Ten months inside prison - Laetitia Zeeman

Prison ministry made a huge impact on my life.  It gave me purpose.  It made me feel my life matter.  It was the most amazing experience of my entire life. 

In 2015 a door opened for me to assist a prison pastor to minister inside Modderbee Correctional Services in Springs.  For ten months I ministered in a men’s prison. It was nothing less than a miracle, me getting approved after only two weeks while others had to wait three months getting approved.

 

I will be forever grateful for the open door.  It was nothing but God's favor. I loved sharing the word with those men in K block.  They were so open to receive because most of them had never been exposed to any kind of religion.  I loved them. They loved me as well.  Many of them called me “Mother” because I was the only mother many of them knew. 

We experienced signs, wonders and miracles in prison.  Deaf ears opened.  A man got healed from HIV.  We had many salvations.  The men taught me how to dance while worshipping.  There are no fancy music instruments in prison.  They only use something almost like a bean bag; they use to polish floors to keep the beat.  

We were only aloud to take Bibles and a portable sound system inside. No cell phones were allowed. Preaching was difficult because it’s difficult to keep flowing while preaching because you have to wait after every sentence for the translator who translated into an African language.

My first time going in, was quite a shock, getting body searched.  Not to mention the condom containers at the entrance of the eating hall. Getting body searched was most definitely not a good experience.  

When getting body searched before entering, is nothing like what you see in the movies or on television. You have to take your shoes off and not only do they search between your breasts but also between your legs.  There are many gates to go through.  

At the second gate I always got body searched a second time after entering.  Fortunately, being a woman, body searches were done by women guards.  The second time I went in, I simply prayed in tongues while getting body searched.  The third time I was used to getting body searched.  I always greeted them very friendly, took my shoes or boots off and lifted my arms to get body searched.  You get used to it after a while.

Inside prison, they even had an offering basket but they used the money to buy toiletries for those who never received any visitors.

When people on the outside would ask me where I go to church, I would say:

“My church is in Springs.  I am the only woman in church.  I am the only white person in church. The men wear orange overalls in church”.

Then people would ask:  “What kind of sect are you attending?”

The men in prison loved it when I told them these stories.  Not a single Sunday went by without the leader thanking us for actually coming to them and ministering to them and not sitting in fancy churches, drinking from fancy tea cups.

Every now and then we had baptism services as well.  We took a plastic children’s pool to the kitchen area and filled it with water.  They got inside, sat down inside the pool and had to bend backwards to get baptized.

Sometimes we served communion.

We had great testimonies.  It was simply amazing.

It’s just such an amazing memory I will always cherish, for the rest of my life. I lived from Sunday to Sunday, always looking forward to go.  I met amazing people in prison.  They became my family.  I loved them.  While writing, I can actually feel the energy in my body re-living the memory.

We once went with Pastor Eliot to maximum security where he was preaching.  Those men were in single cells, too dangerous to share cells with others.  They are not allowed to leave that small area.  We had church in the corridor between the cells.  When they worshiped, they walked up and down this narrow corridor.  

I only went to maximum security once.  I never had the desire to go there ever again. One of the men brought me his tin container to sit on.  They used these tin containers to do everything in – from washing their clothes to who knows what else.

Believe me when I say, you don’t want to end up in prison (as a prisoner).  It’s not a pleasant place to be.  Every time we went, we first had to go to the religious care office from where we got escorted to the different areas where we had services.  

You walk past many other prisoners and you have to stay in the spirit not to get offended by the lust in their eyes or listen to sounds they make.  You simply follow the religious care worker and you do not make any eye contact.  You simply block all your senses.  You don’t hear, you don’t smell, you don’t feel, you don’t touch, you don’t talk, until you are inside.  You actually get locked up inside.  There were no prison guards with us while preaching but those men who attended the meetings would protect us.  They treated us with so much respect.

I had only one bad incident.  One old man touched my breast.  Everything happened very quickly and I thought it might have happened accidentally.  The second time it happened I told him to stop it.  The third time I took a stand and never got close to him again.

Afterwards some of the men told me that he was actually from the psychiatric side of the hospital, unable to speak and not completely right in his mind.

We never judged anyone because they have already been judged.  We never asked why they’re in prison unless they mentioned something in a testimony.  I never saw a “murderer” or “rapist” or anything except Christ.  I always looked through the cross, through the eyes of Jesus at people.

One specific Sunday, we were busy worshiping when God pointed out a young man with dread locks.  At the end of the worship I walked up to him and said:

“God wants to heal you today.  He wants to reveal Himself to you as a Mother.  May I hold you for a while?”

He gave me permission.  He was very tall.  I took him in my arms and I held him.  I simply held him.   As we stood there all the men went silent.  I could feel how his body went softer and softer and others said they could see on his face that he wanted to cry.

After I let go of him, his whole facial expression changed.  His hard eyes softened.  God touched him in such an amazing way. 

I met a beautiful Christ like man in prison named Sbusiso.  He had such a beautiful smile.  When I looked at him, I saw Christ.  He was our worship leader.  Every now and then he would interrupt the worship, telling the men that he didn’t want them to be rude to their sister.  Then he first explained and translated what we were singing.

I often say:  “It was in prison, when worshipping and dancing with those African men that I discovered that I am actually an African man trapped in a white Afrikaans speaking woman’s body”.

Sbusiso’s sentence was life plus fifty one years.  When he started his sentence, he was kept in a single cell because he was too dangerous to share a cell with others.  He spent sixteen years inside prison, (eleven in maximum and five years in medium).

The day Sbusiso got bail, I cried.  I had to be reminded that it’s actually a good thing because he was not in prison anymore.  But to me, I lost a dearly beloved brother. We lost our worship leader and I never had the opportunity to say good bye.  Fortunately our roads crossed again later.

I saw many lives transformed in prison.  I often said to them:  “Prison is not the end.  It’s a new beginning.  In here you have time.  Make use of it”.

"The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free”

Luke 4:18 NIV

Laetitia Zeeman