Prison Journalism: My first two days in Pollsmoor Prison

Prison Journalism: My first two days in Pollsmoor PrisonLincoln Raker was incarcerated at Pollsmoor Correctional Centre from 2013 until 2016 and participated in the restorative justice programme while serving his time.

by Lincoln Raker

20-06-2023 11:59

in Prison Journalism

Prison cell

Photo: Pixabay.com

If I may take you back to the first time I entered prison, it felt like stepping into an entirely different world. I had no idea what to expect or what would be demanded of me. As I entered the prison, the air was filled with shouts from people asking, Who are you? Where are you from? Why are you here? When is your court date? In the reception area, some wardens had to search me.

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DAY 1 I had to strip naked and stand exposed until they completed their search. Afterward, I was sent to the holding cells where we had to line up and be counted. They assigned me a section name and handed me six slices of bread. Then, I proceeded to my room, where I had to repeat the process.

However, due to my stubborn nature, I was determined not to let anyone intimidate me. Upon entering the room, I started a fight with one of the inmates, unaware that he was one of the main figures in the prison hierarchy. Consequently, they beat me severely, leaving my face in a terrible state.

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When the guards learned of the assault, they wanted to relocate me to another cell, but I refused to go and insisted on staying. The next morning, we had to wake up early, and as a newcomer, it was my responsibility to clean the toilets and the room. However, I resisted and made it clear that I would not comply. They resorted to further violence, but I remained steadfast.

During the morning routine, when the cell was opened, we were instructed to stand outside while the guards counted the number of prisoners in the room. There were close to 200 inmates in the cramped space. After a few hours, we had to go for our meal, which consisted of a single bowl of soup and two pieces of bread. Initially, I refused to eat anything, hoping for better food.

However, I shared my portion with a boy who had entered with me, and we became friends. Since he had been in prison multiple times before, he guided me and provided insights on navigating life inside. After a few days, he was released, and I never saw him again. From that point on, I had to fend for myself and survive independently. Whenever the prison members had a meeting, I would seek refuge in the toilet until it concluded.

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DAY 2 As we stood in a row, uncertain of where to go, I witnessed pulling, killing, fighting, stabbing, and grabbing. The flow of blood painted a grim picture, revealing how humanity within the prison had been wasted. Each moment carried the weight of unpredictability, leaving us clueless about what to expect and who would be targeted next. The dismal quality of the food added to my sadness, and as I glanced back at the judge, I sensed his deep-seated animosity toward people like me. It made me feel as though I was sinking.

As time passed, I had to adapt, and unfortunately, getting involved in a gang was the worst decision I made for myself. Initially, it seemed easy, but as I climbed the ranks, I found myself with fewer options and more dangerous situations. We communicated using codes to outsmart the authorities. Some may claim it was difficult, but I found a strange enjoyment in doing whatever it took to stay alive.

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At night, I had to remain vigilant, sleeping with one eye open, constantly on guard. I found solace in numbers, as they provided some semblance of distraction. I engaged in almost every activity within the prison walls, except one-I refrained from smoking. Instead, I would sell any items that could be smoked for money, ensuring their safety.

In prison, planning for the future seemed futile, as the environment worked to brainwash individuals. Every day, you were surrounded by the same people and consumed the same monotonous food. It felt like being cornered by a pack of attacking dogs; constant vigilance was essential. Prison resembled a venomous snake, poised to strike, and every inmate seemed eager to engage in fights. Imagine being trapped in a state of uncertainty, unaware of what lies ahead, lacking control but refusing to give up.

DISCLAIMER: Submission published as received

RESTORE is a NGO based in Cape Town, South Africa providing inmates at Pollsmoor Prison with restorative justice opportunities.

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