Cell 101B
Kuje Prison
Abuja
1 December 2018
My
dear Mummy,
You have not heard from me because prisoners are
restricted from writing their loved ones except once in a blue moon. How are
the twins, the latest additions to the family? I hope Precious is doing pretty
well and her steps are now firmer. By the way, has she passed the babbling
stage to be able to form audible and meaningful words? I am dying to meet this
little angel of Ademola.
Here, life is thoroughly horrible. Prisoners are not well
attended to. The environment is filthy and full of grime. Waste, human and
otherwise, is not promptly disposed, making flies to have unfettered playtime
all day long. Diseases and illnesses are two a dime in this forlorn
environment. Inmates make do with songs and odds to while away time. Gambling
and related vices are the staples of many a prisoner. The prison favourably
competes with the cemetery as the reservoir of wasted talents.
Mummy, can you fathom the fact that Jackson Smart, a music
celebrity, was incarcerated because he knifed a friend during a drinking spree,
when his victim defeated him in a card game? His well-composed rap music is
lost to the world. Double-Double J, a budding scientist, got seven years for
raping the daughter of an Army Major who refused to be placated with entreaties
by Double-Double J’s family. The Major spurned an offer that Double-Double J
would marry the girl. The nation has lost a new Michael Friday.
Stanley, whose biceps are multi-layers of impregnable muscles,
is wasting behind bars for a simple theft of a smart phone: a potential Olympic
medallist that we would never have.
The most pathetic case is that of Wushy Pee, a first-timer
in prison. He was a young lookout in a foiled warehouse robbery attempt,
definitely under 15 who is supposed to be sitting his SSS2 examinations. He was
lured by experienced criminals who promised to alleviate his parents’ poverty.
He is doomed to return to prison again and again because no decent half house
exists to nurture released prisoners and integrate them to the society as
useful citizens without prison stigma.
My experience with warders in this prison is uniquely
fascinating. Some warders treat prisoners with respect knowing full well that
many found themselves in prison through circumstances beyond their control:
some prisoners were done in by jealous neighbours, others for sloppy
prosecution by their attorney, yet others simply because they could not
lubricate the machinery that guarantees freedom through the judiciary. Without
mincing the truth, some warders are devil incarnate. They steal, swindle and
even compromise with some prisoners. Bestiality is a mild word to describe
their treatment of prisoners. This class of warders is in prison and the prison
is in them. A re-orientation will however go far in transforming them.
The food served here will be rejected by Jack, my puppy.
Imagine beans with stones and other unmentionable things thrown in for added
misery. Water and gari mixed up and served with watery vegetable soup. Bread
served without tea and, if with tea, then without milk and sugar. I can see
Jack vomiting at the sight of this concussion apology wrongly called meal.
Nausea rather than appetite greet each dinner. But how can the prisoners not be
fed three decent meals during their stay?
I am almost done, but before then I must regale you with
the pitiful condition of female prisoners. Some bring pregnancies to the prison
while others get theirs while serving their term. The former should be allowed
to deliver before commencement of their tenure while those that gifted the
latter pregnancies should be substituted until the ladies delivered.
While medical attention is sorely lacking, some little
girls and boys are attached to their mothers. In addition, decongestion of the
prisons would go a long way in alleviating prisoners’ woes. Will the government
listen to a prisoner? Human rights organizations should be briefed to take
these issues up.
And talking about human rights brings to mind the sordid
fact that rights and privileges assume a different nomenclature within the
confines of the prison walls. Dole is the name of the game. With clean and crispy
wads of means of exchange, the powerful money dictates the condition and
quality of life of a prisoner. Laundry can be done, bathroom scrubbed, toilets
cleaned, nutritious meals cooked, hair cut, security provided, lodging
guaranteed once you are registered as a VIP (Very Important Prisoner) by the
Government in Power—a government of prisoners by prisoners and for prisoners.
You must maintain your status as a VIP by regularly paying your subscription
and executive charges to the ‘Presido’ of Prisoners’ Republic. I think society
needs to take a cue in running a democratic government.
Lest I forget, the clothes you sent fitted very well,
especially the pair of jeans trousers. The only snag: they cannot be worn
during work days—Mondays-Wednesdays-Fridays. I was the cynosure of all eyes,
even in prison, when I wore that blue vest last Saturday. I have been here for
only about twenty-one days and it feels like ages. Please weep not for me, I
will soon be transferred to Suleja Prison to complete a short term and breathe
the air of freedom again.
Mum, I miss you. See you and the rest of the family soon.
Your loving son,
Immaculate
P.S.
I am really enjoying my stay as a volunteer University
Matriculation Examination Mathematics Teacher at Kuje Prison.
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