LUKE Zinyengere is a name all inmates who were at Harare Remand Prison, including myself, on March 23 would love to forget.
He single handedly invited the full wrath of the Zimbabwe Prisons and Correctional Services (ZPCS) after his prison escape.
A month after my incarceration, I had appeared before High Court judge Justice Gibson Mandaza for a ruling on my application for bail with less optimism, but determination.
I looked at my wife who sat in the gallery and saw her drained face, wrinkles forming on her forehead, an indication she knew what was coming — bail was denied.
I had written a letter in anticipation of this judgement, which was immediately read by my lawyers just after court.
Despite the devastating news, nothing could have prepared me or my fellow inmates to what was in store for us after Zinyengere’s daring escape from the Rotten Row magistrates courts in Harare.
Until today, nobody really knows what happened at the magistrates court when Zinyengere escaped and the failure by the prison guards to stop the escape.
I was at the High Court, but everyone who was there had a different version of the facts - the only thing they agreed onwas that Zinyengere escaped under the nose of prison guards.
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Prisoners, who were at court with Zinyengere that day, got a good beating as if that was going to bring back the escaped prisoner.
Back at prison, we expected the worst, but Saturday passed without incident save for police detectives that were coming in and out of the three storey building housing the D Class prisoners, of which I was one of them.
Word got out that Zinyengere’s escape was aided by a prison guard, who had been paid US$500 to smuggle the gun into Harare Remand Prison and eventually handed it over to the man accused of close to seven cases of armed robbery.
Police quickly arrested the prison officer, who was detained at Chikurubi Maximum Security Prison, but nothing was ever said about him in public even to this day.
His alleged involvement is still a whisper in the corridors.
What later happened on March 23 changed my life forever and how we were to live at Harare remand until I walked out.
It all started as a normal day.
Cells were opened and the normal counting of prisoners was done, all accused persons as is the norm on a Sunday went down the quad for a “warrant check.”
This was done by the ever friendly Khule Simba, who called out all the names of 1234 inmates on that day, telling them of their next court dates and which courts they would be going to.
After the headcount a warning was issued: “Teya Mhepo” loosely translated to mean “keep your ears on the ground as something big is about to happen”.
Indeed it happened.
Normal visiting hours were suspended, prisoners were instructed to go back into their cells and doors were locked behind them, those who had been there long enough told us to brace for a tough ride.
The nightmare that will forever be ingrained in my mind was about to play out.
In the cells, our cell staff (prisoner-in-charge of the cell) popularly known as Murehwa mounted a watch tower checking the activities of the guards on the ground as is normal practice daily so that nothing would hit us by surprise.
Polite Sibanda, who has been in remand for four years and whom I befriended, organised and respected by nearly everyone, was there to guide me.
He has seen this before.
When a prisoner they all call Spiderman escaped in the dead of the night and is still yet to be accounted for, pain was inflicted to all those who had remained behind.
Murehwa, an ever jovial inmate shouted “Vana Baba Foren, iyi haisi yekutambanayo,” as he warned us that trouble was coming.
Masked guards disembarked from a prison truck wearing plastic gloves, an indication that a major search of the prison was about to begin.
They came, angry and ready for action, this is after having their weekend plans cancelled so that they can send a message to inmates habouring any thoughts of escaping.
Before they reached our cell, we heard screams and sounds of assaults from the other cells, as the war against unarmed “innocent” citizens of Harare remand prison had started.
An act of false bravado engulfed our cell as inmates started telling each other that they would resist any attempts of assault by the guards, saying they would fight back if need be.
I almost believed them because it was a cell of notorious armed robbers, murderers and rapists and some of them heavily built.
The false bravado melted as the cell door was opened with just one instruction — strip naked and fall in line.
We all stripped naked and fell in line (foren), then at that time a barrage of assaults began to indiscriminately fall on our naked and defenceless bodies, as the guards whose faces we could not see began to beat us.
Those who had promised to fight back disappeared in the chaos, save for two men who tried to stand their ground including an elderly man who said he was a war veteran and could not stand the humiliation.
All attention by the close to thirty prison guards, riding on the powers of the state was turned on them, as to how they survived that beating only God knows.
For me this was a first, to be beaten or stripped naked.
We were force-marched from our cells naked, and made to sit on a bare wet concrete floor in the section quad, as prison guards rummaged through our belongings, pouring water on our clothes and blankets.
A day before, I had received groceries worth US$300 including about five bricks of cigarettes worth US$75, a major internal currency in prison since I am not a smoker.
All these were looted, vandalised or just disappeared by the time I was allowed to return to the cell naked, cold and shivering only to find the clothes and blankets wet.
The cigarettes bought by ourselves from the ZPCS tuckshop were confiscated from us, and meal tickets disappeared.
