rich@pencil.cs.missouri.edu (06/14/91)
Copyright, WOMEN'S FEATURE SERVICE, All Rights Reserved
PARAGUAY: YOUNG AND BEHIND BARS
By Juanita Miranda
Summary: Half of the minors in the women and girl's jail are
charged with the "crime of indiscipline," a handy way for parents
to unload adolescents. Often girls are never claimed back by their
parents; but the understaffed jail with dilapidated facilities and
minimal funding is not a shelter. Lamentably, with 50% of the
population under 20-years-old, there are no government programs
devoted to the problems of Paraguay's youth. (980 words)
Asuncion, April 29D(WFS) -- "My employer accused me of theft, but
then they withdrew the charge. But I can't get out of here because
I don't have a birth certificate. My family can't prove I was born,
so I have to stay in jail," says 13-year-old Yolanda Garcia, an
inmate of Asuncion's "Buen Pastor" prison.
This landlocked South American nation of nearly 4 million
people, has three detention centers: the largest one for men, one
for women and girls, and another for adolescent boys.
The "Buen Pastor" women's prison has 150 inmates, 32 of whom
are minors and who share cells with the older prisoners. (According
to Paraguayan law, the age of adulthood is 21).
Half these girls are sent to jail by their parents, as a
punishment, and the other half are serving sentences for minor
offenses. Only two are serving time for the so-called crime of
"baby-trafficking."
(Paraguay, like other latin American countries, has illegal
child-trafficking networks, that sell babies and toddlers to
families in wealthy countries for large sums of money)
"Many parents, especially poor Catholics, see the 'Buen
Pastor' as the best place to suppress their adolescent daughters'
sexual behavior. Some girls are dumped here as a punishment," says
psychologist Marta Davalos.
For this 'crime of indiscipline,' girls may be locked up for
upto three months. Some spend as much as a year here, because the
parents do not return to collect them, according to the prison's
director, Margarita Lopez.
When girls are abandoned, the prison staff try to trace their
parents or relatives but often the girls have to fend for
themselves and are ultimately forced to find jobs as domestic
workers.
However, the real problem, as Lopez says is that "people think
this jail is some kind of a shelter." In reality, the opposite is
true.
"Nobody ill-treats the girls here, but this is a 'nest of
vipers.' We used to be able to control them better by suspending
visits or sending them to the 'dungeon' for a while. They would
calm down. But now, with many privileges they enjoy, they've become
very rebellious," says jail warden Rosa Gonzalez.
The Buen Pastor's monthly budget of the equivalent of US
$1,550 has to cover the costs of food, fuel, medicines, repairs,
clothing and staff salaries, which range between US $80-350 a
month.
The prison staff consists of a security chief, six wardens,
a nurse who visits three times a week, a pediatrician, a
gynecologist and a psychologist. There is, understandably, no money
left for any humane touches to the place.
The prison is located in a residential district of Asuncion.
But the gloomy, dilapidated look of the old jail building, with its
bare balconies criss-crossed by bars and a complete absence of
greenery reflects the authorities' neglect of the place.
"We urgently need a permanent infirmary and we also need to
remodel the building so that minors, adults and delinquents are
properly separated. These projects will take time, though," points
out the prison director.
The situation for young male prisoners is no better. In fact,
it is perhaps even worse. Adolescent boys are locked up in the grim
"Emboscada" (ambush) fortress on the outskirts of the capital,
which for 20 years served as a concentration camp during the
dictatorship of General Alfredo Stroessner (1954-89.)
This isolated military fortress is an unhealthy, humid place,
where 140 adolescents live in extremely dangerous and promiscuous
conditions.
A few months ago, the director of the fortress, a priest,
Roberto Fernandez, was dismissed from his post for having chained,
whipped and inflicted a variety of physical and psychological
tortures on the young inmates.
In an attempt to put a stop to this situation the government
appointed a special judge for minors, Patricia Blasco, the first
woman to occupy such a post. Blasco believes jail should be the
last resort for minors at risk.
"Our priority is to take statements from all jailed minors to
find out about their individual circumstances and see if they're
willing to live with foster parents. Nobody has listened to them.
Isolation and prison are the least recommendable ways of
reintegrating them into society," Blasco points out.
Psychologist Marta Davalos, who works with jailed minors,
agrees that foster families might be a good alternative, provided
all cases are followed up. "But in Paraguay there is no official
policy on minors," she notes.
However, Davalos also emphasizes there could be the danger of
children placed in foster homes being exploited by the families -
something that frequently happens to underprivileged children.
"For instance, children of large peasant families are often
sent to do their compulsory military service before the stipulated
age (18), and many end up doing domestic chores in the homes of
army officers or their close relatives," Davalos explains.
Another serious and common problem in Paraguay is that adult
prisoners as well as minors languish for years in jail without
being formally sentenced, or even without a trial.
Legal sources put the blame for this on the country's highly
bureaucratic judicial system and the shortage of lawyers.
Despite the overwhelming youthfulness of its population,
(official figures show that 75 percent of Paraguay's population is
under 30, and 50 percent is under the age of 20) Paraguay has no
substantial government department to represent the interests or
attend to the problems of minors. Nor are there any non-
governmental organizations to finance or carry out social programs
for this age group.
The only institution that deals with young people's affairs
is the Minor's Office, a department of the Ministry of Labor and
Justice. And its director, Teresa Prieto, who has been in her post
for 25 years, says her department lacks the resources necessary to
develop a nationwide program. - Ends
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