Correctional Centre 2

25 April 2007

I went to prison today. Correctional Centre 2 (CC2) is situated south of Phnom Penh, in the middle of nowhere – a moonscape of parchment-yellow shrivelled rice fields and cracked dirt, dotted with scraggly palm trees. The road to the prison may as well be part of it, the isolation is like a cage. How hard it must be for families to visit their children there. Even if they can organise the money for transport (often assisted by a NGO/legal aid organisation), when they get to the gates, they also need to negotiate with the guards a “visitation fee”. A recent report by a local NGO, Licadho, on conditions in detention found that the guards are very innovative and efficient – they have developed an elaborate system of bribes: $3.75 for a non contact visit; $10 for a contact visit; for some families that is several months wages

We, however, go in the UNICEF Child Friendly Justice Bus so the guards just waved us through, waiving the fee. The Justice Bus turns off the main road when we see the bright red shrines on the side, clothed in little strips of white tape flapping in the breeze, prayers for the dead. The guard pulls the gate open and we drive under the sign welcoming us to Correctional Centre 2. We are then greeted by some out buildings and another log sign in a garden proclaiming again “Welcome to CC2”. The word “summer camp” springs into my mind.

We arrive just after lunch so I expect the kids to be well fed and happy, in the siesta zone. Prisoners in Cambodia get less than 38 cents worth of food a day (less than the poverty line). If their families wish to supplement the diet then they need to pay a “supplement-my-kid’s-diet fee”. They also need to pay for the coal to cook it with, and the “special” bowl needed to eat it with. In a way, this is similar to back home where you have to pay a take away levy for the cost of the take away container. The only difference is that the kids at CC2 are eating in.

In any event, it is heartening to see that Cambodia’s guards have such entrepreneurial talent and are leading by example. It is such good vocational training for the prisoner’s rehabilitation, equipping them with business skills. Rest assured that the future of the country is in good hands!

The Head of the prison is away so we meet the Deputy Head instead. Our party consists of Susan (fellow Sydney based AYAD and UNICEF social worker), Khong Chang (Ministry of Social Affairs - MOSVY) and his partner with the big glasses and constant buck toothy smile from the Department of Youth Rehabilitation. (Egad! I forget his name but he knows mine!) I’m doing a quasi-monitoring field visit of MOSVY activities in CC2, but we are principally accompanying Prison Fellowship to see their work in prisons.

Prison Fellowship is a Christian NGO founded in the US by a guy called Chuck, who was involved in Watergate, did time, became a Christian and then, upon release, worked on providing more services for prisoners. Now there are autonomous, affiliated groups in countries all over the world, including Australia. In Cambodia, Prison Fellowship is one of the leaders in social services to prisoners, both in prisons and post release. We started our journey today at Blue Gate House, a Prison Fellowship drop in centre/half way house providing counselling, welfare assistance, transport, family tracing, motor mechanics courses and apprenticeships, other vocational training, medical assistance etc etc.

I had previously met their country director Linda Chisholm both at a national juvenile justice workshop and also at the Sunday morning international Christian fellowship service. An Aussie, she has been around in Cambodia for years but does fundraising trips in Oz. She’s on one of those when we get in touch with Prison Fellowship, so instead we see Adam and his wife Colleen – a young Kiwi couple. I can’t explain it but somehow Adam has a wholesome, white evangelical Christian look and feel to him. It is different from the old softly spoken Catholic priest look or the crazy Catholic nun look. I notice some guardedness within myself because of the “evangelical Christian” label, but am instantly ashamed at my stereotyping as we speak more with Adam and get to know him and his mob.

He is very down to earth. He even notices himself and acknowledges that some people have apprehensions (even aversions) to faith based groups. He frankly tells us that Prison Fellowship does do bible study in prisons but also does a heap of other stuff. They do not appear to proselytize. He has learnt Khmer. He has very professional and reasonable social work skills. Even though they have worked in prisons for years and then have small groups come in, duplicate their work only for a few months and without consultation, then leave, they still nevertheless try to work and cooperate graciously. Though they have worked with a client for hours only to have the kid snatched by another group then dumped back on them, they continue their work with a gentle spirit. There is no anger or bitterness. I get a sense of a very client based best-interests-of-the-child ethos.

UNICEF is working with the Ministry of Social Affairs to get government social workers into prisons. Thus, we have a lot to learn from Prison Fellowship. In May, we will set up national meetings with all prison stakeholders to begin eliminating of duplication, start networking and skill sharing…

Anyway, back to the prison: after a chat with the Deputy, we all accompanying Adam and Vuthy (an articulate PF Khmer social worker) into the prison. AusAid has built sheds to the side of the main buildings, where vocational training/counselling sessions can occur. I see banks of sewing machines, hair cutting chairs, a group session for boys and a session for the women inmates (and some girls).

Vuthy leads the boys in a “Who am I?” self esteem course. They form a circle and pass a ball around, introducing themselves whenever they catch the ball, laughing. Later, they lie on butcher’s paper, tracing their outlines with markers. The girls and women are having a chat. The sun beats down; we stand to the side, watching in the shade. I probe Adam, Khong Chang and the Deputy with questions about the prisons and programs. The haircutting has been a great cost efficient vocational training. Several children, upon release, get about five or six customers a day. At 50 cents each, that is enough to get by for a while. On the other hand, the sewing machines, donated by Aussies, unfortunately sit dormant in a cage; there is no material to sew with. In fact, the machines themselves look like prisoners, covered in dusty prison greens.

We ask if we can see where the prisoner’s sleep and the Deputy is happy to oblige. So, we are led into the main prison complex, behind the high walls and towers wreathed in coils of razor wire. Security is not tight – at least no one searches us or our bags. I suppose it’s because we are accompanying the Deputy. In some of the other prisons in the country we would be a bit more cautious; Susan took her radio to Battambang prison. Two years ago some prisoners on riot got cut to pieces by the guard’s AK47s. Shoot first (a lot), don’t ask questions later.

Lazing by the gates to the CC2 courtyard is a butchy matron in a short sleeved grey uniform, patches on her shoulders with the insignia of Ministry of Interior (Prisons) – two crossed leg irons. (Mental note: I’ll have to try get one of those as a souvenir - anyone can go to the local tailors on Sihanouk Boulevard or at the Russian Market, pick your patches and material and get any uniform made.) Matron’s face is a mask of makeup, bright red lipstick and eyeshadow. Fingers sport chunky gold rings. The headpiece holding her bun is dazzling, shiny ice. She wields a long rattan cane which she strokes and plays with, as she barks like a Canterburry mascot. I don’t know whether to laugh or be scared.

As we enter the prison quad, pass Matron Bling Bling, we see her clutch of chickens - mothers squat or sit in the dirt with their young 2-4 year olds running around. Asides from housing children in conflict with the law (CICL), CC2 also accommodates women inmates. For those who are mums, CC2 is also home to their infants. For some of these kids, these walls, wire and Matron with her cane have been their whole existence. They are not like kids I have met on the streets, in the provinces or orphanages. I smile at some of them but there is no return smile or excitement in their eyes upon seeing a barang (foreigner). There is indifference…

The courtyard is broken into two or three sections with fences and more razor wire. They tried to separate the women from the children but then the children’s section got too overcrowded so they just opened up the sections. The wire, however, remains so the kids can still feel caged within a cage.

A volleyball match is going on. Some of the boys have their shirts off. Most are in their blue prison uniforms. Those not within the game, laze around in the stifling heat. Arms are hanging out of the barred doors of the communal cells. I wonder how hot it gets in there. Each cell holds around 30 children. Some, slightly bigger, hold up to 60.

Several children are collecting water in buckets from a well. Two of them have climbed right down into the well. There’s a lot of carrying of water going on. I can only see the one well and another water pump. There are rain water tanks in the courtyard too but, of course, it seldom rains enough. So, a recent UNICEF report revealed that about 10% of child inmates surveyed had no choice but to drink toilet water.

We stay for a while and observe. Eventually, Khong Chang needs to head off so with handshaking and sampeahs and many aw kohns (thank yous) we hop back on the Justice Bus. It takes us back to an air conditioned office with Coke, ice cream and liberty. Much work has been done, I think, but much work still remains.

***
Last year, I visited the Phnom Tamao zoo and saw elephants, bears and birds. Our young guide had trailed us on his bicycle and periodically “sold” us coconuts that he lobbed over the fence for the bears to rip open and eat. (This made me remember Siem Reap Zoo’s otters floating on their backs, looking up and begging the kids for more lollies). However, one particular elephant at Takmao had been naughty and, I think, had even killed or seriously injured someone; he was segregated - “no coconut for you!” It was very sad.

I recall that on my visits to both zoos, I had recoiled at the sight of the small enclosures and the thought of the animal’s dental health. Now though, I realize that admission to those zoos were cheaper than admission to CC2 and in many ways the conditions were better – more space, more water, more food. So, Eureka! I think I’ve found the solution to Cambodia’s juvenile justice detention woes: the kids simply have to become more entertaining and grow more fur and claws….