Storytelling in Prison

John Reed

by John Reed

Story

On arrival at the gatehouse I showed my proof of identity, and was then allowed into the secure waiting room. After a few minutes wait I was escorted by his secretary to The Governors Office, set very securely in the main office complex, which itself was within the prison walls.

This prison was old, built in the 1800’s, with a very interesting history. But I was there to discuss the “here and now” of prison life for the 300 or so prisoners. The Governor, Mr. N. made me welcome and asked me simply “ do you think that what you offer on the outside will benefit the men in here ?”

My reply was equally simple “ I don’t know, but we could try it and see”. And so I was invited back some weeks later to deliver the story of the life of Elvis Presley, and play some of his music. Of course I took advice about the event from many people, including my wife, who told me “you cannot play Jailhouse Rock in a prison !”

Returning on a Saturday morning with my computer and storybook, I was greeted at the same gatehouse with a thorough security check. All was well, and I was ushered into the secure waiting room. After a few minutes my escort, a Prison Officer ( PO ) showed me into the “Seg” as he called it. This is an area of the prison where prisoners are held in isolation from all of the other men, mainly for their own safety.

The men filed in, a diverse group of about 25 men, escorted by some PO’s and I set up my offering. The atmosphere was tense, but mainly because none of us knew what the response would be. The story began, the first song was played, the tension reduced, smiles appeared, and within 5 minutes I realized that this group responded in exactly the same way as any group on the “outside” would, they enjoyed the experience.

Boosted by this reception I told the story of the life of Elvis. During the story I digressed. For example, when Elvis begins his National Service in 1958 I ask “ where were you in that year ?”. In this group few were even alive, and so I related to them what I, as a ten year old pupil, enjoyed. Family life, stories of my mum, dad and sister were told. but at this point a very tall man got up and left, not saying a word.

I worried that I had upset or offended him, but powerless to stop him leave I carried on regardless. The story unfolded, men danced together, many laughed, and the room took on the atmosphere of a social club. After 90 minutes the story ended, I was rewarded with applause, shouts, and thanks. In my opinion, and as I learned days later, in the opinion of The Governor as well, a resounding success.

But as I left I noticed one man in isolation at the end of the corridor. It was the man who had left, and he cautioned me to come over to him. I did so with trepidation, not knowing what he might say.

“I am sorry I had to leave John, but when you mentioned your mum I felt really emotional. You see, whilst serving my time in here my own mother has died, and I was not allowed to attend the funeral. I miss her every day. But in here I cannot be seen to cry, and so I had to leave. I am really sorry, I was enjoying the story”.

© John Reed 2021-05-21

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