Prayers for the Stolen

On her first day in prison, an aggressive inmate tells Ladydi to “touch the floor” (160), something each new prisoner must do “so they know exactly where they are” (160). This event encapsulates much of what frightens the women in prison. Not only are they in a new place with previous protections and comforts removed, but they are also subject to the degrading, often violent, whims of other prisoners and face the perpetual fear of attack. This is especially the case for someone in Ladydi’s position: She knows, due to the crime she is accused of, that people want to kill her. However, Ladydi appears somewhat indifferent to these concerns. Rather, the distress of prison, for her, consists in being alienated from the natural sights, sounds and smells of her home. As she says, when calling her mother, “I called the leaves, palm trees, red ants, jade-green lizards, yellow-and-black pineapples, pink azaleas, and lemon trees” (177). She revolts against the monochrome, concrete world of the prison, which estranges her from Rita. Indeed, she even looks back on the heat of Chulavista with fondness. She finds the prison eerily cool, saying at one point that “it seemed like the coldest piece of the planet on that cloudy morning” (174).

Equally, and contrary to what one might expect, Ladydi does not see the other prisoners as potential threats or enemies. Rather, her isolation and sense of injustice make her find common cause with them. This is seen first in her relationship with Luna. Despite differences in age and nationality, their shared plight draws the two women together. Both have been hurt by men. Ladydi was abandoned by her father and betrayed by Mike. Meanwhile, Luna explains that her husband “beat me every day…he slapped me across the face… All day long” (179). They are also both separated from their mothers. Ladydi, still a teenage girl, has not seen her mother since going to work in Acapulco almost one year earlier. Likewise, Luna feels permanently estranged from her mother due to her missing limb. As she says, “She isn’t going to want me around with one arm. She’s going to say I can’t work in the field and that no man will ever want to look at me” (178). This is why both take solace in each other’s company and closeness. As Ladydi says, one night “we curled up together and her body warmth entered my skin” (198). They instinctively seek each other out as antidotes to the cold—both literal and metaphorical—of the prison.

This connection is not restricted to Luna. Ladydi also reaches out to and connects with other women in the prison. Georgia, a British woman incarcerated for heroin smuggling, strikes up a rapport with Ladydi through the latter’s need for a phone and the fact that she is named after a British icon, Princess Diana. More significantly, Luna develops a friendship with another Mexican woman, Aurora. At first, Aurora comes across as an almost childlike victim. Forced to take on the job of fumigating prisoners’ rooms to make money, she walks around declaring, “my stomach hurts. my head hurts” (212), a response to the noxious chemicals she is regularly ingesting. However, Luna’s attitude of slightly revolted pity turns to one of solidarity when she learns that Aurora was a friend of Paula. Through Paula, Aurora tells the story of Ladydi’s village to the other prisoners. She knew about and described Ladydi’s friendship group, knew they had to make themselves ugly to survive, and recalled the tragedies they suffered. In this sense, as Ladydi says, “it was as if she were a road out of jail, through the streets of Mexico City, to the black highway and back to my home” (211).

Thus, in their darkest place, seemingly abandoned by everyone, the women find a source of meaning and community in their shared experiences. Ironically, they find a sense of home in each other that was often denied them in their literal homes. Indeed, even Violeta, who initially threatened Ladydi, comes around to this feeling. Encouraged by hearing Aurora’s story, she finds a source of hope and group identity in sharing her own experience of betrayed opportunity. She is able to overcome antagonism to others through an understanding of their shared predicament and narrative. The same is true of Maria and Rita. Despite Rita’s having shot Maria, in addition to Rita’s resentment of Maria as a symbol of Ladydi’s father’s infidelity, the women are able to support each other in a moment of need. This allows them to survive. Importantly, this triumph of solidarity over conflict allows them to rescue Ladydi. Although the path is fraught, it offers the hope of a new community in the US. Ladydi’s child symbolizes the hope for renewal and that the spirit of Chulavista can live on and prosper in their new homeland.