A call for restorative justice

One of my childhood hobbies was designing "Wanted" posters. The drawings were usually of scraggly-looking men with missing teeth, stubbly chins, eyepatches, anchor tattoos on biceps, clenched fists and striped T-shirts or white vests. The text accompanying their "mugshots" documented bizarre, often amusing "crimes" and backstories explaining psychological reasons for their deviation from the "norm."

I created volumes of these "Wanted" posters with my friend and neighbourhood accomplice Marian, who recently recalled our "Wanted" phase as: “a bit of a craze, which you began. We would sit at the dining-room table and draw them for hours!”

As a young teenager I enjoyed and barely missed an episode of Prisoner, an Australian soap opera. Sometimes reading criminals’ biographies was also of interest. While I myself had/have no criminal intentions, I had an inherent interest in the workings of the mind and a propensity for seeking to understand the "underdog" (of any sort, not just "criminal") when, from my young perspective, few others appeared to.

In my third and final year at the UWI, majoring in English literature, I chose to do the criminology module. When it was cancelled owing to unforeseen circumstances, I opted for general psychology. After graduating with my BA, while perusing a Cambridge University prospectus, I was drawn to the MPhil in criminology. I applied, mainly out of interest in the subject, rather than as a career ambition and, with the help of a partial Commonwealth scholarship, I went on to pursue that academic discipline.

On a class field trip to Holloway Women’s Prison, London, our tour guide was a chatty, smiling female prisoner. She proudly showed us what must have been the best face of the prison: Olympic-sized swimming pool, artistic murals, art room, cosy-looking, personalised cells...

Understandably, my first impression was that it must be a great place for rehabilitation.

It is ironic, therefore, to consider that Holloway was shut down in 2016 for being "inadequate," not in a condition to provide the best environment for offenders’ rehabilitation. What would they say of our prisons in Trinidad and Tobago?

Nowadays, through videos shared to social media by prisoners with contraband phones, we on "the outside" get glimpses of the beyond-deplorable conditions on "the inside." Simply looking at footage of the brown-splattered "pail" in the corner of a dark, dingy cell is enough to make one gag.

In 2012, shortly before moving to Tobago, I taught a few classes of Kundalini yoga at Golden Grove women’s prison. A member of the Soroptimists invited me to accompany them on their regular Saturday prison visits.

Nothing like Holloway, the prison (the few parts I saw) was dimly lit and basic. The women who gathered for yoga were welcoming; some chatty, some silent, observant, curious, generally interested. None had done yoga before; many said they pray or read the Bible in their cells.

I introduced them to simple breathing techniques and physical exercises which they could practise in their cells. In sessions I could literally see the women changing as tension fell away and relaxation took over.

After their first experience of one healing meditation, some women were crying and many, even those who had been silent, were eager to share their feelings.

One young woman happily expressed that during the meditation, for the first time since her incarceration, she had seen her mother, standing in the kitchen. They were able to hug and it felt real.

Other women described similar experiences: meeting and hugging estranged loved ones – children, partners, parents – feeling love, forgiveness, the opportunity to make amends.

The word "prisoner" usually arouses judgment, stripping away general public perceptions of the humanity of those incarcerated. Perhaps, as exemplified by my innocent childhood sketches, stereotypes abound, separating "them" further from "us," when in fact, they are, at their core, as we are, with feelings and longings, for love and acceptance.

Reading this, many will say, “They don’t deserve it.”

I chatted with an elderly man recently who told me he is an ex-con. He told me a heart-warming story about a bird he and his cellmates had "adopted." I may share it in another article. It is simple but speaks volumes.

There are those who advocate strongly for improvements in our criminal justice system and the state of our prisons. They advocate for restorative justice, rather than punitive action. As happens in the case of many activists’ cries in TT, their voices seem to fall on deaf ears.