Money. It’s all about money,” said one, who asked not to be named. It cost him â,¬1 000 to be moved to the first floor and a $150 monthly ”cell fee” to guards and prison leaders.

Most of the foreigners had the means to get in — but not all. ”God knows what is happening to them below,” said Mike Barnatt, a 53-year-old South African who was two years into an eight-year term.

Offered £2 000 to take a suitcase from Caracas to Madrid, the HIV-positive Durban mechanic may pay with his life. He recently lost much of his hearing and eyesight and suffers pain in his ankles and head, signs of full-blown Aids.

”Physically, I’m stuffed,” he said.

South Africa has no prisoner transfer agreement with Venezuela so Barnatt must complete his sentence in a jail which offers him vitamins but not medicine. Britain has an agreement with Venezuela but bureaucratic hurdles can last more than three years.

Some inmates thrive in the special section. There is a tuck shop, a gym, MP3 and DVD players, televisions, access to the roof, cellphones and the possibility to buy whatever they want. The air reeks of marijuana but there is also cocaine, crack, beer, wine, whisky and, according to some accounts, visiting prostitutes who work from behind a curtain in cells shared by 30 men.

The director of Los Teques, Theresita Troconis, said she needed 90 staff but had just 12 who worked eight shifts, leaving four guards on duty at any one time, some of whom were corrupt.

”The prisoners have pistols, grenades, things they shouldn’t,” she said. Told about the drugs and alcohol she nodded. ”Yes, I can imagine.”

In the power vacuum inmates with physical and mental strength emerge as cell leaders. Grant Dalton, the only British cell leader, was unavailable for an interview but friends described him as a robust character with good Spanish. Another Briton, speaking in a Geordie accent, declined to give his name. ”I don’t want to speak to no newspaper, I just want to get out of here.”

The British charity Prisoners Abroad gives British inmates £30 a month, an invaluable lifeline to buy medicine, food and protection in a penal system which is one of the rawest forms of capitalism.

”Foreigners are the safest of all prisoners because they are seen as cash cows and you’re not going to shoot a cash cow,” said John Morgan, the British vice-consul. However, the greater the payments the greater the extortion. Two-thirds of the relatively generous payments by the German government to its nationals are said to be instantly pocketed by Venezuelan inmates.

Payments

Conditions are much better across the valley of Los Teques in the women’s prison, where there is a new nursery for inmates’ infants, a volleyball courtyard, table tennis tables, a library with internet access and an air of calm.

”It’s OK here, I have my own room and can buy food from the restaurant,” said one of the two British inmates, a 39-year-old who was caught with 9kg of cocaine in 18 shampoo bottles. The other Briton, Leah Pugsley (21) from Newport, declined to be interviewed but appeared to have integrated well, sitting in the courtyard chatting in Spanish to friends.

Of 277 inmates, 77 are foreigners, including Spaniards, Lithuanians, Romanians, Germans, Dutch, South Africans, Colombians and an American.

”We tend to form a clique and don’t hang out much with the Venezuelans,” said the older Briton.

Eugenie Sahupala (35) who gave birth in Los Teques, said her drug mule days were over. ”If you do one trip and it goes well you do it again and again.” She gestured to her surroundings. ”Until something like this happens.” – Guardian Unlimited Â