This article was published in collaboration with the Marshall Project. Have you ever felt the need to tape National Geographic magazines around your torso as makeshift body armor? Nothing about life inside prison is normal. On day one, I was stripped of my clothes alongside a bunch of other men, marched around naked, and issued an ID number. Get over here
They have not found me guilty of being a Christian. I have only served two years here. That Nakd me to violence, which in prison is the Naked prison norm. I tried to get away, but they pushed orison into the car. They reminded me of him. Lift your dick Motor racing. Support free-thinking journalism and subscribe to Independent Minds. But Naked prison deny it. Just to be transported Tom welling shirtless superman the prison—to be outside and to feel the wind—was amazing.
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In North Korea, No. Here, a North Korean prison camp survivor walks us through her difficult journey in a North Korean prison and shares how God stayed with her through so much brutality. Her story is difficult to read but also important as we pray fervently and specifically with these secret believers in North Korea.
Every morning at 8 a. When I stand up, I must keep my head down. Each day begins the same. I put my hands behind my back and follow the guards to the interrogation room. Each day for an hour, they ask the same questions. Am I a Christian? I love Jesus. But I deny it. My ears ring for hours, sometimes days.
At the end of the day, they bring me back to my cell. The space is so small I can barely lie down. They force me to sit on my knees with closed fists and never allow me to open them. On Sundays, he often told me to leave the house and play outside. During the famine, I crossed the border and fled to China to look for food. It was there that I met other Christians like my grandfather. I was touched by them. They reminded me of him.
They never really spoke about the gospel, but I participated in their worship services. Then, one night, I had a dream and saw my grandfather sitting in a circle with other men.
There was a Bible in the middle, and all of them were praying. I always thought I was the first in my family to really follow God, but now I realize I came from a Christian family. One day when I was living in China, a black car pulled up next to me. I thought the man wanted to ask for directions, but the driver and other men stepped out of the car and grabbed me. I tried to get away, but they pushed me into the car. When that door closed, I realized my life was over.
After a few weeks in a Chinese prison cell, I was brought to this North Korean prison. The first day, I had to strip off all my clothes, and they searched every part of my body to see if I had hidden anything, money especially.
I had to squat dozens of times. Probably from a previous prisoner. I know there are other prisoners. I can hear their voices, but I never see them. It has been a year now. I will have died here in a North Korean prison. That was a victory. People who are sent to the Kwan-li-so —a political labor camp—are never sentenced by a judge.
They just disappear. No one survives the Kwan-li-so. My persistence has paid off. They have not found me guilty of being a Christian. No lawyer represented me. I just stood in front of the judge with guards behind me.
My husband was there, too. He looked at me with the saddest eyes, and I could see he had been crying. I wanted to say so much to him, and I knew he wanted to talk to me, too. He had to do it for his sake and for the sake of our children. Then I was sentenced to four years in a re-education camp. If you think a North Korean re-education camp is the worst that can happen, you have never been to a North Korean prison.
But any sense of happiness or relief quickly disappeared when I arrived at the camp. I remember seeing moving, shapeless forms. It took me a moment to realize they were people. Some were bent over; others were missing an arm or a leg. I looked down at my own arms and legs, thin like matches.
In the camp, I work 12 hours a day. Every day is just one long living nightmare. The other day, I was sick and was allowed to stay in my barracks. I thought I was all by myself when I noticed a blanket in the corner. It was moving. I studied it and realized that underneath it was a person.
I tiptoed toward the blanket and listened intently. The sounds were hardly audible, yet they sounded familiar. Suddenly, I realized what was happening. There was a woman, and she was praying, praying in tongues. I went back to my mattress and watched her for days. One day, we were working outside. She was completely shocked. Fortunately, I could calm her down quickly before her gasps alerted the guards.
Inside this North Korean prison, we wound up forming a secret church. When I saw her leave, I knew they were taking her to a maximum-security Kwan-li-so. I knew I would never see her again.
God has been with me every day, every hour, every minute and every second. Yesterday, I learned I would be released. I have only served two years here. They are much bigger now. But God has watched over me here in this North Korean prison, and I pray and believe that he also watches over my family every second of every minute of every hour of every day.
North Korea is on the brink of famine. But we need your help to continue. Will you give now to come alongside and strengthen this secret church of believers? They will murder me in this North Korean prison. They shaved off all my hair and brought me to this prison cell.
All I can do is pray. And sing—in my heart. Never out loud. The judge asked my husband if he wanted to divorce me. Just to be transported from the prison—to be outside and to feel the wind—was amazing. She was actually much braver than I was. She spoke to others about Christ as well. I need to tell them about this loving God.
Will you help build the Kingdom in North Korea? Help now! Like us on Facebook:. Related Stories.
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This article was published in collaboration with the Marshall Project. Have you ever felt the need to tape National Geographic magazines around your torso as makeshift body armor? Nothing about life inside prison is normal. On day one, I was stripped of my clothes alongside a bunch of other men, marched around naked, and issued an ID number. Get over here Lift your dick Now your nuts Hold your mouth open with your fingers On my second day in prison, I was among 20 or so inmates who were marched naked down a long, Alcatraz-like gallery past several open-faced cells to a grubby, dimly lit communal shower.
The bath area was a huge, open chamber sporting several shower heads protruding from mold- and mildew-covered walls.
Another norm in prison is the idea that friendships are fleeting. He may even have been your cellmate, for you have no control over who you live with another norm. Chaos is a norm, though it sounds oxymoronic to say so. Too much chaos. Too much uncertainty. That brings me to violence, which in prison is the ultimate norm.
I once saved a man who was choking to death in the chow hall by performing the Heimlich maneuver on him. Another of our norms is growing accustomed to having everything we do planned out and tracked by authority figures.
My money is managed for me; I pay zero taxes; and my healthcare what little there is of it is free and monitored by others. I grow nervous just imagining the prospect. Who will help them adjust to having to make decisions for themselves? Someone smarter than me will need to figure all that out.
The question you must ask yourselves, readers, is this: What are you going to do about it? Better people exiting prisons means a better society. Worse people exiting prisons means a worse society.
Jerry Metcalf, 43, is incarcerated at the Thumb Correctional Facility in Lapeer, Michigan, where he is serving 40 to 60 years for second-degree murder and two years for a weapons felony, both of which he was convicted of in Mar 2 , am. How about having someone peer up your anus with a flashlight after you visit with your family?