WELCOME TO PRISON

Sitting in the Jailor’s office is always the worst part. The stains on the walls from mold, rust and neglect are the only things to distract you from the silence. No one seems to think this position will last long enough to decorate or personalize. [1] Just counting the days until the nameplate on their desk can join the pile of others in the corner; a pile too new to have even gathered dust before another is added. [2]

You’ll sit there in silence while they read your letter that was supposed to be your golden ticket, your fast-pass, the entry fee you already paid. [3] The truth of it is, however, that your fate ultimately lays in the Jailor’s hands. They’ll read your letter, ask some questions, stare at you a little, and maybe ask your translator if you’re a missionary if you’re a foreigner like me.

They’ll offer you tea. They always offer tea. But when they don’t, you’ll be surprised to feel such rejection; the ultimate Nepali powerplay.

You’ll be escorted to the entrance, or maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll just have to find it yourself. You’ll be handed a lanyard with your name from a guard near the gate, and you’ll ignorantly ponder whether it’s safe to have something around your neck as you duck through the tiny door you don’t yet know is the official entrance to the prison. Or maybe you won’t. Maybe they’ll just turn the key to the padlock on the gate and let you stumble through as you wonder if they’ll follow. [4]

Are you in? Is this it?

You’ll see picnic tables and courtyards with flowers, and hindu shrines with remnants from countless mornings of puja. People holding hands and linking arms. People. Maybe you’ll need a double take to realize one is an inmate and the other, a guard. They’ll be sitting side by side, gossiping, laughing, braiding one another’s hair. You’ll see a teacher and her student, both hunched over a textbook titled “Learning English in 45 Days”. The teacher, a woman convicted of accessory to murder, and the student, a guard more than 10 years younger. [5]

Maybe you’ll see five women sitting in a circle, knee to knee, on the rubble of the prison before the earthquake. They’ll be twisting cotton into candle wicks to make barely enough money for a cup of tea, as they take turns checking on the baby laying at their feet.

Is this too specific? No, you’ll see it. You’ll see it all, I’m sure.

You’ll see clothes out to dry, and they’ll make you think. They’ll be too many things. Too normal. Too colorful. Too… small? Too many.

You’ll probably see a baby or two or ten. You’ll smile at toddlers and twelve-year-olds, forgetting where you are. [6]

You’ll look up and see the sky. It looks the same in here. The balconies above and the road you took here and the playground you passed look the same too. Huh. I guess that’s weird. If you can see them out there, up there; then they can see you in here, down here too. No privacy.

Out there, up there isn’t really so different, you’ll think to yourself… but you’ll want to unthink the thought the second you think it.

You’ll blink hard and shake your head. You’ll leave.

Welcome to Prison: Work

[1] Indira Ranamagar, April 26, 2019.
The founder of PA Nepal tells us she’s seen the jailor and guard positions change as quickly as every 10 days. On average, she estimates each guard will last one month to a year, and each jailor will last up to a year. This has the effect of diminishing their urgency of accountability, perpetuating cycles of corruption, and results in extremely unqualified government officials. We met jailors with previous government postings in tourism, healthcare, and transportation sectors.
[2] The researchers observed such a pile at two out of the five jailor offices visited.
[3] The researchers didn’t pay any bribes to gain approval by the guards, jailors or Department of Prison Management, however we heard stories of corruption where foreigners were required to do so in order to attain such approval. The Executive Director of the Department of Prison Management himself made a crass joke about this very thing while we sat in his office waiting for his letter. He asked us “what did you give him?” referring to the jailor who had offered to mentor and assist us through the process of gaining approval. This comment indicates the deep level of corruption which closely ties personal gain and monetization to many government officials’ roles.
[4] These represent the two different types of prison entrances the researchers witnessed.
[5] The researchers witnessed three separate occasions of interactions between inmates and guards precisely as described during our visits to prisons. These interactions were always between Naikes and guards of the same gender, varying ages. The researchers note that despite the clear power dynamic at play, neither party appeared to feel uncomfortable with these interactions, but rather resembled close friends. The limited amount of time the researchers were permitted to conduct observational research in prisons however, was not sufficient to conclude on this matter.
[6] Rawal, Pratibha. "Women in Jail." South Asia Check. June 19, 2017. http://southasiacheck.org/in-public-interest/women-in-jail/.
It is stated that in 2017, over 97 innocent children are estimated to currently be living in prisons in Nepal.

Welcome to Prison: Text