Maula Prison, located in the capital city of Lilongwe, is reported to be housing nearly 2,000 prisoners, yet it has a prison capacity of around 1,000. In some cases cells built for 50 or 60 people are said to hold three times that many. Prisoners sleep on blankets on the floor and are too tightly packed together or even over. In some cases even blankets and soap are in short supply. There are no prison uniforms, and many of the inmates are in old ragged, torn, worn out clothing. The conditions are conducive to rampant disease such as scabies, tuberculosis and HIV/Aids. Because conditions in many of the prisons are so bad the death rate is higher than it is in the general population.
After entering through a set of steel doors, we hear them clang shut behind us. We begin to move deeper into the courtyard of humanity, realizing we have disappeared from the watchful eyes at the steel gate. It is safe, as we are in an area for first offenders, but there is still something about crossing that line from the freedom of the outside to the locked in conditions inside a prison. We make our way deeper and deeper through the crowd of prisoners and the outside world gets farther and farther way. One wonders what it must be like for a man or woman who find himself or herself locked inside with no way to go outside the outer fence for months or years. We know we will be going back through that gate in a little while. The prisoners know they will not be going outside, some for a very long time.
We walk across a grassless, cluttered courtyard to a brand new chapel built to assist the prisoners in their religious services. Surprisingly we find ourselves in the midst of a very respectful, appreciative group of prisoners. They don’t seem much different than any of us. One cannot conclude about why they are here. What offense did they commit? How long will they be here? What chance do they have when they go back home? All we can see is a respectful group of men sitting on hewn benches waiting for what we have to say. One quickly feels a strong desire to help them. It is the same feeling experienced when meeting with the prison officials.
Stay and Eat with Us
Its easy to understand that it is nearly impossible for the government to feed all of the prisoners, but they tell us about the prison farms where they are making a gallant effort to raise enough food. If we can get one or two of the V-Tractors to them it will greatly increase their ability to feed the prisoners. The prisoners in the chapel applaud when they are told our group has brought the wheelchairs and medical supplies. It is one thing to know the pain of working in a rural hospital and not having the supplies to care for the patients, but they can leave and go someplace else. Imagine the struggle of working in a locked down unit full of prisoners who have no place else to go, and then run out of medical supplies.
Leaving the chapel we start back through the prison yard filled with humanity. Men are milling about everywhere, and most watch us closely as we pass through. Our escorts direct us back toward the big steel doors that make our exit to freedom. Beside a brick inner wall are a group of prisons sitting in the dirt over a small cooking fire. They are preparing nsima, and a few beans, in an old blackened pot over an open wood fire. As we approach them one of the men looks in our direction. He seems to be in charge of the meal and as we approach he turns toward us.
“Come, wash your hands and join us,” he says. We continue to move toward the doors that will lead us outside. After leaving the prison Dick Stephens, one of the founders of the Malawi Project, recalls, “That moment will remain tucked tightly in my heart for a long, long time. After that prisoner spoke to us, I found myself trying to decide which of us was really in prison. At first glance it is him. But on further consideration perhaps it is me, and not him. After all am I not trapped in a world of too many possessions that I am often unwilling to share? This man has almost no possessions, yet he welcomes the chance to share the only thing he has with me, his food.”