Meet Henok…

Incarcerated: 16 years

Inside SQ live interview between RayRay and Henok

Ray Ray: How long have you been in prison?
Henok: I’ve been in prison for 16 years. I committed my crime when I was 24, but I wasn’t arrested until I was 28.
Ray Ray: What can you tell me about this picture?
Henok: I have waited a long time for the opportunity to take a picture with my violin. Playing the violin taught me perseverance and the art of playing different varieties of music. I had to put in three hours a day of hard work for two years.
Ray Ray: Does your violin have a name?
Henok: I’ve been going back and forth for years trying to figure out a name. I wanted to name her after my first love, but I didn’t want to hold on to that. So, I named my violin Nebsay, which means ‘my heart’ in African.
Ray Ray: Does playing your violin take you to another place?
Henok: Yes, it’s a place to tell other people stories in hopes that we don’t feel alone.
Ray Ray: I want to thank you for taking my position at Humans of San Quentin as an admin assistant. What can you bring to the Humans of San Quentin?
Henok: I can bring perspective to the ways the incarcerated are dehumanized in the workplace. Also, I am good at conflict resolution. Here’s a quote by a philosopher, “Conflict is the spirit of a relationship seeking to deepen.”

Meet Delvon…

Incarcerated: 9 years

I play for the San Quentin Warriors basketball team. We were in our Saturday morning basketball circle and I shared about my one year old cousin, Devyn. He was in the hospital, he had three seizures and three strokes. I was crying uncontrollably in front of my friends. I asked for a prayer, I thought he might die. His grandfather died from a seizure. I don’t know if it runs in the family, but it worries me. Don, from the Prison Sports Ministry, prayed right there on the spot. He’s the last boy that’s been born into our family. I felt it so deeply because of my uncle. My cousin, Devyn’s mother was actually watching him and when she went to the restroom, he had a seizure and died. She felt that she was the cause of his death. She feels guilty and now her son has seizures too. She worries.

I also think about how I haven’t seen my daughter since 2019. Raising a high school daughter from prison, who lives in Las Vegas, is something I have no idea how to do. She’s trying to find herself. The whole stereotype that is out there about Vegas, that is the scary thing. They say, “Try to think positive,” but the thought of a young woman in Vegas. I have no words for it. My daughter has a blank when she talks about her feelings about growing up without a father. We have a strong bond, but it’s a mystery bond, there is a blank space between us. I don’t know what she doesn’t like. I know she is the one that nips stuff in the bud. She says, “Why are you saying that?” It’s like she’s checking me and raising me. She asks me to come home and says, “Don’t get into trouble.” I watched her grow up in pictures and now she’s raising me. A daughter raising a dad in prison. It’s starting to become normal for me to share my feelings. I think it’s being around the caliber of people in San Quentin. Being in the middle of the court, which is my comfort zone. I feel safe and comfortable regardless of who’s on the court. When we say, “Bring it in the middle” it feels like home.

Meet Christopher…

Today, I’m a peaceful person since coming to prison. I live by a code of ethics I’ve learned from Odinism and Islam: courage, truth, honor, fidelity, hospitality, industryness, self-reliance and perseverance.

Incarcerated: 16 years

Before I came to prison I was a gang member. I was known as Calavera. The only reason I was a part of the gang was because I was a joke to them. I found this information out after seven years of thinking I was one of them. I guess I was really naive. I used to skateboard with the West Side Santa Cruz Beach Street Drinking Crew, they knew me as Grillfinger. I got the nickname because of my teeth, after I flipped them off. Before Calavera or Grillfinger, I was known as Fishbone, I got that back in 1992 in juvenile hall. A fishing company used to donate fish to us. I got a fishbone stuck in my throat and went to the hospital to have it pulled out. I still go by all of my nicknames. They are still me. Today, I’m a peaceful person since coming to prison. I live by a code of ethics I’ve learned from Odinism and Islam: courage, truth, honor, fidelity, hospitality, industryness, self-reliance and perseverance. I was an Odinist for 13 years and a Gothi (spiritual leader).  I learned from my elder, Andrew Lee Granger, who’s been practicing Odinism for over 40 years. I’m a Muslim now. On the streets I used to be a Christian, I was part of Victory Outreach. My pastor was Victor Alverez Sr. He’s been to prison and was slung back. He was a good dude who tried to keep me out of trouble. I used to help out behind the scenes with the youth by getting donations from skate companies. I had a lot of friends before I came to prison, now all I have is my friend Maria, and my mom. While in prison I’ve learned to control my anger. I’ve even stopped fighting over stupid things. The only way I fight now, is if someone puts their hands on me. Besides that I’m a Big Old Bitch.