PRISONER EXPRESS

I am one prisoner who believes that solitude and isolation in prison are bliss. Were it not for the harsh abuses heaped upon those who are placed in solitary confinement, I would likely beg to be allowed to spend my entire sentence in solitary isolation. There are others who share my viewpoint.

A greater number, however, find isolation and solitude to be very difficult if not completely intolerable.

Here are two of the most obvious situations I see every day to illustrate the two different principles working in opposition to each other in prison:

1.)In the dormitory setting where I’m living, the restroom consists of four toilets, side-by-side, flanked by two urinals at each end. These facilities are only one foot apart, with no dividers. Across from them, about three feet away, are ten lavatories, each about two inches apart. When I need to use the facilities, I try to wait till the area has been vacant a few minutes before I make my move, since when anyone is there, it is always a crowd. No matter how large a crowd has just vacated the area, invariably, when I start to use a facility there, the same men will come rushing back in, all trying to crowd as close to me as they can get until I finish, especially if it is one of the toilets I am using. When I leave, they leave.

2.)Shower time. Over the years being locked in prison one develops a prison stench that takes of couple of weeks of religiously bathing to get rid of once one is released. This comes from a combination of extremely poor quality food (mostly pork fat) and showers in which we are usually allowed no more than five minutes from start to finish. What little shower time we get is very important. We shower, usually en mass, where the nozzles are no more than two feet apart side-by-side, in rows that are only four feet apart, facing each other. On rare occasions I get into the shower when no one is there. When that happens, I usually go to the nozzle farthest from the door, hoping to remain isolated. Invariably, as soon as I start, ten or so more men will come in. Instead of giving each other room by spreading through the shower room, they will come the full length of the room to crowd as close around me as they can get. I usually pick up my soap and move to the opposite end of the room. Also invariably, within seconds, here they come, following me to bury me under the swarm. Before I can move again it’s time to leave.

This togetherness in prison is much like the togetherness in a hive of honey bees. The workers and drones feel they must all crowd together in layers as thickly as they can get. If you reach into a hive and gently pull out one bee, holding it alone, quickly, half of the hive will swarm out to form a glob around that bee and your hand.

Over more than 20 years of observation of prison life, and intimate association with the men who must cluster like bees in a hive, and those who prefer to be alone, I have found that in general, those who cluster have low intelligence and have little or no skill, while those who prefer solitary or being alone are usually of above average intelligence and have skills, so are capable of surviving on their own, without needing someone to tell them what to do, or more often, to do it for them.