Related articles and links |  1 of 6

Thousands of red brick homes, the shade of dried blood, enfold mountainous Medellín like the memory of an infamous killing. Death, Colombians say, is pan diario (daily bread), as commonplace as that staple of life. This culture of death yields 3,000 homicides a year in Medellín alone, by knife, machete, pistol, machine gun, grenade, and bomb.

Where Medellín's mountains touch the valley floor stands Bellavista. This prison complex, constructed of that same blood-red brick (painted blue and white) is where hundreds of Colombia's worst criminals and guerrillas have met an evil end in vendetta slayings. Fourteen years ago, violence reigned over Bellavista. But through the persistent efforts of Christians, Bellavista has become a spiritual clearinghouse where Colombians, deeply divided along religious, economic, and political lines, may reconcile their differences.

In Bellavista's chapel, white voile curtains cover the barred windows that overlook the prison's courtyards, where inmates once slaughtered both guards and other prisoners. Each Thursday, inmate small-group leaders from each of Bellavista's cellblocks fast, pray, and study Scripture. On this particular summer morning, a clutch of eight gathers in the chapel's corner office for worship, singing along with a videotape:

Sana nuestra tierra
("Heal our land")
Escucha hoy mi oración
("Hear my prayer today")
A tí levanto mi clamor
("To you I lift my cry")

Eyes closed, hands clasped or arms raised, the inmates lift their prayers for the salvation of Colombia. An hour later, the men prostrate themselves on the floor alongside an open Bible in the center of the room. As they weep and wail, the penetrating sound of their sobbing carries through the closed door into an adjoining room. "We repent. We exalt your name. Heal our land."

Colombia is one of the world's most violent nations, and its second largest metro area, Medellín, the nation's most violent city. In Medellín, Bellavista is the city's most lethal killing field. The prison is a microcosm of society: terrorists, guerrillas, paramilitaries, bad cops and soldiers, narcotraffickers, common criminals and sicarios (killers for hire).

Behind this prison's high walls, inmates once played soccer with a severed human head. Bella-vista's death toll ran as high as 60 a month as rival groups extended their warfare into the prison's maze of cardboard and scrap-wood cubicles, where inmates are quartered.

In January 1990, inmates rioted after daily violence prompted prison guards to walk off the job. Local leaders called on the Colombian army to intervene. But days into the standoff, Oscar Osorio, a Bellavista convict who became prison chaplain, gathered a handful of Christian volunteers associated with Chuck Colson's Prison Fellowship International. Singing hymns and carrying white flags, Osorio and his volunteers marched in procession through the prison gates, unsure if their lives would be spared.

Osorio found the prison's public address system was still working, so the chaplain boldly called prisoners to repentance. Stunning prison authorities, the inmates laid down their weapons. The riot was over. But more than that, the killing stopped and the gospel swept through Bellavista like holy fire. During the intervening 14 years, evangelicals have embraced Bellavista as an important place to help Colombians practice mutual forgiveness and achieve reconciliation.

"The presence of God is in that prison," says Jeannine Brabon, who heads Prison Fellowship for the Medellín region's 2 million people. Though less than 10 percent of inmates are believers, it's enough salt and light to bring peace.

next page... |  1 of 6

share this page

February 2004, Vol. 48, No. 2