Voices behind caged walls

South Asian prisons are notorious for their congestion. Factors that contribute to this are the slow legal process, hearings being adjourned and, in countless cases, the police taking too long over investigations. Ultimately, in some cases, the overcrowding could be a direct result of the breakdown of the country’s criminal justice system.

Now, in Nepal, there are prisons in all 75 districts except for Bhaktapur, Sunsari, Bara and Dhanusha. According to the prison authorities, in all the jails throughout Nepal, there are just over 6,700 prisoners inside a jail capacity of 7,200 plus. But this is a floating figure. Even if these figures do not suggest the problem of overcrowding, all the prisons in Nepal are outdated and antiquated. This is what the prison authorities themselves say as much. There needs to be a severe review of the existing conditions in Nepal’s prisons.

The state convicts those charged with criminal behaviour and locks them up. But prisons themselves are reflections of   outside society. The state’s responsibility is to recognise this and to act upon it. Individuals’ civil liberties and rights are not erased once he or she enters the prison environment. The outdated prison environment only adds to the gulf of indifference created by the state towards the condition of prisoners. They are not forgotten pieces of society but are sentient beings capable of reform.

And this is where such counseling measures and opportunities for reintegration should be taken up and practised. Attitudes taken by society and the state, towards prisons and prisoners must change. From this, ideally, can come a more holistic approach. You cannot just dismiss a person because he or she may have committed a crime. The point is to try and understand why, and what could be done to help that individual re-enter society. Such an approach, from child prisoners, to women , to men should become part of the prison’s make up.

Nepal is a signatory of the United Nations Rules for the Protection of Juveniles Deprived of their Liberty, which specifically highlights how child prisoners should be treated, and the UN Standard Minimum Rules for the Treatment of Prisoners, which does the same but for prisoners generally. Both resolutions specifically state that those in confinement must have regular access to recreational and educational opportunities which includes vocational training. And further, the rules on juveniles say that they should be in a physical environment with the aims of rehabilitation. It says further that they should have clean bedding, nutritious food and be able to associate with their peers and mix in leisure activities. If such guidelines are not put in use, then confinement becomes even more damaging to an individual’s mental make up and their ultimate return to society.

The authorities agree that such guidelines are rarely taken up by the state. Prison authorities insist that just the ratification of an international law is not enough. What is said in the law should be made into concrete policy.

So, the prisoners, once in prison, are forgotten. One major area of concern, to all different policy makers, is the treatment and condition of the dependent children of prisoners. The prison environment can be seriously damaging for them. 

A host of organisations have been extending support to the prisoners and the dependent children. But nearly all these organisations halt their programmes once their budgets run out or until they lose interest. But a handful continue working within this environment. One such organisation, Prisoners Assistance Mission (PAM), founded by the writer Parijat, is the only organisation that specifically rescues children from the prisons says Shyam Kazi Shrestha, Secretary of  PAM. They also fix their attention on women prisoners and their general welfare as they are especially vulnerable once they are released back into society.

“Both men and women may pick up criminal traits while they are in prison, since they are located in such an environment. So education and social interaction by outsiders is essential for their general well being,” says Indira Rana, a paid volunteer at PAM. “But, since women are more vulnerable to the negative response of society, they, like the children, are of prime concern to us. Therefore we concentrate our counseling on them.”

Because most of the women lack confidence and belief in themselves, they are taught to be self-reliant.

Till date PAM has rescued over 100 children. He further adds that 40 children are currently in the Nestling Home.

But Shyam Kazi Shrestha laments, “The government has been giving us moral support but not financial support. If they provided us with the money they save from the rescued children, then we would be in a position to accommodate more numbers of children in a sounder environment.”

Once a month, these children in the Nestling Home are taken to the jails to meet their parents. Family reunion is conducted twice a year for the dependents in the prison so that they can meet their grandparents or relations. They are even taken on a socialisaton tour which helps them to interact with the children at the Nestling Home. PAM also provides education, health facilities, adult literacy, skill training for the prisoners as well.

Joint secretary to The Home Ministry, Bijaya Bhattarai says “Though we can not keep track of all the NGOs, we cooperate with those who want to work for the welfare of prisoners. We even permit them to organise various programmes for the benefit of the prisoners.”  

But prison authorities, in reality, bemoan the lack of interest shown by the state towards the plight and condition of the prisons. They themselves admit that they are also, like the prisoners who they oversee, labeled as almost second class citizens. The concept of a prison remains a dirty word in Nepal. And it is clearly apparent that it is a less prioritised sector of the government’s agenda.

“500 ropanis of land has been purchased by the Government in Nuwakot for the purpose of constructing a modern prison but the land is being used for afforestration and the plan of constructing a prison seems nowhere in sight”, complains Assistant Jailer, Chuda Muni Sharma.

There are altogether three prisons in Kathmandu— The Central Jail and Bhadragole Jail are for male convicts and the Janana Jail holds only female inmates. Decay and general wear and tear are evident in all these prisons. The complex of buildings dates back at least 85 years. Chuda Mani Sharma points out that the government has done little to renovate even this existing structure.

At present there are 1156 prisoners in the capital’s jails which have a maximum capacity of 1500. Altogether, there are about 30 dependent children.

This ratio may not suggest that the prisons are congested, but the ratio is not the reality. Most inmates do not even have decent beds as some of them have only beddings roughly scattered on the floor. When there is an overflow of prisoners, bunk beds are crammed inside the cells one on top of the other. The mothers, with their dependent children live closely packed together, usually many to a room.

The total annual budget allocated by the government is Rs.10.5 million and it is just enough to cover the allowance for the prisoners but hardly enough for maintenance and for updated office equipment. The total budget for the library and office equipment is Rs1700 and Rs10000 respectively. There are libraries without books, and the office premises without a single computer.

The word prisoner evokes exclusion and difference. It suggests an end to participation in society. But by its very nature prisons exist because of  society or the accepted rules and conducts that go into making a society. There are some prisoners who have landed there having committed crimes unintentionally, crimes which the society they live in forced them to commit. And in the eyes of the law, because the law is a limiting thing, they are guilty.

Domestic violence and physical and mental abuse of women by their alcoholic husbands is nothing new in Nepal. Kali Maya Waiba is a classic example of such victimised women who hit her drunken husband with a stick in a fit of anger. Her husband lost his life and Kali Maya was incarcerated for murder. She has been in the Janana jail for the past five years but has become mentally unsound. She says, “It feels good to be in the prison but I want to go home.”

Durga Naikoti says that she was convicted for murder but should have been released the previous month but the lawyer has not come to visit her.”Though he has the prison’s permission, I’ve heard that he has not registered in the court”, she mourns. Naikoti is not at all happy with the conditions in the prison, apart from this, she says that there are dadas among the women-folk who terrorise them.

There are many like Naikoti and Kali Maya who haunt the decaying structures of Kathmandu’s prisons. And the children who surround them, when we stood there in the courtyard of the Women’s Cell under a striking blue sky, still ran and smiled and showed their curiosity just like the children outside the prison walls.

And for a moment, it did not seem too bad. But then we could step outside, anytime.

When memory comes through

By Kedar Bantawa

“The reason why I like to visit Nepal is, they say your country is one of the most beautiful in the whole world.”-

Patricia asked me from Denmark via e-mail.

The question was not difficult to answer but was certainly worth pondering. I heartily sent back a reply - “You’re   welcome to visit this heavenly country! Would you really come to Nepal?”, I asked her without any hesitation, as she was my longtime internet friend from Copenhagen.

“I hear Kathmandu is the city of temples, but I have no intention of staying there, instead, you could arrange a small lodge for me in the rural environment of Dhulikhel. I want to enjoy the melodious singing of the birds.”

Finally, after long e-mail exchanges between us, she decided to come for her own reasons, that too a straight drive to Dhulikhel from Tribhuvan International Airport and from there straight back to her home in Denmark.

Why didn’t she want to stay in Kathmandu, even when I had praised the city?   I had no answer to that question. I had no knowledge of whom to ask all this.

She arrived in Kathmandu from Copenhagen via Vienna. I was waiting for her at the arrival lounge of the Airport with a bouquet of flowers in my hand to welcome her. In fact, what I felt when she set foot in Kathmandu was as if some angel had come down to earth in front of me.

Patricia was dreaming of losing herself in the enchanting scenery of Dhulikhel and was getting impatient, on that day of Nov 23, 1998.

On the way she told me, “how rich you people are, a country of natural abundance, today, I think I am lost somewhere, and my eyes are spell bound with the terraces of the paddyfield.”

We didn’t notice how time had flown by while we were talking about our respective countries, Denmark and Nepal. We were startled to suddenly realise that we had reached the lodge. She received a nice welcome there. From there, she would go on a trek. The next day, I told her, while introducing her to our trekking guide, Tsering Tenzing - “Patricia, this is your Nepali friend who will for the next fifteen days,enchant us while we go uphill or descend down hill by embracing the hills and slopes, the falls and streams and while traversing villages and valleys.”

And then Patricia’s trek began!

“How long have you been in this profession of a guide?”

Tsering Tenzing replies - “just nine years.”

Chatting thus, they reach a small village, where Tsering Tenzing was born. A place adorned with cypress trees, where our cook, Laxman Rai, was preparing lunch at our third camp. Tsering Tenzing was busy explaining the surrouundings to Patricia. Occasionally, she replies, “yes, Chharka-la pass was so steep, it nearly touched my nose.Trekking is so exciting!”

Man is a romantic and sentimental animal. Even rocks melt someday. How could Tsering know that slowly he was being loved by Patricia. Had she come here only to be under the spell of love? In their twenties, it was but natural for them to live out their time together by sharing their feelings.

The value of life is perceived when the journey in solitude remains an example for ever. And the oath taken near Phoksondo lake tells us that man’s identity is not defined by the colour of our skin but by the same blood that beats in all of us. The blood that beats to the same rhythm. The colour of her skin caught Tsering’s eye but it was hearing her blood beat by the high lake which brought him to his knees. It was natural for me to recall some past moments when Patricia told me of her affairs, good or bad.

I had sensed the success of their trekking trip at Arughat, in Gorkha. As I was more concerned about whether they took the right route, or whether or not he took her to the Himalayan peak, I did not pry into other, personal matters.

Meanwhile, after three weeks, suddenly it was the last day in Nepal for Patricia. So, her face had looked sad for the past few days. For she was preparing herself for the return home, alone, after visiting Nepal. How could she leave forgetting the affection of Tsering Tenzing and the love of simple and honest villagers? Patricia sank into herself.

In the end, we see Patricia uttering some last words of farewell as she is being embraced by Tenzing at the departure lounge of the airport. “I will come back again soon!” Patricia again spoke wiping her tears with the Khada (a symbol of good luck and respect for Buddhists), which was presented to her by Tenzing as a farewell gift, while looking directly into his eyes.

“Please scribble words of love to me when memory comes through. I will never forget you and the goodwill and love you have shown me and for my entire group. Rather I will come back next year, to live together in your beautiful village for the rest of our lives and for eternity, bringing with me many friends.”

She waved her hand from the immigration office when it was time to board the plane. It disappeared in the vast cloud quickly.

All these scenes were filmed by my eyes, especially when she had fallen in love with both Nepal and Tsering Tenzing . As I remember all this, I feel that time has not flown by, but it is already the 21st century.

She had wished to share her heart with Tsering. After a lapse of time, the heart beats recently came with the millennium...

That was-

“..one small village, a cross-road near the pine forest,

that lonely road, at the bottom of the heart.

Where there is worship and service

hidden there, the love between villages and

travellers.

Think me not as a foreigner, the heart is the same

in that village of love, the belles have stories to

tell...”

Diary of an Alter-native

Kathmandu has seen the rise of forced prostitution and paedophilia which the police have barely lifted a finger against, meanwhile young men and women have been arrested for just being Nepali in a bar or club late at night. An eye-witness account follows...

In a bar in Thamel: the music is loud, the place is packed and I’m dancing with this white man. Am I breaking the rules, I wonder. I don’t know, but I have been working a full six day week in an office job where all the men, from the boy who brings us tea to the big man in the light grey suit look at me all day in a way which I do not feel comfortable. This man is looking at me in that way. He’s just dancing and he happens to be dancing with me.

Two young Thamel cowboys, they could be Newar, Manangi, I don’t know, they are hassling a girl, just like me, by the wall. She says something harsh to them and goes to sit down, next to her man I presume, who is also Nepali like her. They seem in love. They seem a little wealthier than me, but they are having fun like me. We are young, we work all day, we have discovered a place to dance and forget...

The cowboys come up to me and say “why do you dance with him?” I deny that I am dancing with anyone. They insist that I dance with them. I back off and they get angry. They are strangers, but they are brothers too, are they not? So why do they get angry at us? I don’t understand and walk away, a little saddened.

As I go to sit down, a fellow brother turns to me and aggressively announces “you have to leave now! The police are here!”

It all happens so suddenly, I can hardly grasp what is going on. A man in uniform comes rushing in and grabs any Nepali he sees and shouts “get out!” All of a sudden, I am caught in a whirlwind. The white man I am dancing with doesn’t even notice what is going on at first. We are all pushed and prodded and ordered to leave. I grab my belongings and shout to my friends that we have to go. They panic and run out; I go after them. Three brothers who came to this place with us stay behind, not fully aware, the music still blasting, they sit at the back, hidden from view. As I turn around I see the man I was dancing with, looking at me across the crowded room; he looks frightened. I won’t ever see him again, I know it.

I arrive at a scene outside the bar. The policman is small but his strength was huge when he pulled me earlier on. He is in a rage. He is pressing the tip of his forefinger into my sister’s fiance’s chest saying “yes, you are a foreigner, you can go! But you, girl, you are Nepali, you come here!” My sister is terrified and says “no, please, listen...” but her words are lost. What is she trying to explain when there is nothing to explain? We were just in a bar, we haven’t done anything.

I pace forward, trying to be as calm as possible. Almost touching the man’s shoulder, I say quietly, “Please leave them, they are married...”, a white lie in an attempt to save the situation. He turns to me very slowly and I can see his eyes are burning, burning so hard that I realize, I am dead now, I am dead.

He grabs my shoulder and he slips. He grabs my arm instead and drags me towards the parked blue van. I plead with him and try to shrug him off. His fist is raised and he screams, “if you don’t shut up now, I will smash your face in!”

At that instant there is silence in my head. I feel suddenly at peace with the world as I look at it. I understand it fully. The world is a confused place, and it is full of cruelty that surpasses any comprehension. I see the faces of my friends, my sister, her husband-to-be, all looking at me in terror; I see the man, his burning eyes, his pitiful pain inside, and I am ready to collapse in front of it all. Ready to surrender.

“Don’t touch them! Don’t harm them!” shouts a voice from behind. It’s the brother that runs the bar. I’ve seen him around, he’s a cowboy, he’s not a good friend, he’s just another brother who’s always there, but tonight he has something to say.

The policeman looks up, pauses for an instant and then lets me go and leaves me in a heap, in a state of semi-consciousness. He stomps towards the brother and forces a pair of raised fists into his chest. The brother is flung backwards but he’s still standing.

My sister screams “run! Just run! We have to get out of here! Now!” But I know there are people still in the bar, there are some brothers I know still left...and there is this one here...

We start to run. I look around as I turn the corner and I see the policeman face to face with the cowboy who tried to protect us. There is going to be blood tonight, I thought, as I made the corner.

Half an hour later, something has brought me back to Thamel, this den of thieves and playground for tourists. The brothers we left behind in the bar could be in jail tonight, so two of us have come to find out what has happened. Yes, we’re foolish, but we have a responsibility that won’t leave us, and we won’t leave it. We hide behind the seats of a night taxi and travel slowly through the dim lit streets that are now empty. We notice a group of three tourists from the bar and wind the taxi window down to ask some questions. The conversation goes as follows:

“Excuse me, were you at the bar tonight?”

“Yes, it got closed and everyone was told to leave. There was no fight, just a police raid.”

“Yes, we know. We wondered if you saw any of the young Nepali men sitting at the back. They were with us and we wondered if you saw them being taken away.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t recall any of them in particular but 8 or 9 people got arrested tonight.”

“They are our brothers. One was wearing a black cap...”

“We don’t know, I’m sorry...all we know is that they were all Nepalis.”

The Taxi and us inside. It’s cold and all’s tiring and all’s forgotten as the tourists make their way towards the guest houses, retiring after the night’s adventures. We are shivering and the driver doesn’t say a word, though he knows what’s going on, he’s seen it all before. A bright light suddenly beams from the alley ahead. We don’t think to hide this time, we just silently watch. The blue van drives past us like a great big shark, swimming through the quiet waters after a big catch. We turn our heads around to see it go. “There’s someone with a black cap on inside” whispers my companion.

 (From Earshot )

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