3pm ... ish. 

Of all continents, in sweltering heat, over 500 tourists are here to attend the event. Japanese, Korean, Australian, and miscellaneous travelers in the Philippines are not going out of their way to the island of Cebu by chance. Here, very few beautiful beaches and even less famous monuments to visit. You cannot miss the imposing festive messages plastered on the walls of the airport: "It's more fun in the Philippines! ". However, just a few miles away, the surrounding poverty is in plain sight. Slums and cardboard huts one after the other and the insane rhythm of unrestrained unbridled circulation where moppets, scooters and motorbikes strangely mingle with luxurious SUV. So, is it true? “Do we really have more fun in the Philippines"? Definitely, on the side of Kalunasan at the top of this winding hill of Visayas, that the show begins.
Aiko and Saya, two students from Osaka, came all the way to CPDRC (Detention and Rehabilitation Centre of the Province of Cebu) for an unforgettable experience : dancing with prisoners. "Who has ever heard of Dancing Inmates? These guys are rock stars! ". Even so, according to Marco Toral, the current consultant of this unique prison, these exemplary inmates are now popular around the world - well beyond the borders of the Asian curiosity. Vectors of this craze : Youtube, Facebook, and other platforms where more and more amazing videos are published and have been creating the "buzz" on the web for ten years. It was in 2009, just days after the death of Michael Jackson, the unusual phenomenon of the docile dancers in orange outfit - a large "P" on their back, leaving no doubt about their prisoners status - imposes its singularity . Millions of Internet users then discover the spectacular tribute, an infinite mass of highly synchronized little guys, reproducing the amazing choreography of the disjointed undead staged in the famous clip "Thriller" by the king of pop (245 million views). For days, these amateur pictures - posted at the time by Byron Garcia, brother of the governor and manager of the prison – will be seen on the screens of our smartphones and computers, but will also feed many doubts and controversies. This video is officially considered by the international Time magazine as one of the most popular in Internet history, placing these "men and women in orange uniform, accused of murder, rape and drug trafficking" among the most famous personalities of the web in 2009.

Since then, it's still the same song. 

Sitting cross-legged on a burning hot ground - where, a few hours earlier, spread in the courtyard, gutted sardines and colorful t-shirts were drying slowly under a blazing sun - or standing in the front row, in the soothing breeze of patched up fans, the crowd finally welcomes the dancers in their uniforms. An orange wave of happiness sweeps across the prison yard. The first round applause and enthusiastic yells were heard as inmates offer their most outrageous wiggle to the intoxicating rhythm of the unmistakable introduction of the song "Billy Jean". In the first line, fifteen young men in white T-shirts stand out from their peers. These are the leaders, the best dancers. Those who tease the female tourists with their ease and confidence, as they are determined to capture that long awaited show with a tablet or a camera.
An hour and a half of non-stop entertainment flows by. As dynamic and involved as professionals, the Inmates execute one choreography after another to the sound of the greatest hits of the past decades - Michael Jackson (Billie Jean, Beat It, Thriller or They Do not Care About Us) to Pharrell Williams (Happy), through the young pop star Justin Bieber. Spectators are amazed. True to their online performances, all executed in an admirable cohesion - and disconcerting ease – the same steps repeated every week for over 3, 5 or 7 years, imposed upon admission to the facility.
Behind the bars of their wet cells, locked until the departure of visitors, 1,500 inmates exempt of dancing (especially elderly, diabetic or in poor health) keep an eye on this anecdotal scene, unsurprising monthly ritual. Before them, on the first floor, raised in the outside lanes converted into VIP balconies, Saturday tourists never cease to cheer their fellow prisoners in action. They soon deliver them an even warmer finale than the scorching hot air that floats around them. As the leader promised the crowd: it is time for all who wish to join the great family of the CPDRC, to unite in trust and share the euphoria of last choreography. Children and adults then rush down the stairs, making their way between the sweaty dancers, sitting, smiling and dancing alongside their idols of the day. Carlo, 23, then frees a moment of his group leaders comrades. Now back to the audience, standing on a wooden table, he improvises a choreography for all the colorful people in the courtyard of the prison, and gives the crowd a crash course in dancing that closes the two-hour party with the recent worldwide hit from Bruno Mars - known for his Filipino origins - "Uptown Funk".

In a mishmash of messy steps and communicative laughter, everyone forgets for a moment the folklore of the situation. Very soon, however, the cheerful host who encouraged the crowd to join in with the prisoners regains control of the situation, thanks the breathless crowd- but obviously comfortable in this arena - and invites us to reach the exit ... with no further delay. Absolutely no way anyone would leave without a selfie in the company of one, two, or a whole group of "Dancing Inmates". Of course, this is included in the package. But beware : not time to chat. Accustomed to the routine, the inmates of CPDRC pose just as good as celebrities or as what good friends that we would like to take back home with us.
From this timeless afternoon, Aiko, Saya and all the travelers will retain much more than a souvenir photo, a flamboyant orange T-shirt or a collector's coffee mug offered upon the entry of visitors. "These are men and women like all of us who bother to smile despite everything." More than a travel story, they confess: this dance lesson will always remain an unexpected life lesson.

5h30 pm. The night already falls on Cebu. 

For prisoners still sweating, better than a post-marathon refreshment, the best is yet to come. While the CPDRC closes its doors to the public, new privileged visitors invest the courtyard of the jail that is starting to look like an enhanced refugee camps. Rugs, pillows and stuffed animals under the arms, they wander around nonchalantly holding hands. Tonight they will all sleep here, under the stars. Women, children, families and friends of prisoners transform the penitentiary into a vast playground, dormitory, sports complex, and even an open-air cinema. While some put on their basketball jerseys and engage into a very serious tournament, other imperturbably begin card games, checkers, or play the suspenseful "Bingo" - lotto game revered in the Philippines. Despite the incessant hum and noises that pace the hours of that hot June night, time seems to pause in the harsh everyday's life of the couples gathered, peacefully falling asleep alongside their children. Until dawn, cousins, nephews, parents, and lucky prisoners get to escape their daily reality for a few hours with their families, sharing comfort of their mattress, their meals, their stories and spending time with those who are orphaned or abandoned and do not receive any visit.

Carlo, Dante and Nelson, for example, share the same tragedy. These three excellent dancers (who learned everything in the prison), stars of the monthly attraction, hardly count the years between their last embrace with their parents, brothers or sisters. "The last time I saw my relatives was in 2005," tells Carlo, dancing inmate for over five years. "I had left home to live on the streets, surrounded by drug dealers," he regrets. "If I had listened to my mother, I would not be here today."

Like most of his fellow prisoners, the young Cebuano knows nothing of his future, and "pray every night for forgiveness." Here, as in all prisons around, almost 70% of detention are related to drug trafficking. If proved guilty, the sentence is irrevocable. Gone is the "prison of happiness." Transferred to Manila, then they will pass through the gate of a much darker daily life, potentially destructive. Inhumane conditions, violence of all kind; it is in any case what Marco, consultant CPDRC since 2013, does not wish his "brothers." This son of a good family, childhood friend of the new governor of the province, experienced the hell of imprisonment for seven years. « I did not understand what was happening. One day, an acquaintance framed me. Thirty policemen arrested me, pointed their guns at me and accused me of drug trafficking. I would spend the rest of my life behind bars. »  Separated from his son by his ex-wife, his mother then his only supports. « Without her, I probably would have ended it. »
In his eyes, all prisoners are his protégés. « I am the shepherd who watches over the sheep. If one of them runs away, it is me who would get him. » But he assures, since his arrival, no escape attempt were reported. Whether they are guilty or not, repeat, each inmate should be properly treated so that they rebuild the most important thing - hope. « I know only too well ; every day locked away is a torture. » The guilt and abandonment of his own people then become an obsession, leaving place only to despair and depression.

But even if all dream of freedom, some admit it : the sweet life CPDRC is not conducive to go back to their old demons - those waiting outside, scattered around the province, guarantee a disarming recidivism rate. Since the arrival of Marco, who sees his name tattooed appear on moist forehead, chests or around belly buttons, wellness starts to makes sense. "We have implemented many distractions and rehabilitation programs that everyone envies. "Besides dance that remains in the spotlight, motivated teams of boxing, basketball and volleyball are constituted. Like the famous boxer Manny Pacquiao - who recently visited the prisoners and promised to provide assistance to CPDRC - many inmates dream of escaping life behind bars, becoming respected champions with a morale ethic and physique forged out of steel.
Moreover, the singing and music - a main part of the inevitable prayers activities, men and women gather in the improvised chapel - confirming the commitment of Filipino to the Catholics rituals that distinguish them from the rest of the continent.
Finally, it is not unusual to see the "Dancing Inmates" turns baker holding, tailor, carpenter or even visual artist; some detainees who abandoned the illegal design of homemade weapons for the daily preparation of traditional buns, making uniforms or crafting objects and figurines from recycled materials.

"Life was not always pink here," says Evelyne, cell leader and guarantor of the cohesion of her co-detainees locked up on the first floor, without access to the outside courtyard for lack of mandatory separation equality. It's difficult to mention what goes on behind the scenes, but the words remain unanimous. Yes, there could have been in the past cases of abuse, at least questionable living conditions after the huge success of the ultra-popular video highlighting the dancers prisoners. "At that time, we ate very little, were forced to dance every day for hours. Sometimes, they woke us up at night to do the show with impromptu visitors. "As for the suspicions of punishment in case of missteps ..." It happened. When a dancer made a mistake, the whole line was reprimanded. "
Worse, some of the proceeds of the DVD tribute to Michael Jackson ("This Is It"), intended to improve the daily life of the rehabilitation center - where inmates appear painting a stunning picture, orchestrated by the choreographer and producer Travis Payne -were not paid back to dancing Inmates. "We have not seen a peso," said Timmy, former inmate pillar of recently cleared CPDRC now right hand man and faithful friend of Marco in the prison.

Many gray areas also remain about the traffic internally drug rumors - repeatedly blamed by the local press. Shabu (crystal methamphetamine), cheap powder found on the streets of the Philippines, is undoubtedly the scourge of the country ... and psychological way out of some detainees who braved the vigilance of CPDRC. "We make every effort to find solutions and stop the flow of illegal drugs within the institution," says Marco. "But with so few resources, we must admit that it is difficult to monitor everyone, including guards. "It's not surprising in an overcrowded prison just like most others, where prisoners are crammed to sometimes twenty per cell, with more and more coming in daily.

CPDRC now houses more than 2,300 men and women with maximum capacity of only 1,600 beds.
The party over, the dark corridors offer the disturbing spectacle of cells full of sleeping bodies, overwhelmed by the heat and promiscuity, dangling here and there the ingenious hollow flowering hammocks surrounding bars. As to naturally highlight these amazing prisoners, a sunbeam discreetly peeks through each cell, unveiling amused glances and smiles, like a divine wink reminding anyone who will believe that here, freedom rhymes with solidarity. As he his looking up at the sky, Carlo offers a last confidence, "Of course, I dream of being a free man. "At one condition:" Coming back here to dance with my friends ... "