No escaping reality of life behind bars in new prison

By Dewi Anggraeini

MELBOURNE (JP): There was no doubt it was a prison. Visitors, including journalists, must enter through a security door, then show their ID, hand over any handbag, and indicate the clearance they have for the camera. Although serious-faced, the officers were not overly officious.

"Have you been here before?" asked the female officer who escorted me to the general manager's office. When I replied that I had not, she assured "It's more like a holiday resort than a prison".

The Metropolitan Women's Correctional Center, in Melbourne's outer suburb of Deer Park, is the first privately run prison in Victoria. When it was officially opened in August last year, the old Fairlea Women's Prison in Melbourne was closed, and the prisoners moved there. There were 114 inmates for its capacity of 125.

Kelvin Anderson, the general manager, took me on a tour. I had only been allowed to bring my camera in after promising I would not take photographs of prisoners. Anderson greeted every prisoner we came across, his body language conveying the message that he was approachable, without appearing insincerely chatty.

"If a prisoner does not answer my greetings, but mutters behind my back, I'll turn around and ask her to say whatever she wants to say to my face. And they usually do," he said.

The inmates talked to him on a range of topics, from visitation of relatives to the restrictions on access to their earnings. In the low-security C Unit, the inmates were organizing a fundraiser. Their conversation was reminiscent of any at a family Sunday lunch. The unit had a lived-in, homey atmosphere.

Akiko (not her real name), a Japanese inmate, was preparing an afternoon tea, and the smell of butter heated in a frying pan was incongruous with the idea of incarceration. Some of the other women, all Caucasians, were standing around talking and helping her. Akiko told me, in a manner unfettered by self-pity, that she had been sentenced to six and a half years.

June (also a pseudonym) showed me the knitted dolls that she had made for a wedding present. She had been using her private personal computer to write stories, compiled by a group of writers and editors for publication. All the bedrooms in the unit bear the unique personal effects and touches of the inmates. In some units, the inmates are allowed to bring their children to stay with them.

Each prisoner receives a weekly budget to purchase necessities at the store. Anderson claims this is an important part of normalization, where the prisoners are accountable for their own actions. They even do their own cooking, cleaning and laundry. This system was not unanimously well-received.

One inmate, who had been top of her cooking class and was to be released soon, admitted she preferred the system in old Fairlea Prison where the chores were all done for them, leaving them free to do their work or go to classes. She took her studies seriously and looked forward to working as a chef when she reentered the community outside.

The prison's education center employs teachers from the local Technical and Further Education college, and offers a variety of courses. Apart from certificate courses, including basic use of computers, the inmates can take craft and carpentry courses. The carpentry class has even built a playhouse in the playground next to the swimming pool.

Courses often have to be delivered creatively. Literacy is done through drama, where the students read and act out plays, instead of sitting in a classroom throughout the whole course.

The medical center is staffed by registered nurses 24 hours a day. More serious or specialist services are available from doctors outside the prison. The management provides transportation. The center also handles drug and alcohol-related problems. Professional and volunteer staff counsel on stress and anger management.

What happens when prisoners break the rules?

Anderson explained that the prison uses the internal hearing system already in place in Victoria. For a minor charge such as hitting without causing serious injuries, the prisoner will face the governor's (in this case the manager's) hearing; if proven to blame, she will be fined and her privileges taken away for a specific period.

In cases of serious breaches of regulations, the police will have to be called in and the prisoner will face the Commissioner of Correctional Services, who will then take appropriate action.

Except for the high-security A Unit prisoners, who are locked up in cells, the other inmates are virtually free to move from unit to unit during the day. The sobering part is the realization that the compound is surrounded by an extremely secure electronic fence.

Even with the mock village arrangement -- town square in the middle of the compound, telephone booths for the inmates to use, a swimming pool and a leisure center nearby -- the prisoners are still locked up. Continual monitoring by cameras, officers during industry activities, educational activities, even medical checkups, are stark reminders that the inmates are not free.

"No matter how easy you make it for them, the fact is these women have to stay whether they like it or not, and live in confined places with people not of their own choices," Anderson said. "Some have had to leave their family behind. No, it is not all nice and easy."

Having worked in public correctional services for 13 years before taking up his position at the Metropolitan Women's Correctional Center, Anderson is no doubt aware of the Correctional Policy and Management Standards. In the September 1995 issue published by Victoria's Department of Justice, it is clearly outlined that those responsible for managing prisons and supervising prisoners must ensure prisoners are not further punished for their crimes while in a prison, over and above the sentence imposed by the Court.

No, it is not a holiday resort. Not for the inmates.