I am finally blessed to share with all of you one of the greatest pieces of news in my life, though some of you have already heard. Nevertheless, it's something to shout to the roof tops.
It's often hard to celebrate in this place due to the surroundings and also the circumstances, but a man that binds himself to tragedy more than triumph is in a prison far harder that the stone and steel one that encases me.
In my first book ("Tribulation's Eyes) I cite the quote:
"Difficulties show men what they are. In case of any difficulty God has pitted you against a rough antagonist that you may be conqueror, and this cannot be without toil.”
That is a quote that I breathe and spiritually tattoos my skin, because I know it pertains to me. Through everything that I have been through I know there is a greater purpose and everyday it unfolds and each accomplishment is a verification to that fact.
All of this stems from me getting my first contact visit with my daughter Nydesha in 12 years. 12 LONG years! For those that know my story know that the last time I held my daughter she was 8 months old. I have watched her grow up behind glass and only by the Grace and Guidance of God did we grow together regardless of the circumstances. Though separated by glass we did remain connected at the root!
We (me and my family) had been looking for the right time to bring my daughter down for a visit. My grandfather being a former teacher for over 30 years- is never easy on school missing. That's just a rule embedded in him, so I had to haggle with him a bit about getting Nydesha down during school hours. So, we were waiting for the next holiday to approach. But, it dawned upon me that I needed to remind my grandfather to a few things: one was that we should live in the moment. Just as we could not predict the future a year ago we cannot predict the future today, therefore we should enjoy each day to the fullest. And since it has been 12 long years it wouldn't hurt if she missed one day of school for this occasion. The second thing that I had to remind him of (which wasn't easy, but it was necessary) was that this IS prison and that I cannot guarantee my status from-day to day. I would love to be able to promise you all that I'll always be trouble free, but that is not a promise I can or will make. While I can control me, I cannot control my environment. I walk among the hopeless, childish, the criminal minded, the passive, the honest and the devious. At any time anything can happen. It happens all the time. And at the same time I can never predict the action of an officer; officers who bring their personal problems to work and take it out on prisoners. For those that know me, they know that I prefer to die on my feet than live on my knees, so my walk is like that upon a knife's edge. I forever walk cautiously and carefully.
Thankfully the Thanksgiving holiday came. We had made plans for October, but the system-wide lockdown prevented that.
While I wasn't officially told Nydesha was coming I did have the feeling that on November 22nd I was going to visit with her and once I stepped into the visiting room and saw her- her back to me, long hair flowing- I could only hope that this wasn't a dream and I'd be waking up with that longing heart again.
The day wasn't a dream and as I approached the table and she got up to hug me, I could have died at that point and not regretted a thing. I hugged my baby girl so tight, lifting her up to the sky, to where I didn't want to let go. There was no room for tears this day- only room for lots of kisses and hugs.
I was finally able to sit down with my child without glass being in front of us and I took advantage of the moment. I held her hand, soaked in every piece of her face, ran my fingers through her silky hair and just absorbed the moment. I had to tell her to excuse me because I simply had to make sure this wasn't a dream- those dreams where I wake up to find myself within those white walls knowing contact wasn't allowed. All those days that I wondered if I would die without ever getting to touch my family again. The amerikkkan dream, you know! And I also had to tell her that I was making for lost times. She understood.
I am proud to say that Nydesha and I have a special bond that is beyond words. You might be surprised to hear that I have been criticized about voicing what our bond is like. I remember a person that I used to write telling me how calling Nydesha my "little twin" or "soul mate" was nice, but what did it really do when it was time to feed, clothe and care for the child. It was a low blow, but I accepted the punch humbly, because I understand that no man can TRULY call himself a father from inside these walls. Even if we had every dollar in the world to care for the child NOTHING makes up for the physical and spiritual touch needed. I understand and I have never claimed to be more than I am nor claimed more than I can do. But, for those that know, know how much I go out my way for Nydesha- be it asking friends to remember her on birthdays or be it me saving funds from poetry books sales to send to her instead of having it sent to my prison account. It's not much, but I try. And all that counts in my world is that Nydesha accepts the effort and the bottom line is SHE has embraced me as her father, more than her daddy and always her confidant. So, nothing else matters to me, but that one opinion.
So, the visits were great. We visited on the 22nd for 2 hours and the 23rd for 4, then we got one 2 hour visit on the 29th which I shared with my dad as well and one of Nydesha's friends Sierra. During this last visit we sat on the outside patio because the weather was nice. Keeping with its weird make-up it was probably in the high 70's that day- a beautiful day for a picnic and we imitated one as best as we could (bees and all flying over our heads). Ironically enough her friend Sierra had a play uncle that was executed on death row a few years back. Since she doesn't know his full name I'm unable to know if I knew the guy, but once again it's amazing how God ties certain people together (they met at a church camp). And so we have family with extended family. And this was a moment that I shared for all my brothers on death row with children. There's too many times that I saw the children in tears or the children saying their last goodbyes. I'm not the first to leave death row, but am maybe the first to have fought like I did, came as close as I did- so I give a special victory salute under those circumstances.
The week was topped off with my return to work in the kitchen (for those that know I was on medical unassigned for a month and a half after a spider bite on my right elbow). I returned on the 26th- right before Thanksgiving (BIG smile). I was able to work on Thanksgiving, which (by being in the kitchen) meant turkey and cakes galore! I don't want to embarrass myself with how much I ate, but let's say I had plenty and had it the way that I wanted it (meaning I didn't need any vegetables to help fill me up). Though in my politically correct mind I don't "celebrate" Thanksgiving I'll tell you like I told those around me- "Though we might not celebrate this holiday (due to the TRUE history of the natives and those that came to these lands) it doesn't mean we can't take them for everything they're worth." And we tried.
Being able to sit and be with my daughter in this fashion has rejuvenated me. It has given me the extra strength I need to keep on pushing, because I still face losses and hard times. And some know of what I speak, but we won't focus on the negative. I know no other way than turning stumbling blocks into stepping stones, so nothing changes. It seems like I've always had this clairvoyant gift (see predictions like my writing "8-cage'~), because I called it right once again in my poem "Real Talk" (see my MySpace page). But, every adversity remains my motivation and-my motivation is something that can't be tamed.
I thank God for these last 2 weekends with my daughter. We are looking forward to a Christmas visit or maybe in January. Now, with a 12 year-old, I've finally begun to experience those parent horrors- boyfriends, make-up, shopping, cell phones, and anything else you can think of. My goodness. All I can say is ALL HAIL THE MOTHERS OF THIS WORLD. No wonder female activist and writers have been the ones with the most influence on my spirit. What you do and who you are is one thing I do celebrate.
And so, we take this as one more step towards the greater victory to come. I thank those of you that have remained as an encouragement for my struggle, for those comrades in Texas that spends time with Nydesha when she's here and most of all I thank those for their prayers that prayed for this day to happen. My heart is heavy today but this time it's not from pain, it's from Love.
Talk to you all soon.
Level Review 8.30.08-9.5.08 For those that have remained posted to my situation you will know about how I had been kept on Close Custody for a year- an environment that was only slightly different from the one I just left. It was a test of all tests. Mentally and spiritually. What these people attempted to place on me as only a year was in fact something way beyond that- it was a 12-year wait. It was a 12-year wait that should have never had to be. The weekend had passed and the 2nd had approached. Usually when you have an appointment somewhere (Medical, Attorney visit- amongst a few things) you receive a notice the day before. I didn't receive a notice that I would be attending Classification on this day, so I was caught off guard when an officer came to my cell and said I was wanted for Classification review. I had thought that maybe they would purposely make me wait until the last date for the review- the 5th. But the day had come. I put on my best whites and took the stroll to the Classification office. There I was faced with the same Major (Ambriz) that I had when I was denied at my 6-month mark. This time he was flanked by 2 new women. I was told to take a seat and my file was gone through. At our last meeting 6 months ago my review ended with a denial and a verbal protest from me. I didn't know how this one would end. While I knew I had a chance to get my full level I didn't expect it. I expected a partial upgrade and in the back of my mind I expected some excuse for another denial. The Major went through my file and stated- "The computer suggests G2." I didn't give the slightest response. I knew that there had to be 2 out of the 3 agreeing, but I also know that they make these decisions ahead of time. The woman to Abriz's left asked if there was any disciplinary. Ambriz responded only one, but it was minor and had no bearing. So, with that no more inquiry was given and Ambriz marked on the paper- "G, line 1." When he did that the lady looked up at me and I couldn't help but to at that point let off a slight smile. "You can take the cuffs off of him now." And that's what it was. My files were wrapped up and the Major excused me on my way. Without as much as a peep I slid on out the door with some pep in my step and I hit the pavement for the first time without the steel rings around my wrist. In the short time that I've been on the Unit I've come to know a few people- many guys having read about my case in Texas papers and when they saw me on the sidewalk they couldn't help but to extend a fisted salute and a smile. Without a doubt I reciprocated it. I returned to my cell, packed all my property and left Close Custody. I gave my greetings to those I associated with and walked out the door with a lot of support from those that knew what I had been through. As one brother would tell me in a heartfelt way- "You have to remember, you're an inspiration to a lot of us." I was immediately sent to 4 building- A.side of the prison. A.side being what's considered the "good" side of town- whereas 8 building (close custody and majority medium custody) is known as the not-so-good side. The ghetto of the city! It's a whole different way of life on this side- clean walls, jobs, but sadly all coated with a mentality that you better not mess up otherwise all of this can be taken from you at the blink of an eye. I was already prepped by brothers who had been over here about the officers that abuse their authority and also like to be playful. Neither of these things are things that I'm used to, but I realize that if I am to put myself in a position where I can enjoy the fruits of my and my people's struggles then I must be smarter than my adversaries. As Ralph W. Trine said: "When apparent adversity comes, be not cast down by it, but make the best of it, and always look forward for better things, for conditions more prosperous." I realize everyday will be a struggle, so like a babe once again I take baby steps. I spent my first few days walking around to chow, just soaking up the days. By this time I had hugged and been hugged at least 100 times by brothers I knew or had heard about me. Men I didn't even know came up to me and shook my hand because they had read about my struggle. One guy had read about my daughter in the Bay Review! It was all a beautiful thing. But at the same time I was as lost as a kid in an amusement park. I had to ask some of the brothers where to go, what such and such means and how to do this or that. It's often followed by a little laugh from them, but always by a pat on the back, because they realize for the last 8 years I have been boxed within a box. In all actuality out of my 12 years of incarceration I had only spent maybe a little over 3 years around other inmates (before the isolation at Polunsky in 2000- and those 3 years include the 11 months I spent in the county jail). So, this is an accomplishment beyond words- no more cuffs everywhere I go. No more isolation. Of course, anything could happen from day to day to drop my levels again. I know that. All I can do is walk my walk and deal with what comes my way. I definitely am not entertaining any thoughts that my struggles are over forever. I was immediately given a job working in the kitchen (not that I need to be around any food judging by some of the teases I've gotten from the few pounds I've put on. I guess some people forgot that my greyhound look back then was compliments of Polunsky oppression that we had to protest and go and entertain hunger strikes and no commissary for months at a time. That's caustic humor for those that didn't know. I don't regret any of it.) The kitchen would prove to open a few other doors to me (not just the refrigerator ones). I came across 2 guys that I knew on death row- Johnny Bernal and Raymond Cobb. Both were freed from death row in 2005 when the juveniles were freed. These weren't close friends of mine, but were guys I had met. Nevertheless we hugged each other like we were long lost brothers. We spoke a bit about our personal situations back then and currently and then parted to finish work (though we'll definitely be seeing more of each other from day to day). But again, the best was yet to come. Victory Day It had been awaited for longer than I could remember. Now as a G2, line 1 I could qualify for contact visits and my day had come. September 6th I was called from work for my first visit as a G2. I went back to my cell, showered and pulled on my freshly starched whites. I adorned my boots- checked the mirror one last time and walked with a mean swagger to my visit. Once there I would be told to go to table 15; and there was the greatest thing in the world waiting for me- my amazing grandfather who had raised me and been my rock for the majority of my life. I walked up behind him and gave him a hug. He rose with a great smile and hugged me back. We embraced even tighter and I gave him a kiss on his cheek. The smiles between us could have lit a black hole in the universe. We clasped hands and rejoiced at the day. We sat down, ate together, had a bunch of laughs and had a great visit. I remember there were days that I never thought I'd be able to touch my grandfather again. All of this has come with many losses too- my grandmother being riddled with Alzheimer's disease so bad to where she can't leave home for such visits. It's a pain (almost like my mother's death) that I will have to carry with me for the rest of my life. My victory hasn't come without scars as well. It was hard to let go, but we said our goodbyes for the day. I hugged my grandfather- the man I love the most- tightly and gave him a kiss on the cheek as we parted. It was a beautiful day and all the brothers asked me how I felt. Again- it's something beyond words. I am thankful beyond words. Now I only await the final pieces to this puzzle and that's to be able to hold my daughter and wife. But of course there are so many others that I too would like to be able to spend time with. God willing it will all happen. But for now I just take things one day at a time. Little by little I will adjust to my surroundings and I hope to be able to take full advantage of what is available to me. As I close out Resurrection Week I bow my head and say a silent prayer for those that couldn't be here and amongst all the ups and downs, struggles and glories I do realize- as I've said thus far- the best is till yet to come. Stay Tuned...the struggle continues
8.30.08 Anniversary Journal EntryKenneth "Haramia" Foster, Jr. It dawned upon me that the one-year mark of my 2007 scheduled execution was approaching. The emotions of that day still have not resided and perhaps they never will, though I find myself getting stronger each day and my vision is getting clearer. I've never been much for celebrating "events" in prison. I can't relate to most holidays and I never feel enough freedom to experience TRUE joy in my celebrating. But, I have found ways to smile and enjoy the beautiful things that we pull out of this type of situation. When the joy and pain combine it's kind of like something a man named Walter S. Landor said: "A smile is ever the most bright and beautiful with a tear upon it." So, I decided to enjoy myself. I decided to let the disciplines down for a moment to pull back into myself and rejoice in what has manifested for me. I had to tell myself- "OK, no level 2 or level 3. No hunger strike right now. Enjoy the moment." What better way to set things off than with some celebration cake? So, the first thing I did, a few days before the anniversary day, was to buy me a cake (OK, it was more so a pie). There's some creative cooks around here. When you have very little to deal with I suppose you become a genius at making something out of nothing. So, I ended up with a banana pudding pie, which I sinfully ate. But, no regrets this day. It was a day to enjoy. I let a few days pass before I went into mode 2. I decided to cook a special meal for me and my cellmate. That would be accomplished with what I have coined as: the double decker pizza. For those that have tasted this, this has become a favorite request from me (yeah- I've picked up some of those creative cooking skills too). What was strange about this day was I had somehow thought that it was the 30th. I can't explain how I lost a day. I can only think that perhaps it was all the anticipation I had approaching my review. But, maybe it was something else that caused me to wake on the 29th and begin my celebration. I wouldn't catch that understanding until later that day when a comrade inquired about why I was celebrating that day. With a "You don't know why" expression on my face I lifted my left arm and showed him the Texas Tears tattoo on the back of my arm and highlighted the 8.30.07 date inked into my skin. He left off a little smile and told me- "But today is the 29th." Like Homer Simpson- "DOH!" But, it wasn't as bad of a bungle as I thought. When I later told another comrade of mine about the event he gave me this: "You didn't mess up. You celebrated just right. You see- the 29th is the TRUE day that you went through your trauma. It's the day they kidnapped you and it's the day you were dragged into the death house. It was the day that you first saw the death chamber room. So, you can see the 29th as your demise and you can see the 30th as your resurrection." And there it was. Everything was as it was supposed to be. I went to bed with a smile on my face and in my heart. By the time the 30th came I felt like I had celebrated plenty with cake, pizza and excitement, so I took this day to simply reflect on my life and give thanks for having this opportunity. Looking at those that have been murdered after me, looking at the complications with the Jeff Wood case I still wonder how/why I am here. I realize it's due to something greater than me and I realize that this doesn’t come free for me. There's not a moment that thanks is not emitted from my heart and I realize that I have to do all I can to show that. For those that campaigned for me a year ago I understand how potent this was to them. I understand the power of August 30th (as Bryan McCann would demonstrate to me when he tattooed 8.30.07 on his left arm). 8.30.07 has become a mantra. I would end my day with prayers and appreciation and also the hope that one day I will celebrate 8.30.07 in the company of my loved ones and also the masses. It's something that I am fighting for and it's something that I can't surrender. And I do realize that this is only the beginning. August 30, 2008 was a great day, but the best is yet to come.
