Justice in the Congo, Part 7

Congolese Prison

I tag along as the chief prosecutor brings us on a tour of Kamina’s prison.  This is no drop-in.  Several United Nations officials are among the 12 or so people visiting today.  

There is nothing remarkable about the outside of the prison; it is a medium-sized brick building with high walls.  Most of the structure has no traditional windows -- just small slots three or four meters off the ground.  A few windows illuminate offices near the entrance.  Several people -- perhaps family members of inmates -- loiter near the bars that function as the front door.  

Our group walks into a lobby of sorts with several closed doors.  The man in charge of the prison is not present, but I am introduced to the second in command and escorted to his office.  I ask two questions, and when the prosecutor sees that this might take a while, he says we should do the tour first.  I can ask my questions when we finish, he says.  (The opportunity does not arise.  But I am able to follow up two days later, on a second visit.)  
The second-in-command leads the tour and provides most of the narrative.  The prosecutor offers commentary along the way, and the prison nurse occasionally chimes in as well.  We learn that the prison was originally a depot for the railroad that runs through Kamina, so it is more suited to housing sacks of grain than hundreds of human beings.  The prison has existed here in this form for over half a century, the guide says.   

There used to be a dispensary behind one of the doors in the lobby; it was a gift from an NGO.  But now, there is nothing inside -- no equipment and no medicine.  It has been this way since 2006.  The prison nurse tells us that the prison has no place to isolate the infected; they stay in prison until they are sent to hospital.  

If a prisoner is in need of drugs, someone must come up with money and go to town to buy them.  (The lone exception is tuberculosis drugs, which are free thanks to another NGO.)  

The prison spends about $67 per month on drugs -- an average of less than 40 cents per person, per month.  An NGO doctor who has worked in remote areas of the Congo for the past three years tells me that many drugs, such as antibiotics or anti-malarial agents, can cost three or four times as much as in the United States.  

The prison feeds the inmates once per day, usually around noon.  The fare most days is beans and cassava leaves, a common leafy vegetable in this part of the Congo.  Sometimes there is fish.  Churches or NGOs can supply additional food, and about a third of the current inmates have their diets supplemented by visiting family members.  

Four security guards are on the prison payroll; they live here while on duty.  During those periods, they have no means of communication with the outside world other than their personal cell phones.