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Arrest
and detention in Zimbabwe - Diary of the events from February 23
- April 12, 2002
Hans Christen
Wednesday 27th February
2002
At about 8am we were taken
out of our cell and whilst eating our porridge a group of about
5 plain-clothes officers from Marondera arrived at the cell and
informed us that we were to be taken back to Marondera police station
and then to the Marondera Magistrate’s Court. I was allowed to wash
my face before being handcuffed and taken to the Charge Office where
we were booked out and were able to reclaim our property. Only at
this point was I allowed to have a cigarette. Andrew Chadwick and
Nigel Hough were parked on the shoulder of the main highway, next
to the police station, from where they were observing the proceedings,
just in case the police changed their minds and decided to redetain
us elsewhere. A police Landrover sped out of the police station,
accosted them and told them to move on. We three suspects were then
driven to Marondera, shackled together in the back of a Landrover.
One of the officers examined my cell phone to ensure that I had
not switched it on. He warned me to keep it off.
Upon arrival in Marondera we were taken
back to the CID block where we sat in the courtyard in which we
had been tortured some days previously. I was then taken to Detective
Inspector Chikwanda’s office where I was able to speak to Jenny
and to my lawyer, Khanyisela Moyo, in private for about 10 minutes.
Jenny told me that she had had arrangements made for the Macheke
police station to be put under surveillance on Monday and Tuesday
nights, in case we were again whisked away elsewhere as had happened
on Sunday night. The Detective Inspector told us to hurry up with
our discussions, threatening to haul us to court only in the afternoon
if we took too long. Miss Moyo was then able to speak to the other
suspects for about a minute each before we were taken back to the
police vehicle and driven to the court.
At the court my wife, a small crowd of
well-wishers and two Norwegian Election observers met us. We appeared
in the dock and were asked by the lady magistrate in Court One whether
we had any complaints against the police. Eight of us replied in
the affirmative and we displayed our injuries. Shortly before lunch
the magistrate called the public prosecutor and our lawyers to her
Chambers. She postponed the hearing to 2pm, however later changed
her mind and postponed it to first thing the following day. We were
now all in the cells at the Magistrate’s Court where I received
a great deal of encouragement from several ZPS (Zimbabwe Prison
Service) officers. Jenny was able to provide us with lunch after
which we were told by Miss Moyo that we were to be taken to Marondera
Prison for the night.
I was allowed to give Miss Moyo a list
of requirements for myself and for my fellow suspects, such as sandals,
toiletries, medication, food, reading matter and a small towel.
We were duly put onto the back of a Zimbabwe Prison Service lorry,
everyone handcuffed except for me – I was placed in leg irons. A
CID/CIO official was overheard giving the ZPS officials the instruction
that I was to be put in leg irons, as there were many "whites"
around and it was felt that they might try to spring me out of custody!
Jenny and Chris Bell followed the ZPS
lorry to Marondera Prison, where they enquired about visits and
bringing me food. We were told to take off our clothes (including
underpants) which were put into bags provided – mine was number
163A. We donned the dress of remand prisoners – khaki shirt and
shorts. Fortunately I was able to secure a uniform that was dirty
but not in tatters – as were most of the shirts and shorts. We handed
over money and valuables to the prison authorities and had to give
all details such as name, ID number, height, details of any visible
scars, occupation, level of education, residential address, etc.
We were then individually interviewed by the 2 i/c officer who explained
the basic prison rules, asked what offence we were supposed to have
committed and warned us not to talk about politics in jail. I was
also told not to tell other inmates what my alleged crime was. I
was assured that indecent assault was not tolerated and that I need
not be concerned about this phenomenon.
During all this time we had to sit or
squat on the floor, which we soon learned was standard prison procedure
- sit or squat unless in your cell or when walking from your cell
to be fed or to shower or to see visitors. We were then given a
plate of sadza and spinach and ushered to our cells by a ZPS officer.
The prison compound comprises 8 men’s
cells, a penal block, a small women’s cell, kitchens, the dog section
and an administration block. Remand prisoners are housed in cells
1, 7 and 8. Initially cell 1 was designed for the remand prisoners
and around it is the remand enclosure guarded by a barbed wire fence
– with strands woven vertically and horizontally – and two lines
of razor wire. There are now so many remand prisoners that cells
7 and 8 which used to house the convicted are now also part of the
remand section.
I was put into cell 7 with Bornface Tagwirei,
Dickson Kumbojo and Cosmos Paradzai. We arrived at the cell at "fall
in" time when all prisoners have to sit in lines of five, while
they are counted by the cell "staff" – a position similar
to that of a school prefect. The numbers in each cell are then verified
and recorded by ZPS officers doing their rounds. This procedure
happens twice daily, also at times when soap or toilet paper is
handed out, supposedly one roll of toilet paper per 5 prisoners
per week, and in the week and a half that I spent in prison, each
prisoner was given a small bar of soap.
I walked into cell 7, approximately 5m
x 10 m in dimension, to be greeted by about 100 black faces! The
numbers in each cell vary daily, as some remand prisoners are released
on bail and new suspects are brought in, but numbers generally hover
at around 100 people per cell. There is a definite pecking order
in the cell; newcomers are generally squashed together on the side
of the cell nearest to the latrine, called "Epworth",
after one of Harare’s poorer suburbs. Those who have to sleep in
the centre of the cell are in "Mbare", after one of Harare’s
busy high-density suburbs – named so because everyone is constantly
stepping over these people on their way to the latrine. The "seniors"
of the cell are on the side furthest from the latrine, in "Gunhill"
which is one of Harare’s more posh suburbs. Peter Tapera (who has
been on remand for 17 months) and Owen Matare, two of the "seniors"
ushered me to Gunhill, found me a space in which to sleep and gave
me three blankets.
I was the only person to be afforded
the luxury of an extra blanket, which I could fold lengthways and
use as a mattress. For this I was extremely grateful as my hipbones
and coccyx were by now aching from days of sleeping on the floor
of police cells. One blanket was used as a pillow and the third
to cover myself. I was befriended by a number of prisoners, all
wanting to know what "crime" I had committed, and telling
me their problems. They are a surprisingly cheerful bunch, considering
the sorry circumstances in which they find themselves. Many, like
me, are obviously the victims of wrongful arrest – be it for political
reasons or for crimes they are "supposed" to have committed
– they are merely suspects. It becomes apparent that often the police
arrest to investigate, rather than investigate to arrest. A number
of remand prisoners obviously have committed offences, many admitted
their wrongdoings to me, however the nature of their detention leaves
much to be desired.
Many have relatives outside of prison
who do not even know where they are, such as one Tonderai Karimapfumbi,
who was arrested when he bought a stereo system and a cell phone
from the son of a so-called "war veteran". The latter
then went to the police and accused Tonderai of theft. Tonderai
was beaten severely, but he lacks the ability or the courage or
the finances to expose his mistreatment at the hands of the authorities.
Most cannot afford lawyers to help speed
up the judicial process and they are remanded in custody after appearing
in court time and time again, others have been granted bail, but
cannot raise the money. I was told of an inmate who was granted
bail of $500. He was only able to raise $485 so he languishes in
the remand cells.
The prison is some distance from Marondera,
and some relatives do not have the means or the resources to pay
visits and bring basics such as toothpaste and toothbrush, or luxuries
such as cigarettes, and they certainly cannot afford to raise the
money required for bail. The bureaucratic procedure that one has
to go through to secure the release of a remand prisoner is beyond
the grasp of many simple rural relatives who are often the prisoners’
only hope. Many of the prisoners gave me messages of support and
told me that they would pray for me and ask God that I be given
bail by the Magistrate on Thursday.
Once I had prepared my bedding on the
floor, I chatted to fellow inmates till official bedtime, which
is signalled by a guard rapping on the steel cell door at 8pm. After
this time inmates talk at their own peril, the cell "staff"
report offenders to the guards and this results in a beating. I
must say, however, that I was treated very well by the prison authorities,
many asked about my family, told me that I would soon be back home,
they often joked with me and enquired repeatedly whether I was having
any problems with the other prisoners.
I soon discovered the greatest scourge
of the prison, and the inmates’ most intimate companion, the body
louse, Pediculus humanus. The females lay up to 300 eggs
which take about a week to hatch, the nymphal stage of the body
louse is only 10 days and therefore it can multiply rapidly. Several
times a day one removes one’s shorts and shirt and examines the
seams for evidence of these parasitic creatures. They are virtually
impossible to find in one’s blankets though, so the problem is never
eradicated, one merely minimises it to an extent. The most afflicted
areas of the body are the shoulders, armpits, waist and inner thighs.
One of the prison guards later suggested that we rub Lifebuoy soap
onto our skin – this supposedly reduces one’s appeal to the lice!
Interestingly Jenny was at no stage allowed to bring us any ointments
to relieve the itchiness and discomfort caused by the lice. Neither
was I allowed to receive Sunblock. It appears that there is a long
list of prohibited items! I fell asleep fairly quickly, thanks to
an Imovane sleeping tablet, which had been spirited to me at the
court by Jenny, via Miss Moyo. The lights stay on all night, otherwise
inmates on their nocturnal visits to the latrine would constantly
trip over sleeping bodies.
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