Render unto Caesar

We’d been told to expect a big raid this week because authorities were looking for ways to slash the prison’s electricity bill.

The block committee was summoned to the warden’s office at the weekend and we were told each block had to sacrifice a number of items that use electricity. If we didn’t give up enough gadgets voluntarily, the guards would choose themselves which ones to take.

It’s a very unpopular edict. In reality, prisoners are not allowed to have any electric or battery powered devices, but it is a rule largely observed in the breach.

It would not be a stretch to say that every prisoner has a mobile phone — many more than one — and dozens have tablets and laptops.

It seems these aren’t the main target of the crackdown, but rather the rice-cookers, kettles, fans, blenders, fridges and television sets that are present in every block.

Every block has a large flat-screen TV in the central aula (hall) but many inmates also have personal TV sets installed in their cells.

Most blocks also have dozens of rice-cookers and kettles — after all, prisoners effectively have to cater for themselves — but many cells are equipped with sophisticated stereo equipment and I know of several that boast air conditioning units and fridges.

Two blocks have already been subject to the electronic checks, and the results were devastating. Having decided that inmates had not voluntarily given up enough goods, the guards confiscated every rice cooker and kettle in the block, leaving them reliant on the swill that the kitchen produces.

While they left prisoners with their phones, they confiscated every charger they found — another major inconvenience. They also took most of the electric fans, leaving just one per cell, and also confiscated dozens of extension cables and ripped out lengths of cabling.

We agreed a deal with the guards that we would cut back our devices to one kettle and rice cooker for each cell as well as two of each for communal use at the entrance. They also agreed to allow us one small fan per prisoner and four more for the aula.

Given those sleeping in the aula are assigned to a cell for the count (and to use the bathroom) it means effectively one rice cooker and kettle for every six people.

Of course, deciding who would have to give up their items caused immediate problems.

We were lucky in my cell. Until I smuggled in a spanking new rice cooker, my cellmates relied on the communal pot, so we don’t have to give up anything but in some rooms every inmate has their own device, and none of them want to share.

(It should be noted that we use rice cookers to make stew, soups, curries, pasta etc. They really are amazing devices.)

We had a very heated meeting on Saturday night when we laid out the situation. We said each cell would have two days to decide for themselves which items to keep. Extra items could be sold (or sent out of jail with a visitor) or could be “hidden”, as long as it was not in the block — the communal risk was too high.

We gave everyone until Sunday afternoon to settle it among themselves.

Some cells sorted out their situation immediately and with no issues, but four of them (and we knew it was coming) descended into open rebellion — with each other and the committee.

The odious British coke dealer, who never leaves his cell, flatly refused and warned we’d have to “take them off me by force”, claiming he had permission from the warden to keep his own. He may well have in the past, but under a different administration. The new warden had made it very clear there would be no exceptions to the rule.

On Sunday afternoon it came to a head. He refused to coordinate with his cell mates, so we moved in to deal with it ourselves. At first there was a standoff, with him swinging a metal pipe at his cell door and threatening to report a couple of the committee members for dealing drugs.

Given he is still dealing himself on the outside, this was not the smartest thing to threaten the committee with and he was quickly overpowered and given a few extra lusty blows for good measure.

All his goods were taken, meaning he’ll now have to play nice to use the remaining items in his cell or the communal gadgets.

It really isn’t a civilised way to deal with it, but I couldn’t see how we had any choice. On the plus side, the three remaining cells quickly caved in when they saw how determined we were to enforce the rule.

On Monday afternoon the guards came in to do their checks. All went well until cell 14, where they discovered two rice cookers — we had missed one a Dutchman had cunningly stashed in his pillow.

At that point they insisted every rice cooker would be confiscated, but it was only after a lot of “negotiation” they settled on taking the offending item and one of the communal pots.

Once they’d left, we took the remaining rice-cooker from cell 14 and turned that into a communal pot, leaving the Dutchman to face an awkward future with his room mates.

It’s a hard way of going about business, but there is little choice in a place like this where it is every man for himself, but punishment is collective.

Of course, the items that the guards don’t take home will trickle back into the general population for a price over the coming weeks and months until the process is repeated in a year or so.

It is a seditious system. You have to bribe a guard to get a rice cooker in, he then confiscates it off you and then you have to buy it back from him.

Rinse and repeat.