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Prison
Diary April 27 - May 14, 2002
Shane Kidd
Tuesday morning 30th April.
Let out for breakfast and the usual audience is there to heckle.
They are somewhat taken aback when they receive a barrage of Shona
telling them to fuck off. These are not the broken prisoners that
they expected. The 11 who where brought back to the cell last night
are released so now there are 8 of us left. At about 10am Tapiwa
arrives and they start to take our statements. It’s at this time
that we find out we are all accused of burning down a house (well
actually 2 doors of a house) in Ngangu and causing $220,000 of damage
(expensive doors). It doesn’t take much to figure out that this
is Mwali’s house and we all act suitably aggrieved. CID spends the
rest of the day taking 5 statements. God, you think my "hunt
& peck" typing is bad, you should see these fools. Tapiwa
is obviously experienced with this sort of inefficiency. He’s brought
a National Geographic to read. We can’t go to court on Wednesday
because it’s a public holiday 1st May, so Tapiwa informs
the CID that as of 12am Wednesday our 96 hours are up so he will
be suing the police for illegal detention as well as assault and
torture.
On our return to the cell at 5pm we are
introduced to our new cellmate who is in for attempted rape. His
name is Isaiah Benzi. He claims he’s 17. The police say he’s 18
and the collective opinion of the cell is that he can’t be a day
over 13 years of age. He’s 4-foot high, weighs 30kgs which is mostly
stomach supported on spindly legs. He still has that squeaky voice
that boys have when their balls drop at puberty. He’s a Chimani
street kid. Yes, in our effort to maintain the high standards set
by Harare we have introduced street kids to Chimani as well. Isn’t
it hell keeping up with the Jones? Isaiah is clever in a street
kid survival fashion but is not playing with a full deck of cards.
His mother is dead, his father is a witch doctor who has abandoned
him because his stepmother doesn’t like him, so he has to fend for
himself. It’s his 1st night in the cell and he is silent
and very wary of us. By the way, I neglected to mention that there
is no light in the cell, so when the sun goes down it’s lights out.
We try to tell him about the water and when we tell him to get up
he must do so and come to us, but he’s very wary. So we all settle
down for the evening. Regular as clockwork, 10pm the 1st
bucket of water comes through the window. I make a grab for Isaiah
and get thoroughly drenched for my efforts. He just freezes. One
can only assume that he thinks it’s another bunch of adults trying
to give him a hard time. By the time the 3rd bucket comes
through the window he figures out that we are not the enemy and
has come over to take shelter behind us. After the normal clean
up he huddles down with us to get some sleep.
Wednesday 1st May.
Let out for breakfast. By now Isaiah realizes that we are on his
side and he gives the spectators and police a telling off about
the water incident the previous night in truly glorious fashion.
We share our breakfast with him and return to the cell. He becomes
more open during the course of the day, his method of survival in
the adult world is to have a fast & entertaining mouth and he
keeps everyone in stitches of laughter with his antics. We are left
alone for the day, the tedium being broken by Birgit’s visits at
mealtime. After lunch Talent started to sing and the rest joined
in. His range and harmony is very good. The singing goes on for
about 2 hours. Talent is a big sod of 24 with 2 wives he married
on the same day. The older one was pregnant and the younger one
under age. He was going to get sued for both of them so decided
to take the easy way out and marry them both, big mistake! Sufficient
to say he regards the cell as a welcome break. At dinner I get into
a swearing session with an army Corporal who is trying to intimidate
Birgit outside the yard fence. He’s one of the ones who have been
watering us at night. After Birgit leaves he threatens to kill me
and bury me in the local Heroes Acre and I tell him that he will
go with me. After I finish, Isaiah starts on him and this cracks
everyone up except the Cpl. As we go back into the cell we see him
pulling the hose pipe through the fence. At about 10 pm I’m on watch
and I see this hose pipe come through the bars so grab the end and
we start pulling it into the cell. There is much tugging and swearing
on the other end but to no avail the pipe is now our property and
a good night’s sleep lies ahead of us.
Thursday 2nd May. In
the morning the ZRP driver is confused. His hosepipe which normally
resides in the yard has been stolen. When Insp Chagugudzo comes
up to inspect at breakfast we walk out with the hose, all sweetness
and light trying to be as helpful as possible. We appreciate that
he has only been in the village a short time but if he wants to
install a shower in the cell he should really get hold of Mr Matutu.
He’s more expensive than the rest of the builders but far more reliable
than these fools from the army who do crap work and then run away
with your money. He was pissed off but could do nothing. We are
then transported thru to Chipinge court in handcuffs so we all give
the MDC wave as we go thru the village. When we get to Chipinge
we are put in the cells behind the court and at 3pm we eventually
get called to court for bail hearing.
The P.P. opposes bail saying that we
are dangerous criminals with previous charges and he is scared that
if we are let out we will try to intimidate Mwali. Our lawyer demands
bail, points out that the P.P. case is full of shit and we are being
persecuted because we are MDC. The Magistrate says she will make
a written decision and postpones the hearing until Monday 6th
of May, so it’s back to the cells for us. At about 6pm we are transported
through to Chipinge prison in handcuffs with the rest of the remand
prisoners. While we are on the truck a prison guard reaches over
and starts to hit Talent, David, Lovemore & Chom’s. I am left
alone. He’s ZANU (PF) no shit! When we get to prison we go through
to reception where we all take off our clothes to hand them in then
stand around naked for 10min while they issue us prison clothes.
I use the term "clothes" loosely. The red shirt I am issued
with has a neck line, hemline and some arm holes connected with
arbitrary pieces of material. The khaki shorts are even worse, more
notable for what they display than what they conceal. We are also
given 3 blankets each then marched through to the cell block. As
we march into the cell block the same guard who hit the guys on
the truck lays into me with a rubber truncheon. 2 weeks later I
still have some lovely bruises on my back and arse from the incident.
We are then given sadza and swill, 30 seconds to eat it & marched
off to the cells for the night.
Friday 3rd May. This
is the 1st in a long line of days. Prison routine doesn’t
vary for those on remand. It’s endless tedium interrupted by occasional
bouts of boredom. We get up in the morning and fold our blankets
on the floor where we sleep, yes its back to sleeping on concrete,
leave the cells at 6.30am to be counted then back while the convicts
get breakfast, then out for our breakfast - a cup of tea and a slice
of bread with the tiniest touch of margarine on it. The prison obviously
believes in the principles of homeopathy - less is more. The tea
is tasteless but depending whether your cup is dipped into the top
or the bottom of the bin you either get a cup of mostly liquid or
a cup of mostly leaves. This is followed by a quick shower under
one of the 2 remaining taps in the toilet block. The showers, toilets
and urinal no longer work (don’t think they have worked in years)
so we use the basin taps which is relatively easy because the basins
where discarded a long time ago. Then cleaning the cells toilets
(the toilets are flushed out twice a day with buckets of water,
the idea of having plenty of roughage in my diet does nothing for
me) and yard. Then lie around the yard until inspection at 10pm.
Inspection is meant to be when the prisoners give complaints and
make requests to the duty officer, but you quickly learn that it’s
a waste of time and everything is forgotten the minute he turns
his back. Then at 11am you get lunch which is a large plate of sadza
and a spoon full of vegetables, mostly rape. Then its back to the
cell until 2pm, out into the yard until 4pm when dinner is served.
This meal is sadza & water. Technically the water is meat, but
only every 5th person gets a piece of meat (boiled pork)
about the size of a match box. The rest get water with a film of
fat on top. After dinner it’s back into the cells until the morning.
Your choice of activity is walk, sit, sleep or talk. Because I don’t
speak Shona my conversations where limited unless someone was talking
to me directly. About the only constructive thing I managed to do
was catch up on my tan. Talent and the guys quickly found friends
old and new.
Friday morning they were fairly depressed
about our continued detention but are hoping for Monday morning.
It falls on me to become the pessimist and try and convince everyone
that we will be here for much longer while CID & CIO play games.
In prison, if you are constantly hoping for short term results &
being constantly disappointed, then depression can set in very easily
so I’m anxious not to let them get their hopes up too high.
In the morning we all get a haircut.
Talent is pissed because he’s been growing dreadlocks "Henry
Olonga" style for a while and is about to lose them. The style
is uniform, as close to the scalp as you can get with a blunt pair
of scissors. Believe me Vidal Sassoon has a lot to learn from the
inmate who cut our hair. We are then taken thru to reception to
be registered. Isaiah has been transferred with us. We are all asked
names, addresses, ages etc. When they come to Isaiah he still claims
to be 17 and gives his DOB as June 85. The deck Sgt knows it’s illegal
to keep juvenals in detention with adults so has a dilemma . No
problem, he tells the clerk to put down his DOB as June 84. Isaiah
is now officially 18 years old & all problems are solved. God
you talk about Alice in Wonderland.
The 5 of us have sort of adopted Isaiah.
He’s a Chimani street kid so we might as well look after him. Birgit
has brought him in slipslops (all shoes are confiscated when you
enter) so we are bare foot until Sunday when she manages to bring
us all some slipslops as well as tooth brush, towel and soap. He
also shares whatever food Brigit brings us every day. It’s actually
quite a good reward system because he’s a dirty little bugger and
has to wash his clothes, blankets or teeth before he gets his share.
We have also dragged him off to the dispensary to get the sores
on his legs sorted out. If he would only stop picking the scab the
bloody things would heal. Its amazing how easily kids adapt. By
Sunday he’s running around talking to murderers & rapists completely
at home in his new environment, but if he stays in here too long
he will get lost in the cracks and end up being shuttled from one
institution to another. After seeing our heads shaved on Friday
afternoon, Birgit arrives on Sunday with her head shaved in solidarity.
This cheers everyone up, especially Talent. Sunday is also ration
day when we each receive a bar of blue soap about ¾ of the size
of 20 cigarettes and 2 rolls of toilet paper per cell - to be divided
by the cell whatever the number. We also receive a lesson in prison
economics. A share of toilet paper is worth 4 twists of tobacco.
The inside of the toilet roll is kept by the cell playing card maker
and packs of cards are sold for 4 twists each. One twist of tobacco
slipped to the cooks will yield an extra piece of meat at dinner
(about the size of a matchbox or an extra slice of bread or cup
of tea at breakfast). Tobacco also purchases drugs and scalpel blades
from the dispensary or decent pants or shirts from other prisoners
- one cigarette per item. Soap is also collected by the cell and
sold to the guards. 10 bars with a value of $400 buys a packet of
tobacco valued $25. A full roll of toilet paper valued $80 buys
½ packet of tobacco $12.50. You can tell there are no economists
amongst the prisoners. Scalpel blades are used for shaving, cutting
playing cards and splitting match sticks lengthways so that you
can double the number of matches you have. If someone has a cigarette
but no matches and you have a match, you are entitled to 2 draws
of his cigarette. With cigarettes I buy surgical masks from the
dispensary. The dust and mites from the blankets give me an allergy
at night so the mask helps me sleep; it also gives you an element
of protection from prisoners with TB. Tobacco is the money that
makes the prison function and every body wants some regardless of
whether they smoke or not.
Monday 6th May. We
are taken back to the magistrate’s court to hear the bail application
decision. When we eventually see her she tells us that she has postponed
the decision until the 14th of May so we hang around
the court cells all day before returning to the prison in the evening.
Personal note: I set myself a
new personal record on Sunday the 5th of May. It’s 8
days since my arrest on the 27th of April and the first
time I’ve been to the toilet. Having enriched the world with that
valuable nugget of information we can move on. My campaign of getting
in the Chimani authorities’ faces is obviously working. I’m collecting
some fairly prestigious enemies. I wonder what I will be arrested
for next. The fact that I’m innocent of all charges is immaterial
but they do my street credibility no end of good. Prison is a fascinating
place and there’s lots to learn. For one thing you can tell it’s
a prison farm by the amount of animals you see and the pets you
are allowed to keep. You’ve heard of "ant farms", let
me tell you about "lice farms". The blankets and clothes
that you are issued with act as a breeding pen for these beasts
of noble breeding and heritage. You quickly learn to wash everything
on a daily basis. It doesn’t kill them, merely reduces the numbers,
only the fit survive. You then spend about an hour each day going
through the seams of your clothes and blankets crushing the survivors
between your thumbnails. That they continue to survive and multiply
in this harsh regime is testimony to their breeding and survival
instincts. The cockroaches in the dining hall are a site to put
fear into the bravest of hunters. Everywhere you look there are
trophy specimens and naturally they compete with you for your food.
Eating standing up is a good idea. It doesn’t stop them trying to
crawl up your legs but it does prolong the time it takes to get
to your plate. When these things shed their skins you can use them
as shoes.
There are about 240 prisoners here &
in the remand cell we average 14 per cell. The number fluctuates
up and down. I’ve had no problems with the inmates. The food and
cigarettes that Birgit bring we share as wide as possible. The 1st
night I spent in the cell with the other 4 but the 2nd night my
cell was changed, presumably I’m considered a bad influence. In
a weird way I’ve picked up my own personal body guard. After 2 nights
in my new cell my cellmates realized that we were trying to help
people as much as possible. Thereafter, wherever I went, there was
someone from the cell in the vicinity and when other prisoners came
up to ask for cigarettes etc they where quietly asked to move on.
The guards tell me that theft amongst the inmates is a constant
problem. I can’t get worked up about carrying my towel, soap, food
etc around so I leave it in the cell. So somebody sits near the
cell door when it’s open to keep an eye on things & at meal
time he collects my things (prison officers are not above suspicion)
and returns them to my area after we’ve eaten. I was however pick
pocketed twice in the dining hall. I started eating again the last
2 days at Chimani. I mostly rely on the food that Birgit brings
but still take my portion at meal times to share with other people.
In case anyone thinks that my aversion to prison food is purely
personal, Talent says he eats in order not to be hungry and most
of my cellmates say they would divorce their wives if they were
presented this at home. Actually the word they used was kill.
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