Today I went up to El Fortín. This is the place the government built in the ´70’s to imprison and torture to death revolutionaries. Revolutionaries such as university students and political activists. Meagan and I took a taxi up a hill speckled with colourful plastic wrappers. The abandoned one-story concrete structure didn’t look intimidating from the outside. We walk in through the front hall and into the prisoner holding area. The circular domed area was sectioned off into four cells. Most of them still have the bars intact. There were slits with bars on the exterior walls to let a little bit of light in. I guess to let the prisoners know that they survived another day.
I stood in the centre absorbing all this feeling my neck muscles tense and my stomach wrought with nausea. There was no evidence of torture or of any of the going-ons of this place. Just hollow and empty rooms but I was overwhelmed with disparity. Some say people can feel energies and though I am not a believer of such fables, this “feeling energy” would be the best description.
I walked down another passage way to the back exterior area. There was a kitchen and toilet facilities. These are now owned by the critters that dwell in the dark. I think I might have seen the shadows of rats scurrying.
I walked on the roof. From here you can see the beautiful volcanoes in the distance and all the green leading up to them.
I walked to the side. There were two solid concrete cellars no wider than a small coffee table and no taller than myself (5’2”). When the prisoners didn’t die after the torture they were put here and locked up until they did.
How fitting for this to be the “castle” of the garbage dump. The nausea stayed with me for most of the day.
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