📸 Photo

THOMAS THE TOUR GUIDE

‘OK, everyone. Follow me, please.’ I tried not to sound anxious as I led the group in single file across the main courtyard. Yasheeda’s friends looked around nervously, staying as close to one another as possible. ‘And make sure you hold on to your wallets!’ I called back to them as we started through the gates into Pinos, with all eyes still fixed on our little group. We made it up the stairs, into my room and I shut the door behind me, leaning against the wall and panting from the rapid climb, but relieved that nothing had happened.

Even though I now felt safe, it still wasn’t the right time to say anything to Yasheeda. I wanted to ask her why she’d taken so long, and why she hadn’t called, but I couldn’t say anything in front of the others. I had to wait until we were alone. Instead I motioned for everyone to sit down. Later, I bought more chairs for my small wooden table, but at that time I wasn’t used to receiving visitors and there weren’t enough seats to go around. Yasheeda and Sharon sat on my bed and the others sat at the table. I remained standing. It was only then that I had time to take a proper look at my visitors.

They were all tanned and healthy-looking after their hike along the Inca trail to the famous ruins of Machu Picchu and had clearly been shopping at the local markets because they were wearing traditional Bolivian clothing. I looked more closely at their faces. Not one of them was flushed from the climb to my room, but I could tell that they were quite shaken by the experience of entering a real prison and being stared at by hundreds of strange-looking South American prisoners. They all gazed back at me, waiting for me to speak.

I knew I had to say something, but I didn’t know what. I couldn’t understand why anyone on an overseas holiday would want to go to a jail to visit a drug trafficker they didn’t know. It seemed such a strange thing to do. I guess it was just as strange for them; I was probably the first real criminal in a real prison they had ever met and, for all they knew, I might have been dangerous and violent.

‘So . . . Welcome to San Pedro prison . . .’ I stuttered. ‘I’m Thomas the tour guide.’ They all laughed.

I didn’t mean for it to sound funny, and I don’t really think they thought it was, but it broke the tension. Afterwards, that line became the standard opening for all my tours, Thomas the tour guide. It was a good way to overcome people’s fears on entering the prison. As time went by, I became better and better at understanding how other people