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NEWS & LETTERS, April 2002   

From the Texas gulag

The Allred gulag is one of the largest prisons in Texas, following a model plan used for dozens of units statewide. Thousands of men are housed here, but you would not know that by looking around. In the corridors, halls, and outdoor runways, deathly stillness, peace, and quiet reign. Once an hour or so, you may see a human wearing a gray uniform scurrying one way or the other. These are guards going to and from scheduled breaks.

The reason for the lack of activity is a "lockdown," a nasty, horrible, infamous word used in the correctional community to mean a total and complete freeze on inmate movement and activity.

No inmate is allowed out of his cell except for dire medical emergency. That's it! No recreation, no chow- hall, no visits with family and loved ones, no phone calls, no television, nothing. NOTHING!  

Showers twice a week for three and a half minutes.  The shower is a cage, which is padlocked the entire three and a half minutes. That's right; you are naked and showering in a padlocked animal cage.

Clean underwear twice a week. Clean sheets every three weeks. You are reading this while I sit on dirty sheets wearing dirty underwear in a tiny closet. Did I say dirty?  I mean downright filthy. The pen, the joint, the Big House-you may think it's cool. Shit it ain't cool; it's filthy. Dirt seeps through vents, through cracks in the wall, and under the door. Prisons are dirt-filed places, unclean and unsanitary.

The situation is made worse because we are provided no cleaning supplies to clean our tiny little cell.  Don't misread this. I did not say cleaning supplies once a month. I said none at all. Think about your toilet, sink, floor, and walls if you had no Comet, Lysol, broom, mop or rags for months. What would they look like? What the hell would they smell like?

Guess where we eat? Yes sir! Right there in the same place we piss, crap, sneeze, cough, fart, vomit, and sleep. The very same place which is never cleaned and sanitized.

You're not going to believe this, but possession of prisoner-made detergent used in the kitchens or of prisoner-made disinfectant used over in the clinic is a major disciplinary infraction. If you like to kill germs and diseases before eating your food, it could cost you two extra years of your life in prison. Think about filthy, dirty, germ-covered food next time you pack a gun or boost those tapes from WalMart.

But don't stop there. It is so easy for me to digress. These cells are small, small, small. Two men are squeezed into every one of them. We're talking 24 hours a day, seven days a week for week after week.

Our food? Put half a spoonful of peanut butter between two slices of bread which sat out all night.  Put a slice of bologna on two more identical slices. Put all of that in a brown sack and take it outdoors. Do you know how to dribble a basketball? Dribble the ball for a while on the sack. Now you have prepared lunch.

Go to your nearest gas station and unpack your lunch on the restroom floor. Gobble up! Enjoy! Six hours later you get another sack. Guess what the difference is from lunch? This one is called "supper."

Far be it from me to complain though. Cause breakfast includes a treat. Six scrawny old prunes. Chow time! Oh boy!

Have I mentioned lonely? Do you know what lonely means? Not until you are locked in that tiny bathroom with your idiot cellmate who you want to strangle. No other contact at all with genuine humans. Everything you see, feel and hear is hard. Hard concrete, hard steel, hard crying in the night, hard bread on your sandwiches. No smiles, tears, babies, fun, laughter or clean comfortable clothes.

This hard environment is true isolation. It is called lockdown. Read my lips: No contacts, no phone calls, no visits, no mother. Try going two little bitty weeks;  no, just go for two measly days without speaking to one single friend, loved one, homeboy, not even the checkout person at the grocery store.

It's hard. But that is true loneliness. You are all by yourself. No one gives a rat's ass about you.  And even if they do care, you will never know it.

Enjoy your stay! Dirty, hard, lonely. Lockdown!

-Michael S.

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