A Walk into a Prison Without Bars

The reason I was in Puerto Princesa was a seminar on fiscal prudence and how to avoid unfavorable audit findings.  The good thing about it is that the last “official” day of the seminar was designed as spare and travel time, perhaps for the participants to digest the heavy presentations and challenges posed by the speakers.  We were a group from our institution but each one has planned their activity for the morning before the afternoon travel back to home.  Many settled to have long breakfast, and others for last minute city tour and shopping.  I decided to be a lone adventurer as I could convince no one to come with me.  The city tour to which most of my companions are going did not include  the Iwahig Prison and Penal Farm to which I would like to go.  In my lone previous visit to Palawan, I missed going to Iwahig and so this time, I have to ensure being there.  Not that I have a relative there but I was simply intrigued by what I heard of this place – a prison where prisoners are free roaming and working around.

The main gate of the prison said "welcome", no coiled barb wires or some hard security cordons that made me feel at ease as the multicab I was riding passed through it.

 The idea of prison I get from the movies is that of hardened iron grills enclosing quarters that have beds, the number of decks of which equal the number of occupants, where tough individuals are as evidenced by tough muscles not to mention protruding large bellies and huge tattoos of wild animals such as snakes, crocs, and eagles.  The charm of freedom inside a prison then becomes a must see for me.

The previous evening, I asked the tour desk of the hotel where we had the seminar about how to get to Iwahig.  The attendant said it is about thirty minutes away, the fastest way is to hire a vehicle, tricycle or multicab.  This mode though requires a hefty sum. So I asked for other options.

Is there public transport going there?

The public utility vehicles that go in the colony are rare and the wait might take the whole day.  There are jeepneys going to other towns of Palawan or barangays of Puerto Princesa City but would pass only by the gate.  From the gate to where the prisons are, it is about four or five kilometers. Another option is a ride to Irawan then hire tricycle there at perhaps a cheaper rate.

My adventure started at around seven thirty at the City Coliseum.  I immediately spotted a multicab bound for Irawan and so I decided to try my luck.  Before Irawan proper, I was the only passenger left in the vehicle.  I told the driver where I was really going and he offered to convey me there at a price that was definitely seven times lesser than hire rate from Puerto proper that the hotel tour desk said.  The driver was generous with some information about the place.  He pointed to some spots that we’ve passed through as laboratory and work areas of the Department of Agriculture.  Moments later, he pointed to some rice fields which he said where farmlands of the Iwahig Penal Colony.  He related a time when he also conveyed visitors that when they passed the place in the morning, they saw prisoners harvesting but when they were already going home in the afternoon, they noticed that prisoners are already planting.  That is how fast things can go, he said, because there are a lot of them, prisoners who work.  Other things he said I forgot as soon we came to gate arched with a welcome sign to the Iwahig Penal Colony.  There were no entrance requirements except to greet the guard and log a name into his logbook.  The ride from the gate to the main prison compound is bumpy through a gravel road which is of stark difference with the concrete highway from Puerto to the gate.  As soon as we were on the main compound, he offered to wait for me for an additional sum.  I told him I intend to experience the walk up to the gate and wait for jeepneys from other towns.  He seemed to have understood the experience I want to have, offered some advice and wished me good luck.  It was obvious he wasn’t new to conveying visitors here that he called one of the men wearing a prisoner’s shirt and asked the guy to tour me around then he left.

The Recreation Hall is a dilapidated building at the main compound.  The inmate I talked to said that it was built in 1924 as he pointed to some Roman numbers embossed on the frontage.  It was obvious that there was little renovation done and needs much repairs. 

           
 We were in front of a building marked the Recreation Hall.  My host was a middle-aged fellow, sports a bald hairdo, some wrinkles on the forehead, wears a maong trimmed into a short pants, and a lighted cigarette on hand.  Except for his brown shirt marked “Mimimum Security”, there is no way to tell he is a prisoner.

                From where are you, was his initial query.  I told him I am from Benguet.  I thought that there were only the two us but as soon as I told where I am, immediately from nowhere other inmates surrounded us.  One who was obviously on his way to fetch with some improvised timba on hand identified himself as from La Union and started conversing with me in Ilokano.  Another identified himself as from Pangasinan and pleaded that I talk to him after he finished his laundry.  Then soon, someone was called whom they identified as my kailiyan (town mate) to come and “properly” welcome me there.

                The guy identified himself (I’ll refer to him as Ka Adel in this write up) as among the leaders of “kakadwa” (fellows) from the North whenever one needs assistance. He invited me inside the Recreation Hall which was also used to display products made by prisoners.  He invited me to buy some souvenirs and pointed to crafts made by “kakadwa.”  He explained that when someone buys an item the capital and a percentage of the profit goes back to the prisoner who made the craft.  I asked why this was called the Recreation Hall, and he pointed to a badminton/volleyball court.  Often times, there are games that are played there but everyday, this is used to sell the products of the prisoners.  We went by the window and he showed me the maximum security compound, and to the other side, he showed the medium security compound.  He then explained to me the color codes used – brown shirts for minimum security prisoners, blue for medium security, and orange for maximum security.  He explained that I could actually talk to prisoners in their quarters but at that time, most are in their assigned tasks for the day. 

After some more conversation, we went down the basement of the Recreation Hall.  My initial host was there ready to assist me touring around other facilities in the compound.  We passed by a tennis court, a Catholic Church, and an open altar.  He explained that this open altar is where masses for the dead are held before being brought to the cemetery.  He showed me to the administrative building then to the waiting area for public transport to Puerto Princesa.  I opted though to go back to the Recreation Hall.

Ka Adel immediately met me again and invited me under a tree for some more chat.  He told to me how people inside that compound, though they maybe free roaming around, long for some visit from their loved ones and even just plain kailiyan.  He shared to me that since he was brought to this prison some twenty years ago, he never had a loved one visit him.  Prior to it, he was jailed for eleven years at National Bilibid in Muntinlupa and he had visits there.  He blamed his lack of visitors to the accessibility of the place.  This place is really far from the Northern Philippines, a bus, a plane, and several jeepney rides and walk away, I realized.

A Rizal monument stands at the middle of the compound.  Nearby is the Saint Joseph the Worker Parish Church.  They have a resident chaplain.  My new-found friend in the compound also told me that pastors from protestant churches also come to preach.  I simply wished the prisoners will take the example of Rizal while in exile, making the most of his time, and hoped that the chaplain and pastors will truly shepherd the flock inside the compaound,

I have heard prisoners can bring their families in here, I asked him.  He confirmed.  Those who opt to bring their families have Libertad, a compound within the colony, to build a house.  But he clarified that it is only when one is able to sustain a family before daring so.  Certainly the “livelihood” as displayed inside the Recreation Hall is not enough to feed a family.  The government gives a meager ration not even enough for one single person for a week, according to him.  This consists of at least four and a half kilos of rice, seven small cans of sardines, two small noodle packs, and two eggs. Then he posed me a question, do you think that is enough for the twenty one meals that person would normally have in a week?

He said he considers it a blessing when some employees ask them to do some services for a fee.  These services include getting some firewood from dried trees in nearby forests, laundry services, and some errands inside the prison.  At times, they are also able to find stray animals such as ducks caught in the mangrove forests and sell them to employees.  Some generous visitors also give them money.  Mostly, the sum they get from all these are shared between “kakadwa”.  What he hates are some employees who underrate them and even want a share with whatever visitors give.

Don’t they give wages for the labor such as those I saw working in the farm?  He said the ordinary laborers receives forty five pesos a month, some kapatas receives seventy five pesos.  Skilled labor such as machine operator, say the tractor or thresher, receive higher.  He was not sure of the amount although he was sure it is not more than five hundred a month.  He ended saying, “Narigat ti biyag ditoy.” (Life is hard here.)

Inmates carries their harvest to the threshing area as the maya birds freely come to share with the fruits of the field.

I did not realize how time flew by so fast that it was even Ka Adel who reminded me that it was already nearing ten o’clock when he looked at his watch.  He estimated my time of waiting or walking to the main gate and prodded me to leave or I’ll miss my flight back to Manila.  He urged me though that should I know of some kailians who are in Puerto Princesa, I should exhort them to visit Iwahig.  Truly people inside there needed conversations such as what we had.

I walked, occasionally jogged, the road towards the main gate.  I stopped at some point to take photographs.  One was a view where on one side is dry brownish land and on the other is a verdant green land.  There are really contrasts in life, I mused.  Another is of white bird flying freely over rice fields with mountains on the background.  The bird soon landed on a spot where its companions are looking for food, perhaps worms and other insects at where some cows are freely grazing.  On another side, there were the small maya birds flying from one field to another obviously enjoying themselves of the verdant fruits of the palay toiled by the prisoners.  I pondered – birds are often used to signify freedom but these different birds tell of the diversity of how freedom is understood.

While positioning to take a picture, a motorcycle suddenly stopped beside me.  I was startled.  An elderly man asked what I was doing.  I said, I was just taking pictures.  “So you are a social researcher?” he blurted especially when I responded to a previous query that I was from university.  I almost chuckled on that, said “No” but could not remember any word to correct his assumption.  He offered me the ride and as I was behind him on his bike, he offered some information about him.  He was a retired employee but now has his house within the compound.  He is currently pushing for some advocacy which he offered to talk about if I can lend some ears.  We proceeded to a shed near a building marked “Minimum Security” and he started to share info about a foundation he put up for empowering individuals who are freed from prison.  He is of the opinion that society has a negative attitude about ex-convicts.  This has to be corrected, he said, so as to allow the good reintegration of prisoners.  He shares that what his group is doing is a program that would prepare ex-convicts through “educational” guidance before they are sent back to their communities. He is still assuming I was a social researcher/writer and asked me to write good things about the prisoners, what they need, and cast away “fear” of society on ex-convicts as government is doing well to give them normal life such as this in Iwahig.

I asked him about the low wages given to the prisoners.  And he simply said, of course the kwerna  (ordinary labor) is given the lowest, higher for the kapatas because of the supervision, and premium is given to skills.  He explained that these are not to be understood as wages but rather as tokens.  He said that another benefit of this labor is the chance for this people to stretch their muscles, an important aspect to normal living.

Trying to act free coming out of that walk from prison.

As time was really going by, I asked him for dispensation.  I jogged to the gate as my latest host has some other things to do.  People I passed wearing blue shirts obviously resting from hours of labor waved to me, some gamely posing for the lens.  The guard at the gate smiled to me as if inviting me to come back soon.  Luckily, it did not take time before a jeep stopped to pick me up.  It was a public utility vehicle from Narra, a town beyond Iwahig.   I transferred to another ride at a junction then to a tricycle to the hotel where my companions are waiting.  All in all, I spent thirty six pesos for fare from Iwahig to the hotel.  This is slightly more than twice the fare I paid when I went there.

I had barely little time to prepare myself for the flight and travel back to the North.  Most of my companions are already at the lobby waiting for me.  As I was placing into my travelling bag some souvenir items I purchased from the Recreation Hall, them - people are on my mind.  I vividly remember Joel (not his real name) pleading that I buy a purse he claimed he crafted.  Overpriced but on one hand I thought it was worth it.  I also bought some replica of butterflies in that hall, and was happy that those whom I gave these items thought that they were beautiful.  As we were up the clouds, Iwahig was in my mind.  Even up to now.  Iwahig – a prison without bars but still a prison.