Voluntarily incarcerated in Tocoron, Venezuela's most notorious prison

Tocoron is Venezuela's most notorious prison. There are hundreds of deaths every year and really anything can be had there. Weapons, cocktails and even a crocodile can be found within the walls. I willingly allowed myself to be locked up there.

Normally, the access road to the prison that overlooks an open field is deserted. This morning, however, when I arrive with my motorcycle at 7 a.m., the road has been transformed into a veritable boulevard. I park at a sort of secure stall built up for the day and leave my helmet, phone and other belongings with the same people.

It is still early and the gate of the Tocoron prison will not open for at least another hour. Me and my fixer decide to have coffee at one of the temporarily erected restaurants.

7500 prisoners

My fixer is a Venezuelan guy around my age. He has been detained "inside" for a year a relative convicted of armed robbery. Soon he will be my guide, when I will have myself locked inside the walls of Tocoron.

Tocoron is notorious. Hundreds of people a year die there because of violence. Originally the prison was built for 900 prisoners, but today it holds more than 7,500 prisoners, spread over several areas.

To avoid hours of queuing and checking for cash, we decide to bribe the Guardia Nacional (who guards the outside of the prison). Soon, after handing over our ID, we are inside without a check. This will be the last time I see a guard today, because from this point on, guards and authorities are no longer welcome. They will even be shot if they do try to enter.

El Niño Guerrero

Tocoron is led by captives with El Niño Guerrero, or "the Pran," in charge. The feared leader has been keeping the strings tight within the walls of his city for the past several years. He is respected and even considered an icon by many.

El Niño Guerrero and the Pran are nicknames of Héctor Gabriel Guerrero Flores. On Aug. 30, 2012, he and 14 of his accomplices escaped from Tocoron. Later, he was arrested again. However, because he used a fake ID during his arrest, it took three weeks for authorities to figure out that they had already detained the country's most wanted criminal. Upon his return to Tocoron, his iconic status meant he was welcomed with open arms.

As I walk in after the Guardia checkpoint, I enter a boulevard of sorts. I pass a square with live music and a DJ, a swimming pool under construction and several restaurants, stores, bars and a dentist. In front of me, an electrical company made up of prisoners is working on an electrical pole.

Nothing in prison happens against the will of El Niño Guerrero. Therefore, should I do something stupid, it is a problem for my contact inside the walls. Therefore, I am kept under close watch and photographs are taken for me.

Pistols and machine guns

Everything you can think of is available within its walls. From food to electronics and from drugs to weapons. The latter are carried openly within the walls of Tocoron, from small pistols to large machine guns. Every now and then you will see the Pran or his brother riding by on the motorcycles imported exclusively for them.

Tocoron is considered one of the most violent prisons in Venezuela and perhaps on the continent. It soon becomes apparent, then, that the Venezuelan government's claim that all of the country's prisons are disarmed is false. Official figures of the number of deaths per year are not known, but in 2012, according to leaked figures, it would be a good 600.

Crocodile

El Niño Guerrero loves animals, so as we walk further into the prison grounds, we pass a zoo with dozens of types of animals in cages-including a crocodile-and a horse run with about six adult and two younger horses. My contact likes horses so we hang out there for a while.

Slums

The prison consists of different parts. You have the flats at the beginning of the compound, then a giant slum and finally a tent camp. Your status within the walls determines where you end up. The tent camp is actually a small prison within the prison; there is even a fence around it.

My contact lives in the slum, which doesn't really live up to its name because it is one of the better places to live. Hundreds of structures covered in plywood and corrugated iron form streets and neighborhoods. The thin wooden storage boxes in which new Bera engines are transported make up 80% of the building materials.

Three by three

As we walk through the alleys we are closely watched by the armed boys in the checkpoints. My contact's "house" is about three by three meters and is shared with another person. Besides a bed and a clothes rack, he has the luxury of a small air conditioner and a TV. In the corner of the room is a bucket that serves as a toilet, the place is damp and teeming with vermin. This will be my room for the next few nights.

The place is damp and teeming with vermin

We walk around some more and my contact introduces me to some people, shows me their baseball field and we eat something at one of the dozens of primitive restaurants. What strikes me is that even things that are hard to get outside these walls because of the crisis in Venezuela, such as shampoo, oil and bread, are sold here in abundance.

Discotheque Tokyo

Later that evening we meet up with some people I met earlier that day. We meet at Tocoron's nightclub called "Tokyo. Over some cocktails, we talk about their lives inside the walls. Some have been here for years, others are just there. Behind us, the DJ plays music, and standing inside like this, this disco is indistinguishable from a disco outside the walls.

When we go to sleep I share my bed with another while two more prisoners lie on the floor next to me. Before I fall asleep I hear some gunshots nearby. I ask myself what happened again.

Banco Nacional de Tokyo

In the morning I decide to go out before the others. In the alley I sit down among the mud on a small plastic chair. I look around and think about how dangerous it is here. What if there's a fire and what if you get really sick.

Around seven o'clock we walk again. Over breakfast, my contact tells me about the dentist, the prison bank "Banco Nacional de Tokio" and the other businesses that have sprung up on the property over the years. Within its walls, Tocoron is a self-contained city including garbage collection services, a remodeling company and an electrical maintenance company.

The brother's house

Near the entrance to the compound are two large apartment buildings. In the walls of these buildings are hundreds but hundreds of bullet holes, on the buildings armed prisoners stand guard. Most of the bullet holes occurred after a battle a few years ago between El Niño Guerrero and a rival who believed that power should be divided. In an eight-hour battle with pistols, machine guns and grenades, that rival was then eliminated.

Today the apartment is the home of El Niño Guerrero's brother. When I walk into the apartment, it begins to feel like a prison. It is dark, chilly, and the fences make it real. We are watched intently downstairs by the two inmates with machine guns who make up the first checkpoint. The more stairs we climb, the greater the scrutiny becomes. The brother lives on the top floor in a kind of cell-connected multi-room apartment. It is not the nicest place to sit in Tocoron, but then he sits there for the statement, "Only one is in charge.

Amusement Park

I am invited to a barbecue, and we walk along the promenade toward the other side of Tocoron. The promenade, meanwhile, looks more like an amusement park. Prisoners dressed as jesters, sometimes on stilts, are walking around, and balloons and other things are being sold to visitors. Behind us is a dental office, and in front of us the prisoner-run electrical company is working on wiring. A poster from the "Banco Nacional de Tocoron" explains how inmates can transfer money from outside the prison.

During the barbecue, I talk with El Niño Guerrero's father and his sons. He is proud of them. Within the walls, they garner respect and they clearly hold the power. Food and alcohol abound, there is a lot of laughter above all, business is good for El Niño.

Two days after my visit, I read in the newspaper that another person has been killed in Tocoron. Two weeks later, El Niño's brother is released.