The high perimeter walls and security lighting.
The shrill barbed wire.
The watchful ‘eyes’ of the surveillance cameras.
The bellicose x-ray body scanner.
The brawny and burly Correction Officers.
The obtuse security windows, sitting high with the scrimp incoming light broken into chunks by the solid iron bars.
Then the question comes bawling towards you as soon as you step into that little green door that ‘welcomes’ you into the search area that sits in the shadow of the big green gate;‘min gejt tara ‘he’?’
The awkwardness and uneasiness compress as you walk up to the area designated for the ‘vizti’.
The paradoxical benches that look like garden tables from afar are in fact yellow, cold and solidly fixed to the ground. It all hits you piquantly.
The chocolate wrappers scattered on the table tops are a weak attempt at providing some taste to this otherwise bland environment.
A heart-wrenching scene is the moment you see children meeting their dads, men and women meeting their partners and friends chatting with their inmate acquaintances. You have the odd grandmother, grandfather, mum and dad engaging with their nephews, nieces or siblings under the watchful and guarded eyes of the correctional officers.
And then, the faces of those visiting and those being visited as they must let go because time is up, in a place where time ticks slower than in any other place.
And the silence is raucous by the unassuming people waving their goodbyes.
Some of the inmates put on strong faces that depict hope, whilst others choose to take on the mannish macho attitude, whilst others put up a reassuring smile but some just don’t manage to hide the pain of having to return to their division and cell fearing they will never be visited again.
The garbage bag packed with dirty laundry all set to be passed on to the relatives as farewells are being exchanged.
As I returned to the security detail to get back my car keys, my mobile and my ID Card, I felt doleful and exceedingly miserable. The fresh air as soon as I walked out of this 17th Century building felt noxious and deleterious.
……..
Nothing excuses what these inmates have done. Nothing justifies the suffering they have forced on innocent people and families and the fear they inflicted.
I’ve visited quite a few individuals over these last years, mostly young people.
I’ve also been to the Prisons and met several administrations to discuss ways how the Faculty for Social Wellbeing can be of support.
Jail is an Institution that is faced with a colossal challenge, that of guaranteeing the balance between making life for the inmates bearable but at the same time ensuring the necessary security- because of course some of the people sitting in the cells behind that wall are hazardous. I also understand that most of the men and women serve a prison sentence which is rightfully imposed on them.
Notwithstanding;
I will keep fighting for Solitary Confinement to be completely expunged from the system whether it’s our Criminal Code or the prison regulations and the law that governs it.
I will keep struggling so that our Jail is truly rehabilitative.
I will keep pushing so that people are treated fairly and that any current or future cases of miscarriage of justice don’t happen.
I salute the good men and women in uniform who try their best in such a colossal and complex Institution to be good to the people they serve.
I salute the men and women who work there and are doing the right thing even when faced with pressures.
I salute the politicians who do not succumb to the lynching that society would like to see directed to the convicts.
………
The clanking and tolling door closed behind me.
I leave 800 or so men and women most of whom are guilty for wrong doings. Men and women who are also broken and taken apart and having to pay, I suppose, for the ailments they have brought on innocent people.
I wonder if we will ever put the educators, whether informal and non-formal, the family members and other members of the community on the dais that they might answer whether they are responsible for any of this.