I was first assigned to the women’s prison in Kaga-Bandoro, a renovated former warehouse. This is where I began my career as a prison director, from 2010 to 2013. I was responsible for the prisoners and their security, as well as organising external and internal communication and administrative and financial management. The prison held 10 defendants and 12 serving their sentence.

During my time there, a vegetable garden was opened, and the prisoners were taught to sew. We were able to fall back on agriculture to compensate for poor funding, ensuring that prisoners were fed. In the vegetable garden located behind the prison, they worked the land and planted vegetables (okra, gourds, courgettes) on areas that were 10m long and 1m wide. They cut wood to reinforce the fencing and to avoid wild animals getting in. With the support of an agricultural engineer, we were able to plant sweet amaranth (Gboudou in the local Sango language), a plant that the prisoners like a lot because it is easy to cook. Families bring meals to their imprisoned loved ones, but inmates prefer to cook their own meals themselves.

Due to construction work being carried on one of the wings, the women’s prison had to accommodate men for 6 months. This brought the number of prisoners at the facility to 50 people. This was a difficult situation to manage, especially as some of the men were considered dangerous. The prison opened at 5:30am every day. As the doors were opened, I was present, next to the wardens, to take the register in order to ensure that no one had escaped during the night.

Tasks were then divided up between the prisoners: some swept the offices, others pumped drinkable water thanks to the hydraulic pumps located 500m outside the prison, while others went to find wood to cook meals.

The prison did not have electricity. We were able to obtain donated hurricane lanterns from the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC). I regularly bought between 5 and 10 litres of petrol to power the lamps. I did not have a computer to write my reports. I went to the United Nations’ Office of the High Commissioner premises in order to write them.

Relationships with the prisoners are not always easy, but you have to know how to motivate them while maintaining authority.We created the charitable organisation “Ma Ouango” which means “listen to advice”. Its objective is to obtain funding or in-kind support from agencies or international humanitarian organisations like the United Nations World Food Programme (WFP).

After their release, some prisoners come back regularly to say hello to express their gratitude. For some, the prison sentence was a way to start afresh.

In the Central African Republic, prison conditions are very difficult. I have to take on several roles.

In terms of security, we handle incarceration without weapons. In terms of healthcare in the Kaga-Bandoro prison, there isn’t a nurse or a social service. I handled first aid, using the knowledge I had learnt during my training.

I remember one day, during the dry season, I found a 65-year-old prisoner lifeless in her cell. No one wanted to touch her. I cooled her down with water. I gave her a piece of sugar to revive her. She was still breathing but could not speak. We had neither a car nor an ambulance. We put her in a rickshaw that I pulled myself for 2km until we got to the health centre. Once we arrived, she was taken care of. I personally paid for the prescription given by the doctor because the prisoner didn’t have any close relatives.

As for legal proceedings, hearings are not frequent. All the lawyers are in Bangui. I frequently have to go see the president of the court and the court clerk to explain how distressed the prisoners are, waiting indefinitely for their hearing to be organised. They don’t have the means to pay for a lawyer. Duty lawyers demand that the court reimburses transport fees from the capital to Kaga-Bandoro. They eventually give up and are not motivated to come and defend the prisoners.

In December, rebels from the Séléka lay siege to the town of Kaga-Bangoro. They destroyed the prison when they arrived. All the public authorities had already left. I didn’t follow them as I was waiting for the prisoners to come back from harvesting. When the town was taken over, they all took refuge in my home. We then accommodated them in neighbouring houses. One of them admitted to being an informer for the rebels and turned me in.

I left my two 2-year-old children in the hands of strangers. I dressed as a farm worker so as not to be recognised at the rebel control posts. I was eventually able to get to the base of the Force multinationale de l’Afrique centrale [FOMAC] (the Central African Multinational Force). The ICRC took over. Faced with the deteriorating situation, prisoners were advised to save themselves and leave the town. In a convoy secured by the African forces, I was able to leave the town with my children for Bangui. I was assigned to a women’s prison in 2013 in Bimbo, in the south of the country. I was then assigned to Bozoum in the north.

The prison environment is special. You have to self-sacrifice in many situations. In the Central African Republic, there has been small progress despite the unstable security situation. Many prison renovation projects have been started but haven’t come to much. I am proud of what I have contributed, at my level, as a link in the prison administration.