A Cry from the State Prison
The feeling of uncertainty and regret rocked waves within me at the sound of the Magistrate’s voice, sentencing me to a year and six months in prison for handling stolen goods. Though I found her judgement to be fair, the harsh reality of time away from freedom knocked on my door, but internal strength grew vital, as this was not my first offense, nor my first time in State Prison. Initially expecting a non-custodial sentence, financial arrangements had already been made to fund my mistake.
Unfortunately, efforts were futile due to previous offenses which had already tarnished my young record. “I should have gotten a lawyer” replayed like a broken cassette through my mind while officers escorted me to my holding cell and then to my new dwelling home at Stockfarm.My chance at an ordinary stay in the state’s confinement was altered by the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic when social distancing and quarantine measures were critical. Along with other inmates, I was placed in what I describe as ‘makeshift Quarantine’ for at least seven days following my negative COVID test results. My concern for sanitation grew into utmost disgust and distraught as my daily morning view consisted of an unkempt nose wrenching gutter running directly in the face of the Quarantine cell.
Debris and unsanitary water contamination acted as a breeding pool for mosquitoes, another pandemic waiting to happen. According to other inmates, this was considered the most “unsanitary part of the prison” and I concur. The possibility of endangering my health was confirmed following comments from the nurse charged with conducting our PCR tests that, ‘there not sanitary for you all, that’s not right.” Eventually, prioritizing my health and well-being, myself along with other inmates firmly demanded that the officers and other persons in authority sanitize the area.
Noticing their lackadaisical demeanor in addressing this, we collectively refused meals from the prison for three days consecutively as a form of protest. Due to fear of the worsening of underlying health conditions such as ulcers, the starvation pact came to an end when the third day was met with positive reaction. The area in question was finally cleared of debris and sanitized by authorities. Appreciation can be rendered for promoting resource preservation, but sanitization can at least be prioritized. I noted that the dilution process of cleaning supplies for personal environment sanitation is almost ineffective due to the immense amount of water mixed in the distributed containers for inmates. This practice opens opportunities for bacteria to grow as ventilation is so limited.When I finally allowed myself to consume anything, my hunger pains were met with fried small fish which is locally termed ‘balaw’, with rice and peas. This delicacy slightly sparked my interest since I entered the prison conscious about my diet, planning to refrain from poultry and red meat. Meal plans were consistent with rice and beans being most served, whether it be with pork, small fish or an occasional serving of chicken. On an extra significant Sunday, prisoners may be treated to a mac and cheese pie with lunch, but this rarely happened and would be contingent to the coordinator’s mood on that day. Meanwhile, breakfast and dinner welcomed some home-made bread served with very lightly flavored chocolate or bush tea. Smoked herring was occasionally served, glazed with obvious taste and smell of spoiled fish.
Memories of privileged eating habits in the civilian world brought about a feeling of grief. For a less traumatizing eating experience, it helps to not pay attention to the food handling process prior to consumption. One instance, I became perturbed by the absence of professional or even certified food handlers at the food stations and questioned the integrity of the authority as it relates to basic human principles. It was alarming to see that the group tasked with the responsibility of preparing and serving meals included popular vagrants or drug addicts who are obviously not familiar with practicing personal hygiene. Can you imagine A drug abusing vagrant cooking or even serving your meals? This includes the daily preparation of bread. That observation startled me given my experience as an inmate in a neighboring island’s prison, where screening and appropriate health standards were prioritized. But in my local predicament COVID-19 seemed to be the only Health related concern.
With no documentation, prisoners falsely claimed medical issues to escape kitchen chores. As much as the authorities claim food security through agriculture at the state prison, it amazes me that almost none of the produce from the prison grounds is utilized for meals. As a matter of fact, the farming does not appear to be done solely for the State prison, as many may have been led to believe. The necessary authorities should make it their duty to oversee the farming process and monitor the crops harvested. At the end of my quarantine period, I was placed in remand and my attention immediately fell on the size of the holding cells. I entered a cell which measured about 8ft long and 5 ft wide and proceeded to a triple bunk bed situated near a small face basin and toilet that were separated by a thin curtain drawing from the bed to the wall. The bottom bunk being the only space available, I prepared mentally for the discomfort and inconveniences ahead during my stay. Like an organic green house of vegetables, the lights remained bright through the hallway while we slept. Unlike the General population area of the state prison, remand prisoners most likely face the hardest times, with little to no yard time allowance. It consists of being strictly monitored and spending twenty-three (23) hours a day locked up, anticipating mealtime with a dish in hand just waiting for the food to get to your cells so you can stretch out your plate to be fed.
Stepping into ‘Population’ felt like a breath of fresh air literally, being allotted freer will. I was escorted to what looked like an 80ft container housing at least thirty inmates on ten triple bunks. Being a prisoner, it is paramount to be affiliated with as many resourceful persons possible, to be slightly comfortable. It is important to carry yourself in a confident and almost relentless demeanor. This will save inmates from bullying, unnecessary tension among peers and it automatically grants you respect. Health and wellness became more crucial as the days went by behind the prison walls as I stumbled upon the issuance of expired toiletries which contributed immensely to alteration to my health, specifically dental. At one point I suffered a tooth ache which wasn’t going away and it was odd to me as someone who practiced personal dental care regularly by brushing my teeth often enough. I realized that brushing my teeth seemed to worsen my situation and the pain was unbearable. One day I was informed of the opportunity to finally see a dentist, but my excitement was replaced with disappointment as I was denied my dental visit on that day for unforeseen reasons. The weekend was one of pain and restlessness, but I pushed through until the time presented itself once more. Eager for medical attention, officers had no choice but to run to my cell following the banging of the cell gates and shouting from frustration and exhaustion. When they finally arrived, I stood firm, holding on to my swollen jaw, “My Teeth!”. I was finally taken to my appointment. Upon my personal investigations, I realized that the toothpaste being distributed had expired a year prior, prompting me to believe that this was what held responsibility for my sick tooth. Further inspection proved that most if not all amenities distributed had already expired.
One of the most cherished aspects of freedom is access to various forms of entertainment. Lack of its elements is enough to persuade an inmate like me into maintaining a lawful life once released to the civil world. It becomes lonely behind the prison walls with nothing to listen to but the voices in your head and the rambling of criminals constantly arguing and fighting. Thankfully, inmates upholding good behavior often find a special comfort in being able to entertain themselves with something as little as a boom box, permitted by the prison of course.
It’s amazing the things we often take for granted. Prison is not meant to be a vacation stay but there is a responsibility to protect the well-being of persons in the states care regardless of the facility in which they are contained. The state prison gave me a different perspective on life and forced me to reflect on the privileges that I once overlooked but it also opened my eyes to the fact that prisoners are no longer considered human beings once they step foot on that ground. Two hour visits a week cannot compare to the liberty of facing a loved one every single day and contaminated food and expired toiletries cannot match the access to clean food prepared by clean hands served with love.
One year post my release date and I continue to think about the inmates left behind and the ones proceeding to join them. The competence and integrity of the authorities remain questionable, as many have already speculated about the absence of adequate funding for inmate maintenance. Lack of screening upon entry leaves space for unknown illnesses to develop, spread and become life threatening. Proper health access and clean food should not be considered a privilege at the prison as even a criminal is deserving of fair human treatment. Even at the court of justice, inmates reveal struggles with drug abuse at a facility which is guarded by the state. This speaks to the lack of advanced security and screening and sparks the continuation of crime even behind bars. This is not to be wrongly considered as an advocacy for leniency at a facility intended for crime punishment, but instead a loud cry for basic human principles for prisoners.
