Misery is like chocolate: take too much, and it will make you unhappy and might even shorten your life, but if you take it bit by bit, it contributes to your happiness and well-being. We all need a bit of everyday misery to enhance our metaphysical happiness, I like to say. But that’s also because I just like to use the word ‘metaphysical’. It makes one sound smart and philosophical, doesn’t it?
I really think it’s true though. People born in wealth and well-being, so people like me, cannot live without a small portion of seemingly big drama every now and then. We need something to complain about, something to cry about, and something to justify that we spend a whole evening sitting on a couch, watching really bad television and stuffing ourselves with chocolate (after which we not only feel miserable, but FAT ánd miserable).
For people like us, thinkers, poets and writers have come up with beautiful texts and expressions to give way to our troubles. ‘We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars’, Oscar Wilde wrote for example.
I saw some people who can justifiably claim to be in the proverbial gutter last Friday. Three ambassadors and a little lady (that would be me, and alright, there was another young woman from another embassy and someone from UNDP, and a representative of a local human rights group, MBDHP) got up early Friday morning in order to visit the prison in Koudougou, a town an hour’s drive away from Ouaga, heading west. The prison has recently been in the news when mutiny broke out and six prisoners were shot dead by the guards who tried to calm the crowd. Eight managed to escape, which was not too difficult considering an outer wall had collapsed some years ago and no one had ever bothered to rebuild it.
Before we could visit the prison, we first had to do our duty and visit the local gouverneur and the procureur. When we finally did arrive in the prison, I didn’t understand immediately that we had already entered. In my view, prisons are large buildings with thick walls and vigilant guards who check your bag before you enter. The prison of Koudougou is just some bare land. There are outer walls, although not too impressive, and the gate is always open. Bags are not checked upon entering the prison. The only security measure taken is that every visitor has to hand in his cell phone – for whatever reason. Drugs, firearms or knives are apparently less of a problem.
It took us ages to get permission to enter, especially since the ambassadors had decided they wanted to talk to the prisoners as well. This, the authorities thought, was not such a good idea. While the ambassadors talked to the authorities to obtain the permission to do so, I waited with the others under a simple roof under which the guards were seated. It took them a while to organise a bench for us to sit on, because they were too busy playing cards, and did not seem to notice anything going on around them.
The prisons harbours one compound for the three female prisoners, who seemed to live in tolerable conditions and one court was for the two minors. Although minors should not be locked up in a normal prison, they seemed to live reasonably well as well. However, the male adults were less ‘fortuned’. When we entered the court, they were all seated in the inner courtyard. They were with far too many to ever fit into the surrounding cells, it seemed. Cells made for twenty prisoners max are used by 33 prisoners at a time. There are no beds or other furniture, just mats to sleep on. A slight smell of urine hung in the air. A few prisoners were clearly mentally ill. At least one was visibly undernourished, or in a terminal stage of an illness like aids. The prison’s social worker told us that there were at least three cases of HIV/AIDS, and undernourishment was a problem often occurring. Besides that, there are the infections, caused by bad hygiene. Sometimes when people are arrested, they are not allowed to wash themselves for two whole weeks. In a sweaty country like this, that is obviously going to give skin infections.
We asked the prisoners some questions, like how many of them were still waiting to be judged (about one third) and what sort of complaints they had. They pointed out that they could not speak their mind in the presence of the guards, but told us anyway that circumstances were bad. ‘The food situation has improved now’, they said. Yes, because now, they get one meal a day. It used to be less.
For any of you in support of harsh conditions for prisoners: the return-to-crime rates for Koudougou prison are about 50%. Apparently, treating people like dogs is not the most effective way to diminish crime rates in a country.
For most people there, live is sad and miserable, and it always will be, even if they manage to get out of the prison (which is not too sure, because with some regularity, prisoners die).
I don’t believe we are all in the gutter, but even if we were, at least some of us are locked up in a cell which is so bloody crowded, that they cannot even see a glimpse of the stars.
I really think it’s true though. People born in wealth and well-being, so people like me, cannot live without a small portion of seemingly big drama every now and then. We need something to complain about, something to cry about, and something to justify that we spend a whole evening sitting on a couch, watching really bad television and stuffing ourselves with chocolate (after which we not only feel miserable, but FAT ánd miserable).
For people like us, thinkers, poets and writers have come up with beautiful texts and expressions to give way to our troubles. ‘We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars’, Oscar Wilde wrote for example.
I saw some people who can justifiably claim to be in the proverbial gutter last Friday. Three ambassadors and a little lady (that would be me, and alright, there was another young woman from another embassy and someone from UNDP, and a representative of a local human rights group, MBDHP) got up early Friday morning in order to visit the prison in Koudougou, a town an hour’s drive away from Ouaga, heading west. The prison has recently been in the news when mutiny broke out and six prisoners were shot dead by the guards who tried to calm the crowd. Eight managed to escape, which was not too difficult considering an outer wall had collapsed some years ago and no one had ever bothered to rebuild it.
Before we could visit the prison, we first had to do our duty and visit the local gouverneur and the procureur. When we finally did arrive in the prison, I didn’t understand immediately that we had already entered. In my view, prisons are large buildings with thick walls and vigilant guards who check your bag before you enter. The prison of Koudougou is just some bare land. There are outer walls, although not too impressive, and the gate is always open. Bags are not checked upon entering the prison. The only security measure taken is that every visitor has to hand in his cell phone – for whatever reason. Drugs, firearms or knives are apparently less of a problem.
It took us ages to get permission to enter, especially since the ambassadors had decided they wanted to talk to the prisoners as well. This, the authorities thought, was not such a good idea. While the ambassadors talked to the authorities to obtain the permission to do so, I waited with the others under a simple roof under which the guards were seated. It took them a while to organise a bench for us to sit on, because they were too busy playing cards, and did not seem to notice anything going on around them.
The prisons harbours one compound for the three female prisoners, who seemed to live in tolerable conditions and one court was for the two minors. Although minors should not be locked up in a normal prison, they seemed to live reasonably well as well. However, the male adults were less ‘fortuned’. When we entered the court, they were all seated in the inner courtyard. They were with far too many to ever fit into the surrounding cells, it seemed. Cells made for twenty prisoners max are used by 33 prisoners at a time. There are no beds or other furniture, just mats to sleep on. A slight smell of urine hung in the air. A few prisoners were clearly mentally ill. At least one was visibly undernourished, or in a terminal stage of an illness like aids. The prison’s social worker told us that there were at least three cases of HIV/AIDS, and undernourishment was a problem often occurring. Besides that, there are the infections, caused by bad hygiene. Sometimes when people are arrested, they are not allowed to wash themselves for two whole weeks. In a sweaty country like this, that is obviously going to give skin infections.
We asked the prisoners some questions, like how many of them were still waiting to be judged (about one third) and what sort of complaints they had. They pointed out that they could not speak their mind in the presence of the guards, but told us anyway that circumstances were bad. ‘The food situation has improved now’, they said. Yes, because now, they get one meal a day. It used to be less.
For any of you in support of harsh conditions for prisoners: the return-to-crime rates for Koudougou prison are about 50%. Apparently, treating people like dogs is not the most effective way to diminish crime rates in a country.
For most people there, live is sad and miserable, and it always will be, even if they manage to get out of the prison (which is not too sure, because with some regularity, prisoners die).
I don’t believe we are all in the gutter, but even if we were, at least some of us are locked up in a cell which is so bloody crowded, that they cannot even see a glimpse of the stars.
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