Have You Lost Your Liberty, Living in South Africa? We South Africans are very verbal about the circumstances that we live in. Stories of misery, be they actual fact, rumour or multiple duplications of the same event gets the lion’s share of attention whilst solutions to the problem that require anything more than the promise of a quick fix are ignored by most people. One of the biggest ‘Stories’ that is circulated and re-circulated is the rumour of ‘Them’ – (The Criminals), have ‘More Rights’ than ‘Us’ – (The Tax Payers)… The reality about how convicted criminals live has been accurately penned by my friend and Brother in Arms, Stephen Clark. It is a paradigm shifting piece of writing worthy of the utmost respect. Prison If I had been to C-Max prison in Kokstad, I couldn’t tell you. Every visitor signs a sworn statement that they can never reveal what they see there. Google it and you will find exactly two photos. Both pictures are taken from far away so there is not much chance of you getting any information about it that way. Wikipedia have three lines about the facility in Pretoria. The most exciting thing they say is “Prisoners are kept in solitary confinement for 23 hours of each day out and specialized equipment, such as electric shields, are used by the prison guards.” What I can tell you is this. The area of the Prison where the inmates are kept is underground. The inmates get thirty minutes of sunlight a week. And when I mean sunlight, they are in a walled cell at ground level with a cage top where they can see the sky only. No trees, no leaves, sky. They cause trouble or are disobedient, wave your sky goodbye. Movement is controlled by three warders per section. I can’t tell you how. Human contact is kept to a minimum. There are no privileges. No DSTV or leather couches. There is a cell, a steel bowl for toilet and water, a rack, a blanket and you. If the air-conditioning fails it’s gonna get ugly. If you want books to read, you earn that right. If you want visitors you earn that right. Underground there is no radio signal, so a small personal FM is out of the question anyway. But this is where we keep about 50 000 of our dangerous criminals. If you were lucky enough to be placed at a Medium prison, such as Westville, things are slightly better, but in other ways, not so. “Cells” consist of large rooms housing between 20 and 50 inmates of similar age and conviction. You don’t put murderers and shoplifters together. There are internal gangs which run the cell and section hierarchy as to the best beds, extra blankets, toilet and washing privileges. You as the new boy fit in the bottom, so you are nobody and get nothing. Regardless of your race or who what sort of important person you thought you were in the world. Inside those walls you are nobody. And there are enough inmates to make sure you know that. Furniture is reduced to triple bunk beds. Mattresses are bare foam and your bedding consists of a grey dog blanket. Cleanliness and thread bareness varies. Windows in the cell are narrow slats about 20 cm wide with thick steel bars. They are above eye level so only if you are on a top bunk you can see out. The view is normally another face brick wall a few meters away. For the few minutes direct sunshine peeps down your particular hole it slightly warms the bare concrete floor. In some cells, a smaller than laptop size TV is housed inside a steel cage above the door. The extremely grainy picture can only just be recognised as SABC 1. If you are lucky there is a bit of sound, but unless there is absolute silence in your cell, you can’t hear anything. It is switched on and off remotely. You have no control. Some cells I visited had static to watch. A warder told me he lost the key to the cage so can’t adjust the set. The cell entrance is a barred gate and then a steel door on the outside. If your group has been good the door is left open during the day and a bit of fresh air gets in. Bath and toilet are in a concrete sink and steel bowl. That’s if the water got switched on. Cold water mind you. The lights are on usually at twilight. So you are either in pitch dark or light. Food arrives by trolley. You get your plastic plate and cup from under your mattress and line up. You get tea and a couple slices of bread in the morning. Lunch is normally pap and something resembling a condom full of dirty polony. Cold. Supper is pap again and maybe some anchovies or mince. Cold. Exercise time is conducted in a bare walled concrete yard. You do not see grass. Depending on how long you’ve been there and if you have earned the privilege, you may be allowed in the library. But not all day. You do not get to wander around freely like you see on American TV. You are in your cell or under control outside your cell. There are no basketball courts, or cricket nets. If you have earned the privilege of getting a phone card you can make a call, that’s if you can find a free phone in working order. Telkom don’t rush to prisons to do repairs. If you damage or break a phone, your survival is counted in minutes. There are no couches or chairs. You sit on your bed or on the floor. Space is at a premium so you keep out of the way of the bosses in your cell. Or else. You keep the cell clean yourself. Or else. You get out of the shower, off the toilet, away from the basin for a senior prisoner immediately. Or else. If you walk from one place to another you do so in silence. If a warder or policeman approaches you, you get out of the way. If a senior prisoner or gang member approaches you, you get out of the way. Or else. You stop and wait outside of a door on your haunches in a line. You do not just walk into an office or a room. You must be told to enter. If you have earned trust you will be put on a work party. Various workshops do different jobs such as maintenance. Warders do a count and sick call each day. If you are sick you may get to see a doctor. You are taken from your cell, under control, and to the sick bay. A State Doctor will dispense medicine in highly controlled doses. And then you will return to your cell. When you get TB you get to go to the Prison Hospital, which is a cell the size of a small office with a tiny slit of a window and a bed in it. It’s as close to isolation you can get. That is the same cell the Police will come inspect your body when you die. And that was your first day. Another 1800 something to go. (Just for a 5 year sentence) If you get to the end of your prescribed sentence and are not a threat to anyone you may get to work on an “outside” work detail. You are still in the confines of the prison but you get to do some gardening in the fresh air. You see grass, trees, and if you are just at the right angle some houses far in the distance. Visiting the Prison and visiting the mortuary had the same effect on me. The smell. It lingers on your clothing and skin. You can wash your hands twenty times but there is still that whiff of yuk. Suspend all your beliefs about what you think it is like in a South African Prison. “Rights” are something you thought you had before you did what you did to get you in there. Me? I’ve seen those places enough times opening cases, signing off dead bodies, checking cells that are wall to wall blood after a riot or a fight. You won’t get me in there for one day. I’d rather die.
Posted on: Fri, 30 Aug 2013 09:19:33 +0000
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