Covid behind bars.
Believe it or not, just because we are in prison doesn’t mean that we are impervious to the effects of the lockdown. Covid 19 has played havoc with prisoners lives and progression, and it is likely that it will continue to cause serious disruption long after the outside world has taken steps on the way back to normality – whatever the new normal might be.
But here in Erlestoke I have to give serious credit to the governors and staff for the way that they have handled the whole lockdown. In a prison system where so much is wrong, their actions have been impressive.
We had one prisoner with a confirmed case of Covid early in the lockdown, however, the swift action taken by staff meant that the man in question was supported and isolated and to date his was the only case recorded in the prison. Thankfully the man only displayed mild symptoms and has made a full recovery.
The prison took decisive action to re-purpose the Care & Segregation Unit (CSU or The Block) to operate as an isolation unit for men who presented with symptoms. This was very reassuring for those of us on wings with shared communal washrooms and association areas. Furthermore, there were assurances given that any man who needed to relocate to the CSU for isolation would be returned to his cell as soon as he was given the all clear. Basically, you wouldn’t lose your place on your regular wing. The prison have kept their word.
At the start of the lockdown there were daily notices from the governor delivered to each and every cell giving an update in clear and grownup language. There were no frills, just the facts as they stood. These notices were also used to quickly address and deal with any rumours and misinformation that circulated. We might not have liked what was happening, but we understood the reasons for it.
But some kudos must also go to the government and the Ministry of Justice for their action nationally. They gave assurances to prisoners that were similar to the furlough scheme in the community -mixer/we would be paid our regular wages despite not being able to attend our usual employment/activities. Furthermore, every week our pin phone accounts were topped up by an extra £5 in order to help us stay in touch with family and friends outside. Given that there are around 85,000 prisoners, each week I estimate that the cost of these measures runs to more than £2 million every single week -that is above and beyond the day-to-day running costs of the prisons.
But perhaps the most impactful measures have been taken at a local level, with the introduction of a mobile gym and a reduced library service. The gym staff drive a van with a selection of weights and equipment around the prison on a rota. Each unit can enjoy a short socially distant gym session outside (weather permitting) before the equipment is sprayed, disinfected and loaded back onto the for the next wing. Even the lads that don’t use the gym appreciate the effort that staff are making to go above and beyond.
Our librarians are like modern day Florence Nightingale’s, except they wander the wings with books and DVDs instead of lamps. Twice weekly they spent a day collecting orders from the wings in the morning, then delivering items back to the wings in the afternoon. These ladies could be at home furloughed up, instead they ran the gauntlet of risk assessment and approval in order to ameliorate the pains of the 520 men stuck behind their doors.
This is an especially difficult time for most prisoners. Progression is on hold. There are severe delays for parole boards, reviews and inter-prison moves. There are no courses being run and sentence plan targets have all been kicked down the road. They will still need to be met – but when? Like those on the outside, we have no answers and no timelines.
A friend on my wing has an 11-month-old daughter. He would have missed so many landmarks in her young life being in prison – but now he misses everything. First tooth, starting to stand up, learning to walk, solid foods, facial expressions and personality – all of these milestones lost forever to him. His courage is remarkable, his resilience immense. “No point getting wound up about it”, he told me, “it’s horrible I know, but I am even more determined to make sure I never come back to prison again. I’ll not miss another thing in her life after this sentence.”
While there have been a few isolated incidents involving a small minority of prisoners, on the whole I am amazed by the attitude and collective will of staff and prisoners to get through this thing together. I witnessed a similar hiatus of hostility in November 2018 as we marked the centenary of the Armistice after World War I, but that was a brief, fleeting affair. For 12 weeks now the truce has held – we are all in the trenches together – Covid is the common enemy. If this is the new normal for prison then we can at least draw something positive from this whole ordeal.
