Why I go into prison

Lisbon dreams bring joy to the prisoner and the volunteer

Ximena Escobar de Nogales

With hindsight, I’d say it was a mid-life crisis. For months I had been carrying myself to work in an automated routine. I felt just like the coat I brought to the office every day — hung on its hook, devoid of life, simply present. I had lost all interest in the job and in my career. I knew I needed to leave in order to inhale life back into me. And so I quit my job at an investment fund and walked away from a six-digit salary and luxurious offices in the old town of Geneva. A few months later, and after many security checks, I was volunteering as an English teacher at a high-security male prison. The contrast could not have been greater. It is now almost a year that I started there. I have recovered my energy, I feel awake, engaged and grateful. While I am also back working part-time, my volunteer activity has become the main source of my inspiration.

It came to me almost in the form of a dream during those days of detachment at work; I would run a writing club in prison. Never mind that I had no credentials for this. I had no connections to prisons either. I had never even visited one. In addition, the official language in Geneva is French and, while I speak the language, I did not see myself writing in French let alone facilitating a writing course in French. I decided…