One day, in 1999, I came to Langata Women’s Prison in Nairobi to inquire about the fate of a detained Rwandan refugee. On the way out, I met a sister catechist who told me that for the last nine months the faithful did not have a single religious service – could I please help and serve as a prison chaplain? In less than a week, the authorities at prison headquarters, realizing that I had worked in prisons in Eldoret in the seventies and in Nanyuki in the nineties, provided me with the necessary work permit.

It was 12 December 1999, on the third Sunday of Advent, that I entered the remand prison for the first time, and the very first reading assigned to that particular day happened to be taken from Isaiah 61:1-2.

‘The Spirit of the Lord sent me:

• to bring the good news to the poor,
• to bind up hearts that are broken,
• to proclaim liberty to the captives,
• sight to the blind,
• freedom to those in the dungeon,
• and to proclaim a time of favour from the Lord.’

This message I understood as addressed to me personally, all the more as the Swahili key word and motto faraja (consolation, comfort or encouragement) is related to Mfariji, Roho Mfariji, the Holy Spirit, the advocate, defending us in court. I perceived it as a call and a programme to be implemented over time and, by God’s grace, it worked.

The first and foremost mission of a prison chaplain is to bring the inmates a message of hope and courage, of human dignity and adherence to the commandments of GodThe beginnings were not easy. All I was allowed to do was to celebrate the Holy Eucharist; any personal contact with prisoners was out of the question (‘Mzungu, kuenda!’ – ‘White man, go away!’). Obviously, the first and foremost mission of a prison chaplain is to bring the inmates a message of hope and courage, of human dignity and adherence to the commandments of God, thus enhancing a harmonious relationship among the prison community. Yet, in the understanding of our Church, the gospel has also a social dimension: it is to be witnessed in word and deed.

Slowly I worked myself into the ‘system’ by concentrating on the remand section. Because religious services and any other activities could only be conducted if it did not rain, my first request to the officer in charge was to get permission to build a roof over the inner court. No problem, permission was granted. If there is a roof, one can collect rain water; thus two huge plastic tanks were put up to offset the shortage of water. Under this roof I was able to install TVs and DVD devices, not only in the remand and capital remand, but also in the main prison. Now, my sisters were sheltered from the rain, but not from the cold. They were sitting on the bare cement floor, freezing and coughing in tattered clothes. A truly pitiful sight! The next thing I was permitted to do was to provide solid benches for all the 750 or so prisoners. But there remained a problem: most of their white ‘uniforms’ were so light that one could see through them. We all like transparency in government offices, but not in ladies’ dresses. Friends from Switzerland helped me to pay for proper clothing, including underwear, hygienic pads and soap.

Next came the issue of our women spending over twenty hours a day in their dirty, smelly and dark cells. Would Faraja be allowed to clean them, to paint them inside and outside, and to construct proper windows for more light and fresh air? The answer was yes, and the result is clean and bright rooms.

Still, was it necessary, was it proper, that women on remand should spend so many hours doing nothing, quarrelling and giving one another and the officers on duty a hard time? How could they avoid discord and useless talk and so release much stress? Obviously, the greatest enemy for an imprisoned person is boredom. And so Faraja received permission to construct three sports grounds, one in the remand section and two in the main prison, complete with showers, toilets and sports kits. Up in the remand section we could build a classroom, buy knitting and sewing machines and add a reading room, three counselling rooms and a room with three computers for the staff.

Now, for the very first time, remand prisoners were allowed to work and to acquire new and useful skills which they can fall back on once they are released. Now the staff members, including the nurses, find their work made easier since they are associating with more relaxed, well-occupied prisoners. They, in turn, eager to explore their creative potential, embrace their classes with much enthusiasm. These new facilities are already so congested that we intend to enlarge them later this year.

A sorry sight in the main prison was the kitchen for over 700 inmates, a black den full of noxious fumes – a real health hazard – and some half-broken containers meant to cook maize, beans and rice. Faraja turned it into a bright modern kitchen with modern equipment and added a bakery that produces all sorts of bread and pastries for sale. Below the kitchen we turned a hardly used plot of red soil into a flourishing vegetable garden by setting up plastic tanks and introducing drip irrigation. The careful but efficient use of water will teach both prisoners and staff an important lesson.

The aim of imprisonment is, of course, to restore, not to discourage or destroy; to reform, not to punishAt the main prison, friends helped us to construct a whole new building which now accommodates a computer school (headed by our own teacher) that is intended not only for the prisoners but for the staff as well. Next to it is a large hall which Faraja divided into three classrooms and an office for the teacher-in-charge. Langata Women’s Prison is no more the wretched place described by an inmate, Judy Akinyi, in her book published in 2008, Deadly Moneymaker.

The needs of my sisters go, of course, beyond physical requirements. The necessity for a proper church was met by Faraja Trust who, in 2003, provided the funds for a building on condition that convicted prisoners would be allowed to worship together with staff members. Painted on the floor of the remand section is a maze which the women can walk. It is a symbol of our sometimes devious lives and helps the women to visualize how we all make detours on our way.

Most of our women are totally lost when it comes to legal issues and their defence in court. Faraja Trust has been lucky to find advocates who free of charge, out of generosity, come and take up deserving cases. So far they have successfully freed a number of prisoners who were either on remand or condemned to death.

Other needs of our prisoners are of an emotional nature such as communication with their loved ones at home. Faraja Trust facilitates such contact and pays school fees for abandoned or vulnerable children, but we also help staff members to pay for the education of their children. In order to improve staff living conditions as well, Faraja furnished the community hall with chairs, TV and DVD and table tennis.

The aim of imprisonment is, of course, to restore, not to discourage or destroy; to reform, not to punish. This aim can only be met if prison officers are well equipped for the exceedingly difficult task of rehabilitating prisoners. Being in contact with inmates for around twenty-four hours a day, they naturally have more opportunities for changing attitudes than any other prison worker. But only skilled and motivated staff can have a positive impact on the rehabilitation of prisoners. With this in mind, and fully supported by the Commissioner of Prisons, Faraja Trust has organized workshops in a number of prisons covering such areas as motivation, psychological processes, teamwork, customer care, Christian principles, human rights, etc. This new project has been greatly appreciated by the Commissioner of Prisons, who personally came to grace a graduation ceremony and to hand out certificates to staff members. Faraja Trust would like to expand such workshops, especially those that teach counselling skills.

Up to this point, Faraja Trust has been perceived as a simple donor or benefactor; but our vision is to enter into a true partnership with the prison authorities. We would like to encourage and enhance their own initiatives, with Faraja playing a more subsidiary role and acting as a source of inspiration and of new ideas.

In spite of all our success, there is still a long way to go. To mention just three challenges: one, the time that somebody spends in remand prison – and that may last many months and sometimes many years – should be much much shorter: justice delayed is justice denied! Two, the period spent on remand should be deducted from the sentence handed down. Three, periodical reviews for long-term prisoners who have reformed would go a long way in reducing congestion of the prison.

Two years ago, on an official visit to open new projects, the Vice-President of Kenya declared Langata Women’s Prison a model and centre of excellence to be emulated by the other ninety-two prisons in the country. And still better: last year, the boss of this prison received the International Corrections and Prisons Association Award for Best Correctional Facility Boss Globally ‘in recognition of the significant work undertaken in reforming the jail’ – a slight overstatement wrongly addressed…■