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20
LOS VIOLADORES

Later that week, I was resting on my bed listening to Bob Marley when I heard loud chanting coming from outside. It was the kind of noise made by a football crowd. At first I ignored it, thinking it was a drunken neighbour watching a game on television at full volume. But as the noise grew louder, I could tell that the voices were real. Even then I assumed that it was just a group of angry protestors passing by in the street outside the prison. However, the sound didn't fade away; it got stronger and, judging by the volume, it seemed to be coming from somewhere inside the prison. I got up and opened my door to investigate.

From my doorway, the noise was even louder. Although I couldn't see them, or catch what they were saying, there must have been hundreds of men shouting the same two words, over and over. The sound was definitely coming from another section in the jail, but even in Pinos, a general panic had broken out. Our normally tranquil section courtyard was in absolute chaos, with inmates running about in confusion, shouting urgently. My neighbours also started coming out of their rooms to see what the fuss was and as soon as they heard the chanting, they slammed their doors behind them and ran downstairs. Something was definitely going on. I didn't know what, but it was big—that was for sure.

'What's happening? Where are you going?' I tried asking, but no one had time to answer. They were all too busy running down the stairs and out of the section towards the uproar. I eventually managed to slow someone down enough to get a response, but the only word I could actually make out as he slipped past me was 'violadores'. Unfortunately, I didn't know what it meant and by then, there was almost