NOT GUILTY?

Gift

I had just come out of the hospital and on my way back to the prison.

My heart aches because of the sad news that I had received.

I would have been happy if I was still living at my flat, having access to my medical aid, eating healthy food bathing everyday and having a good night sleep. Any mother to be in my condition might have been putting on a sad look on her face just like I did.

Letwin tried so hard to cheer me up but I wasn't interested.

She was a mother of 2 girls and do loved her children.

She kept telling me how blessed she was to have them in her life, how wonderful and great it felt to be a mother.

I didn't want my child to grow up in that horrible place were people get killed everyday because of a tooth brush or she had simply refused to give her the body lotion.

A horrible place with murders, child molesters and abusers.

You all think some of these crimes were only for men but not anymore, even women mistreats men out there.

We soon arrived at the prison and Doctor Miguel was very much concerned about me.

He kept asking me if I was going to be alright.

He was the prison doctor. I was actually the youngest one in that prison.

At the age of 25, some of my young adult were busy with school or graduating and I was here locked up with something that I didn't do.

Fights are hard to avoid, that really was the worst part.

Being stuck with all these aggressive people all the time, having no control whatsoever.

I remember one time when I first got here, a woman confronted another lady at my table where we were eating. It happened so fast, I was still sitting there when another girl had to pull me up and away from the fight. I saw why soon after because a different girl who had nothing to do with it caught fist right to the face and had a broken eye socket or something. She was rolling on the ground screaming and crying until she got taken away by the COs to go to medical and then to segregation for fighting.

For the meantime no one ever tried to fight or start anything with me, but I never gave them reason to. I stayed in my cell a lot of the time and just read.

I didn't talk about anyone in there, good or bad. I just tried to stay positive and listen more than I talked.

I actually got the nickname "smiles" even though I was probably the most depressed and anxious person there.

How was I going to raise my child in that place?

Most of these doors cells were not locked that anyone can come in and kill you. First, you are sharing a room with 60-70 other women, many were rowdy young jits.

You better figure out how to get along with those in the bunks closest to you no matter who they are.

Second, so OK there is a TV room but don't think that you are going to have any say about what's on TV.

A prison is pretty noisy place most of the day and evening.

Next time you find yourself at some kind of event with an audience of 60-70 people, many of whom who know each other, pay attention to the noise level in the crowd before the event starts.

It's going to be pretty noisy with that many conversations all trying to compete with one another for attention.

Now imagine that amount of noise, all day every day with a TV blaring in the next room and some guys playing dominoes, chess and cards while laughing, cursing at each other's moves in a friendly way and yelling at the TV especially if there is some sports event on, noise is inevitable.

Most of the women you come across as you might meet on any street.

As I got to know them I found myself looking at somebody I was having a casual conversation with and asking,

'What is this woman doing here?

What kind of major crime could she possibly have committed when she seems like an OK woman?'

Most women would rather not discuss why they are there nor do they want to know why you are there. Unless and until you become close friends.

'So have you thought about a name?' asked Letwin as we sat as a group with the other older women I got along with.

I laughed.

'I haven't because I don't know the gender.'

'I will write down some few names for you maybe I might be the Godmother. Who knows?'

Letwin had become one of my best friend. She was the loveliest person I had ever met and protected me from the bad ones. She was an ex soldier and was framed for being in position of m*******a and cocaine.

I remember the day she broke down telling me about her story.

Why she was in that place!

She was just adorable and even showed me pictures of her little girls.

'I am going to protect you in here. I promise.'

The rest of the day we weren't doing any activities and I spent most of it sleeping. I missed Karen so much and hoped that she was doing well. The man she came with the other day, he looked like a good guy. I just prayed that he was taking good care of her. Not forgetting my grandmother who passed away because of me. Honestly I blamed myself for her sudden death. I didn't know that Jason was married to a psychopath, that woman had me destroyed completely. Now I was going to give birth in jail and probably have those people take my child away from me.

...

A month later I walked inside the hospital with the guard. Doctor Miguel was already waiting for me. I had been experiencing pain and hardly slept most of the time. Luckily I found favors in the eyes of the warden. That woman was heaven sent, she treated me like I was her own daughter. She the one who asked the guard to take me to hospital. He had this big smile spread across his face, happy to see me I guess.

'Doctor Miguel.'

'Miguel,' he corrected, 'I will bring her out shortly,' he said looking at the guard who nodded in agreement.

We walked inside and he closed the door.

'How are you Katty?'

He is the first person who called me that. The huge smile didn't leave his pretty face. The guy was cute.

'I am just not feeling well and not getting enough sleep. Pregnant woman experience insomnia?'

'It's normal but when you thinking too much. Let me check your blood pressure and see if it's normal.'

I sat nervously on the bed as he did his things. I was silent and so was he.

'Your blood pressure is high. Do you want to talk about it?' he finally said sitting beside me on the bed.

I cleared my throat and didn't even know where to begin. What if I don't want to talk about it?

'Let me show you something,' he said as if he had read my mind.

He took out his phone and showed me a picture of a woman pregnant. I didn't know that he was married.

'She died giving birth. My daughter's name is Catherine. She is 7 years old but act like she is 20,' he said with a laugh, 'I blamed myself for her death. I am a doctor and should have been there to save her when they couldn't perform the operation well. I almost quit being a doctor but my mother told me not to. So then I decided to come and save more women in this place, the prison. My wife would have wanted this,' he put back his phone, 'I don't usually talk about my wife because I still recall the night I heard about the sad news. But such is life and I had to move on. Katty,' he held my hand, 'I know you going through a lot. You still young and being a mother sometimes is quite scary. If you don't take good care of yourself. Who will? I know you not ready to talk but always know that I am here for you. I am also a therapist.'

I laughed in tears. Don't even know why I was crying, maybe of his story or mine that I couldn't tell him. Miguel was polite and told me that it was just a normal pain that I was experiencing. He told me so many stories that for the first time I felt so happy and promised him that I would take good care of the baby and myself.

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