After working with four-year-old children as a kindergarten teacher for quarter of a century, Sister Maria Adele Baldacchino got the shock of her life when her provincial asked her to transfer her services to the harshest of climates – the prison.

“I felt very discouraged at the time,” Sr Baldacchino, now 76, recalls as she nurses her injured knee at the Sisters of Charity convent in Tarxien.

“I was used to dealing with children’s innocence. In fact, I made the provincial promise to transfer me if I didn’t get used to it.

“Stepping into prison, I heard words I had never heard before in my life. But I had to adapt to them – which does not mean condoning what they did. It is easy to love those who willingly love you back but it is harder to love those who insult you. But when they realised that I loved them and showed compassion for them, that love was ultimately returned.”

Sr Baldacchino not only completed her 12 years of duty at the Corradino Correctional Facility but also asked to be allowed to continue volunteering her services. So far she has spent 24 years working with the incarcerated and is fondly known as ‘the prisoners’ mother’ by the inmates themselves.

Last week, the government and prison NGO Rise Foundation inaugurated a new residence in Valletta offering rehabilitation services for prisoners serving their last year in jail. It was named in her honour.

They are people like us. The only difference is that their mistake is visible to all while that of many others remains concealed

“I was absolutely stunned – in fact, I burst into tears and was unable to express myself when the plaque was unveiled. I am so grateful to [Rise Foundation founders] Fr Franco Fenech and Charlie Mifsud.

“I am not worthy of such an honour but it’s so lovely to feel appreciated.”

Apart from looking after the prison chapel and animating Mass, Sr Baldacchino is a compassionate confidante to all the inmates who open up their hearts to her.

Once their trust is earned, it is given blindly. Sr Baldacchino insists that she learns a lot from the prisoners and from the lives of misery and suffering many of them have led.

“If I had gone through what they had gone through, I would probably have done worse,” she says simply.

She is attentive to their needs, and a firm believer that although their freedom is taken away from them as punishment, their dignity as human beings is enduring.

As a mother would do with her child, she would often correct them – an act which earned her the epithet of ‘mamà’.

She helped people rediscover God when the last time they had stepped into church was during their first Holy Communion. The inmates never forgot the love, understanding and solace they found within her, and would often visit her even when they were out of jail.

“I remember a female inmate who was very sick. I used to feed her cooked apples very slowly from her cell. Unfortunately, she passed away from an overdose but she always kept mentioning what I did with her.”

One of the most frequently asked questions she received from outsiders was whether she feared working with criminals.

“I never, ever fear them,” she says empathically.

“They are people like us. The only difference is that their mistake is visible to all while that of many others remains concealed.

“And didn’t Christ come into this world for those who strayed from the flock?”

There were yet others who were innocent captives, she reveals. Muzzled by threats of payback, some decided to shoulder the blame and not reveal the true culprits.

In all this, the victims must not be forgotten, Sr Baldacchino adds.

“You must be very prudent when dealing with the victims. They often harbour a great deal of pain and anger – and rightly so. You try to soothe them – time does help to slowly stitch up the wound.

“One of the inmates defrauded my nephew. But I still treat them all equally.” Unfortunately, there were also some who were so hard, unloved and – she adds – who have access to easy money, that their hearts remained closed.

“Sometimes, it’s impossible to get through. I feel so very sad when they shut the door. But I keep praying for them and still keep the channel of dialogue open.”

Asked what improvements she would like to see at the Corradino Correctional Facility, Sr Baldacchino replies that she wishes that those female inmates who had babies and toddlers could be kept in a separate section, instead of running about with the rest of the inmates and picking up vulgar words.

She also wishes that jobs within prison were more abundant so that every single inmate could work.

“I can’t wait for my knee to heal to return to Corradino,” she sighs, as she slowly makes her way to the convent garden for a picture.

“It is my home.”