Warning: The content contained within this article features imagery which readers may find disturbing
Another day has gone by, and another day facing your fears and demons. Repeating life became something normal, looking forward every day to the same thing: to get a little sunlight or to go to a program to be out of the hell cell. There is never a moment where you see something positive happening. All you see is depressing faces, listening to sad talks. It’s just too much. You never know what to expect because prison has its own time and ways. Spiritually and mentally being behind bars is tough, but physically it’s even worse, knowing there is nowhere to go.
The dark exposure
There were so many things happening that I was very shocked to see. It’s something you would never be exposed to in your life when you are outside in your community. It was very shocking to see how two native guys were busy with black magic, burning powders and getting this strong, rotten smell from the smoke. They were drawing with the cardboard of the toilet paper, creating dolls covered with blood and needles, shaking the dolls, and talking in strange voices. Believe me, that pushed so much fear into me. I didn’t know what to say or think at that moment. It was like, am I dreaming or is it just my imagination? But it was really happening.
Walking away from the toilet made me realise that it was normal in prison because the other inmates who had been there for a while just came in and out like they were used to what they were doing. That made me even more shocked but also made me fear a little less. I asked this one guy, “My broe, wat maak daai mense?” His reply was: “Los daai mense, hulle is bymekaar met umtagati.” That moment, I just stood there thinking about all the possible things that could come from that and how I could be affected. I told myself I must get a Quran and Surat Yaseen because those were the only books I could trust to help me.
Finding faith
Sleepless nights and weeks passed since the incident. Then one day, an Imam, a Muslim teacher, came to do programs at our block. I requested the warden if I could ask the Imam for something, and that’s when he gave me the two books and a file with Islamic teachings. I was happy when he blessed me with those. I made a hanging rack with shoelaces and cardboard, big enough for the Quran to fit on, away from dust and the floor, just above my head. I remember I had a blue salah carpet that I hung from the top bed to the bottom to cover my eyes from the lights.
The night of fear
On a Thursday night, I remember me and some other inmates sitting lekker, talking about our life on the outside and our dark experiences. That’s when I spoke about what I had seen a few weeks earlier in the toilet. They all just stared at me, and one guy said I shouldn’t speak about it. It was late, already past our bedtime, so everyone stood up and went to their beds. We had been sitting by one of the broken windows on top of two beds, away from where I was sleeping. I was the only one still sitting there, and it made me wonder why they didn’t want me to talk about it.
This was in the juvenile A section, room 4, in August 2011. That night, I started feeling strange and went off to bed, feeling so tired and sleepy. I took the Quran and read a few pages with the guy sleeping on the bed next to mine. When we were done, he made a dua, and we went to sleep. My bed was facing the toilet, so I could see who went in and came out. That night, a guy went in and came out not long after, walking like he was still sleeping. As he went to bed, I heard the room becoming restless, inmates turning in their beds. I started feeling a deep sense of fear. I heard the tap open, and a strange shadow figure appeared on the wall in front of me, moving toward the opposite beds. My eyes tried following it, and then it suddenly disappeared.
The struggle for peace
I got goosebumps all over my body. I didn’t know if I should shout. I tried to make dua and pray in my head, but the words were stuck. It felt like the spirit was already busy with me, like someone was trying to strangle me. The salah carpet was slapping against the bed rapidly. I was scared and drowning in fear. I couldn’t defend myself and couldn’t see what it was, just a dark, shadowy figure that I feared. It was hard for me to sleep, and I started losing weight. I couldn’t wait to get out of that room.
I didn’t want to speak to anyone about it because they would think I was mad, and I would carry a label as a scary boy, which is not good in prison. I kept quiet until today, after a dream I had that woke the memories of a dark past.
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