Even jail can be home

Edgar Eniego was sent to the Puerto Princesa City Jail for an attempted hold-up of a local merchant. He experienced first-hand the dark depths of incarceration, attacked and beaten almost from the moment he entered the jail. He began to think that that was the natural state of things, with each inmate paying back–or paying forward–the beating he himself received when he arrived.

Actually, Edgar may have been beaten more than most when he first got to jail. But he had a little good luck too because Puerto Princesa City Jail was on the verge of some major changes in attitudes, rules, and procedures. It was already a cut above many other jails, maybe just because it was in Palawan, where things are a little more relaxed: people don’t worry much about crime, so the jail could be a little more casual, a little more like a community. It could have generous visiting hours, and even conjugal rooms. The visiting area was outside, shaded by a large tree and a roofed area, so it felt free and open to visitors. It was common to see small children running around, babies being rocked in hammocks, school girls in their uniforms laughing and joking with inmates. Not so bad.

And he had visitors. His girlfriend was there everyday, bringing him food. And he was quickly noticed as a different sort of prisoner. Edgar had been a student at the state university, which is right next door to the jail, and classmates visited him regularly during those first months. Some of his classmates told one of the guards that he’d been at the top of his class in Civil Engineering. He was polite, even respectful, and good natured.

The lowest days in what turned out to be a five-year detention came towards the end of Edgar’s first year, when his girlfriend left to go back to Manila and get on with her life.

She promised she’d be back, but I knew better than to expect that. I’d seen enough in jail in my one year there. Once you get jailed, you soon begin to lose things: your liberty, your money, material things, then your friends, eventually your children and then your wife and finally your self-esteem and, if you are not strong enough, your sanity. Perhaps that is part of the punishment, part of being jailed, and I’ve come to accept that.

So I knew that was bound to happen to us. I surrendered my claim to her. In jail nothing could be worse than waiting–and it’s worse when you are waiting for nothing.

He began to accept his fate and turn his attention to actually living inside the jail, where inmates without visitors remained in their cells, and all inmates were locked up at night, under the glare of bright lights, and cells were hot and crowded. Nevertheless, he recognized that these were people, like himself, and men who had also had girlfriends and wives and lives. With little to do, the inmates talked away long hours–and Edgar learned much about life, about hard times, about crimes and jails all over the country.

When the mist cleared up, I began to look around and notice for the first time another world which I had utterly ignored. It was ragged, forlorn, but otherwise livable. And hope sprouted from my heart. I found a new world.

It was at least a comfort to know that you live with inmates inside the cell and are given time at least once a week to stretch your bones and see the sun. But it was more than just that in Puerto Princesa City Jail.

It seemed to me to be just a small, isolated community where once in a while friends visit you from far away places. Some of my fellow inmates compared it to a trans-oceanic liner in which we were seamen: once in a while we docked in interesting ports and then went back to sea again. And when finally we came ashore for good, we’d get robbed and lose all the money we worked for and go to our families empty handed.

In 1998, when Edgar was in his second year in jail, one of the custodial officers, JO1 Augusto Maceda, instituted a leadership training program, with the support of warden Inspector Ronaldo Senoc. Maceda was concerned with the impression of outsiders that jail inmates are 100 % bad, like this woman from whom he was soliciting funds for the jail who asked why he was wasting his time trying to help these people who were simply evil.

He saw clearly that this kind of attitude contributed to the cycle of release and return: former inmates were given so few breaks when they rejoined society that all they could do was resort to crime, and end up back in jail.

Maceda was also concerned with the self-image of the inmates. He sensed as well the tremendous potentials, talents in different areas, among the jail population. So he held a seminar for selected inmates, including Edgar, whom he thought showed the potential to lead. He invited outside experts to facilitate, and after two such seminars, helped set up the Lingkod Detenado Executive Council.

Five committees were formed under the council, including Peace and Order, Livelihood, Ways and Means, Health, and Physical Arrangements. The council was presided over by the inmates’ own chief trustee. This important and privileged office was not appointed by the warden, but elected by the inmates. The position of cell mayor was also elective.

Maceda set up a planning seminar for the council, which then drew up a plan for various activities from livelihood programs to sports tournaments, and budgeting strategies, which were then presented to the warden for dialogue and approval. He began asking Edgar to help draft letters for soliciting funds.

Chess came first, and then basketball, both starting as inter-jail tournaments with the Provincial Jail and Iwahig. The first inter-jail chess tournament was held in Mendoza Park in the heart of town.

Eventually, as trust grew, inmates started to play with outside groups. They joined the Puerto Princess Chess Association, and became the City Jail Chapter, with Edgar as president.

They set up a boxing team which eventually guested in barangay fiestas in the area. The boxers trained hard and could sometimes be seen from the national highway as they ran laps on a make-shift oval on the roof of the jail. There were even benefit dances to raise funds for some of the teams and activities.

Then came educational programs, starting with the home schooling scheme of Angelicum College instituted by Sr. Cenny of Holy Trinity College in Puerto Princesa. Edgar was already a high school graduate but took the courses anyway–and got perfect scores on all the tests!

The Puerto Princesa School of Arts and Trades (PPSAT) began offering a tesda-accredited course in electrical technology, which Edgar also took. Other technical courses followed. There was soon talk about City Jail University!

As he got more involved in this work, Maceda’s contributions to the jail were noticed and he was named Rehabilitation Officer, although he still carried his other designations like Administrative Officer. Somewhat later he was made full-time rehab officer, a position that had always been in the structural charts but never filled.

By that time Edgar was helping Maceda with all the paper work and various planning and implementation tasks. Maceda often brought him out of the jail to meet on organizational matters or borrow equipment from the university or fix something up somewhere. Edgar was eventually made a utility trustee and moved out of the cell and into the office, where he could function more independently.

Maceda himself is a locally trained officer, having finished Criminology at Holy Trinity College in Puerto Princesa City. He was a student leader and activist, and also worked as a security guard while studying. He first got into jail work in Bulacan, but soon after was back in Puerto Princesa City Jail. His relationship with the inmates is very natural: the observer can easily tell that he likes them, and is truly concerned about their welfare. And he is full of ideas for furthering that welfare.

And that is the essence and spirit of these programs–to promote the well-being and self-esteem of the inmates. It is worth noting that in all the activities conducted outside the jail, with only one guard escorting several inmates, there have been no escapes. For how could the inmates betray the trust that was so freely given them? Doubt begets doubt, trust begets trust. Inmates are not evil people; they know how to return love.

With the changes in internal structures and inmate activities, healthier living conditions and a better atmosphere were also fostered: better facilities for water storage were provided, and more sleeping mat, and more electric fans. Tasks like washing plates and cleaning toilets were assigned on a systematic rotation basis instead of simply being part of the burden of the newest detainee.

And slowly, as inmates realized more and more control over their own lives and environment, the violence that traditionally greeted newcomers was naturally curbed. Eventually the practice of beating new inmates gave way to the "welcome paddle", which was one stroke of the balila on the back of the legs. Soon even this was eliminated.

By the time Edgar had been in City Jail for nearly five years, he felt that he was living a meaningful life there.

And so I beheld this new world which taught me so many things that I couldn’t have learned otherwise. I learned to let go of the past and live in the present. This was my world. I resigned myself to my fate. I began to accept the fact that I had to stay here for awhile; for how long, was uncertain. And so peace of mind and heart dawned upon me and I ceased longing for home–for awhile. For I knew I had found a new home.

I never cursed the jail, ever. Yes, it was a hard place to live in, so much misery and loneliness, but it all depends on what you do with the situation you are in. It’s how you exploit all the good things that are there, how you make use of your time, how you make the best out of it–making lemonade out of lemons. Jail either worsens a man or betters him–it’s how the man takes it.

They say that once you’ve been jailed, it taints your image for life. But it never tainted my life, it just tinted it.

So I went home and found my place in my old world, going back to school and, within less than a semester, was back at the top of my class. I kept going back to the jail, but not as an offender; this time, as a friend. I’ve been with those people for years and know them so well. I lived and felt and thought like them, and now that I am free, I want to show them I’m still with them in spirit and that I will never forget.

Edgar Eniego served five years in Puerto Princesa City Jail, from 1997 to 2002. He is now out of jail and back in Palawan State University, where he is a third year Civil Engineering student and doing very well.

Susan Evangelista, who retired to Palawan after 30 years at the Ateneo, met Edgar when she helped out with the Home Schooling Program in City Jail. She invited him to live with her and her husband when he got out of jail so that he could go back to school.