By Markson Omagor
(Writer)
Thinking of pushing jail term as it is called here, I remembered Meddie Ssentongo. That Friday morning, determined to call my wives, I moved out to look for R.P telephone calls in order fix an appointment with the Welfare Officer. While awaiting our turn to be taken to welfare office for purposes of making calls, a one fairly young man, brown with a stylish haircut, obviously on slippers but wearing a trendy shirt and trousers seemed to raise interest.
I heard whispers, then murmurs, then whispers again as he approached us; “yoyo, oyo Meddie.” Various voices said in low tones.
The R.P calls advised him to get uniform if he wanted to be taken to make calls. While he was away on this purpose, I inquired of his identity.
“….. That is Bad Black’s boyfriend. The reason why the Mzungu is hard on Bad Black. He was brought yesterday on a police 999 pickup ….” And so on went the lashed explanations. I later gathered that he had been enjoined onto Bad Black’s file as a co-accused and immediately remanded by Sarah Langa- the same Sarah! I shuddered.
Monday, came the day I should have been celebrating Sarah’s graduation, my fiancée.
Here I was, in a wretched of earth place, a living tomb you may say! I felt utterly bad, home sick, recalled my lovely children and just as a tear rolled down my cheek, I begged God to take good care of them.
I got out of my bed earlier than ever before, emptied my bowels and brushed. I retreated back to my bed to await morning “Fall In” praying peace to be my companion. It seemed to obey save for the nuisance caused by marauding mosquitoes that got me pissed off.
That morning after labour parade, I reported for duty at my station and luckily enough there were some uniforms for printing. There were uniforms for the teachers, Mulago Hospital referrals, Mole Party and Cleaners. This thankfully kept me busy till 3.00pm when I went back for lunch.
Tuesday morning was just like any other. The morning was foggy, covered by hanging Nimbus Clouds. It was chilly as well. As usual we reported for labour parade and there was nothing unusual there. We then reported for work. Our prison officer did not turn up early so i went back to my ward for porridge breakfast carrying a pair of uniform that had just been donated to me by Mr. Masaba our inmate head of printing.
Just as I was approaching our ward, there stood Katikiro laughing at me. I did not understand, so I asked him what was funny about me. He wanted to find out what I was carrying. I told him it was my uniform and he replied that I was indeed going back there. I didn’t click.
“….your name is amongst those to be shifted to Block D…”
“…what?” I asked dumbfounded.
“….all inmates leaving this year are required to go to Block D…”
I finally understood the situation. The problems were, I had to start from scratch, a new chef had to be identified, new acquaintances were to be met and Block D was notorious for mosquitoes because it was the last Block overlooking Lake Victoria. There is a big swamp separating the Block from the Victoria waters, so you can see why it was notorious for mosquitoes.
My mind raced, options were weighed and yet solutions weren’t forth coming. Shortly afterwards, Sergeant Boma came into our ward in a convoy of five R.P commanders and with him was the dreaded list. He told us that Block C was to be converted into remand Block. In that way, we were to be slowly and surely shifted to Block D. To start with those left with less than a year of their sentences. I fell in this category and knew my fate was sealed. Then he started reading.
“…..name….”
“Walusimbi Juma” he roared on.
“…… yes Afande…..” Radio had come back for porridge so he was in the ward.
“….Eeh. I know you. You are the one? You are finished,” he teased.
“Omagor Dick Mark.” Afande I replied.
“…Aah ha. You are finished.” He taunted and on he continued.
Amongst the accompanying R.Ps was the R.P Labour, a friend of mine of sorts. I quickly signaled to him to speak and plead on my behalf. He did and Radio together with me went out of the ward and ambushed the sergeant. He promised to let us stay and indeed this came to pass.
That evening, after what appeared to be a successful coup, a list of seven inmates was brought to our ward leader. We did not know whom they were, nor did we anticipate the designs of prisons authorities.
Towards evening lockup, the seven inmates were ushered into ward C8 and our ward. They were all the same; carrying similar characteristics. They were old, old in the sense that they were pensioners and were invalids in one way or the other. Oh! Our triumph quickly started to look like a smoke screen.
It did not take long before one of our new friends went to our waterless, flush less, top seated single toilet for a long call without water! R.P ward swung into action sorting out a mess he was not accustomed to.
After super variously eaten between 6-7.00pm, another of the seven, an old man with one foot cut off at the ankles ambled into the same toilet and soiled the seat! He was discovered by one of the ward mates who nearly knocked down the invalid save for the timely intervention of the R.P. Disgust seeped in, regret is what I felt and self-pity and self-betrayal.
The following day, comrades who had willed and moved to Block D came telling us how the other Block was by far better than Block C. they had water, better access to Lake Victoria breeze, better toilets and bathrooms. My pity intensified. As if that was not enough, that evening more three invalids were introduced; one of them, a head balded by wounds and it had turned yellowish! I made up my mind.
The following morning, I met Afande sergeant Boma and told him, I had changed my mind and to Block D, I desired to move. With a knowing laugh, he directed me to quickly carry my things to Ward D3. There he led me and placed me in the High Command of the ward. (We had become friends, so he was willing to see the best for me). I cross checked with the toilets and indeed there was running water. There were two squat like toilets in fair working conditions and a bathroom with a floor much better than, I had seen before. What a difference!
That night before falling asleep, I thought about my family and felt great pain. I humbled myself and said a prayer to the Almighty. I asked him to give my wives patience, peace and wisdom to withstand the challenges associated with my incarceration, I also implored of God to take care of my children’s health and peace of mind. I then slept noisily well.
