THE PRISON CELL I shared a cell with about 35 to 40 other prisoners, it was packed beyond its capacity, overcrowded as is the case with prisons here. The only furniture in the cell were our thin sleeping mats and blankets, separated with only about 30-centimetre space between each of them. The windows in the cells were so high up, prisoners could only see the outside of the cell by climbing onto a support, for example several blankets piled up.

In Swaziland, untried prisoners are kept under lock 24 hours a day. We did not have the luxury of going out like the convicted prisoners. It was extremely mentally challenging to be locked up all day.

I saw fellow prisoners’ mental health deteriorate whilst awaiting their trials. I remember the sweet melody of the songs we used to sing in my cell’s choir. The choir kept us going, our bellowing voices would touch both prisoners and staff.

Prison is no child’s play. It can make or break the spirit of the prisoner. The longest days are spent between four walls. The concept of time is lost when one is locked up. One day feels like many days, one year feels like forever. We had to wake up at 5 am and go to sleep at 10 pm.

I was always one of the first to use the bathroom so that I could have a warm shower; a luxury that only early birds could enjoy since warm water always ran out after a couple of minutes. There were only two open showers and two toilets in the cells. Every morning, just before 6 am, one of us would read the scripture (Bible) aloud to begin our day. Afterwards, those who wanted to pray were free to do so after the Bible session. The reading of the Bible and prayers were quite fundamental to keeping many prisoners going. Without services of psychologists, prayer became the only source of hope.

Officially, the day began at 7 am with a morning round of counting by the prison officers, who must find everyone looking neat, the cell tidy, and our mats neatly made. This was extremely difficult in the cold Mbabane winters. In those concrete cells with no heating system, it was cold to the nth degree. You would find yourself at the verge of crying due to the very cold condition, only the fear of being embarrassed for shedding tears in public could hold you back. After the counting, we would get our breakfast which was thin maize porridge for four times a week and bread with black tea three times a week. All meals were served just in front of the cells by convicted prisoners. We would take our food and quickly went into the cells to eat.

There were three daily rounds of counting; the second one was around 10:30 am and the third one, after which the prison officers locked the doors, was at 4 pm.

The humiliating part about the counting was that we were forced to squat in rows of five. The closing of prison cell always made me feel like I was doomed to spend the rest of my life in there.

After the cell is closed, I would do some exercises in the small space where the washroom is located, alongside some of my fellow prisoners. Though we were not allowed to do exercises according to prison rules, I had to defy that rule for my own good.

Some mornings were disrupted by random searches. This experience was humiliating, lots of verbal and sometimes physical assaults. I saw prison officers severely assault and humiliate fellow prisoners during night searches. They took the unlucky ones to the isolation cells, where they were beaten and exposed to further degrading treatment.

My visitation rights were limited as a political prisoner. I was coerced to register only three names of people who would visit me. At some point, this right was even curtailed as the prison authorities suddenly denied me of visitations for months. I was completely oblivious about the curtailment of my visitation rights, up until my lawyer eventually informed me. After what seemed like a battle with the prison authorities, the ban was lifted, however, the list of visitors was maintained as three.

Untried prisoners enjoyed the privilege of receiving visitors any day of the week between 9 am to 3 pm, but only for five minutes, it felt so brief.

I represented prisoners in trying to change this inhumane visit time frame, but we didn’t win the fight. During visits, we were not even allowed to touch our visitors; we were separated by a thick fence and remained under the watchful eyes of two guards, with one of them recording the conversation in a book. In as much as it was important to receive visitors while in prison, the whole setup made the experience awful.

Finally, when the judge acquitted and discharged me, I was elated. I shall always cherish the day I was released from prison. Those emotions and feelings are still fresh in my memory. I do not think they will ever fade away. I was freed from perpetual pain and humiliation. Prison failed to break me, but those terrible conditions prisoners are made live under continue to break and harden others who might find it difficult to integrate into society after being released from prison.