Exercise and sexercise

For the three months I was in Polresta remand jail, each morning we had to take part in compulsory exercise — an attempt to counter the 20 hours a day we spent locked in our cells.

The only people excused the daily workout were those who had been shot — and let’s face it, that’s a pretty good excuse — but the rest had to cram into the small courtyard to do our stuff.

The session was led by whichever cell was on picket duty (clean-up) that day. Some of the jail characters liked to lead it — often hilariously — and they would usually also force the fatties to the front, to be jeered at. There’s nowhere to hide in jail.

The exercises were a bit of a joke, and done to a military eight-count. A left leg knee raise and chant of “satu, dua, tiga” followed by an extra loud and prolonged “empaaaaaaaaaaaat, lima, enam” and “tuju-dilapan” rolled into one.

If the volume or enthusiasm wavered, the guards would make us start from scratch, but you’d hardly break a sweat and it was over in ten minutes.

In Kerobokan, each of the ten blocks takes it in turns to do exercises every Tuesday, but the women — who have far less “freedom” than the men, do it once a week on Thursdays.

The second day I was here I stumbled across the women’s session — you could hardly miss it as it attracted a fair crowd of leering male inmates.

The session is led by six of the women (they also lead the men) who apparently worked in gyms on the outside. They’re dressed in tight leggings and little denim shorts and red tops, and go hell for leather as loud “doof doof” music blares from a loudspeaker.

The women are enthusiastic participants. They know there will be a crowd, so they dress up in their finery, put on their make-up and get down to business. Literally.

I was puzzled at first to hear the women were all chanting different numbers when they did their exercises.

“Kosong, dilapan, satu, satu, lima, tuju, tiga …,” and it dawned on me they they were actually chanting their telephone numbers. The idea is you eye the inmate you fancy, then memorise her number to get in touch later via Skype or WhatsApp.

Once you’ve connected, the fun begins. For 20k rupiah, you get 20 minutes of video sexting — you have to pay first by sending them “pulsa”, or phone credit, via the network.

Until a year ago, when prisoners burnt down the visitor center during a riot, the “benchong” (transexual) block was open to the main prison. The residents were popular because they were apparently the best hair dressers, manicurists, masseuses and, for those interested, did a brisk line in “gobble and go”.

The visitor center then did not segregate inmates and the public, and you could meet your loved ones for a picnic on the lawn, where there was often a lot of “conjugal visiting” happening beneath sarongs and blankets.

Church services are currently mixed sex, but they too will be segregated in coming weeks after Bonnie and Clyde, the American murderers, were caught in the vestry getting to know each other in the biblical sense.

It will outrage dear Elizabeth Pisani to learn that condoms are prohibited in Kerobokan, and the authorities’ idea of doing a random sample for HIV testing is twice a year to choose the fittest or fattest inmates in each block. They figure they’re unlikely to be positive, and therefore it looks good on the books.

The old lags said there used to be a lot of sex between the male and female inmates, but authorities finally clamped down in 2015 when more than half the women prisoners fell pregnant.