Prison Journalism: A youthful descent into chaos
Remember, it began when I first entered a place of correction. Young, at 15 years old, I was accused of a hobby of mine—taking without asking. I was sent to the big house and introduced to a reformatory in Wynberg, a place called Bounty Town or, as they called it, the ‘Grannies House.’
The first taste of life away from home
For me, being away from home for the first time was one hell of an experience. I came across a bunch of dudes known as very dangerous and who would punch people. The first thing I learnt was that being there for a petty crime meant a long trial that practically stripped you as a male. I tried my best to cause chaos, even though it exposed me to many things.
Attempts to escape
Being as young as I was, with the small body I had, it was easy to just disappear. On my first escape, I just wanted to go home, so I ran and got help from the inmates. Somehow, they managed to bend one of the bars, so I put some Vaseline on my body and slid my way to freedom. We were eight at the time when we got past the fence. We split up; four went to the taxi rank, three to the train station, and I ran on foot, got a lift on the highway, and was free when I got home. The cops were already there. I waited them out for a while until they left. Home felt different and stupid, so I ran back to my friend’s stash for robbery all over again. Eventually, I got tired of the old side and felt some nervousness. I decided to turn myself in.
My last run and consequences
They took me back to Grannies House. That’s when I escaped the second time, but not to go home this time around, but out of necessity. You see, running out and returning with weed was like a sport in there—who would run fast enough and return without getting caught with weed?
I made my last run, and it was hectic because I ended up with a house-breaking case. I ran from Grannies House and went to get weed as usual. I got robbed from behind by the locals but wasn’t stupid enough to lose track. Before he took my belongings, I saw where he lived, which led me to make a reckless decision. I broke into his house and ransacked it, spilling everything on the floor. the floor and drenching it in water out of frustration. I even left his clothes in the mess.
I stole a few gadgets, which was stupid, and went back to the prison house with them. I got caught and was taken to the police station, where I received a new case. When the judge of my pending case found out, he had no choice but to send me to the big house. That was when all the real time started.
When I was young, I just loved chaos, and it adored me.
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This project in collaboration with RESTORE currently works with formerly incarcerated young men in the communities.
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