Labelled a Black Villain by Hercules Trevor Campbell Duncan

Author:Hercules, Trevor, Campbell, Duncan [Hercules, Trevor, Campbell, Duncan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781909976696
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Waterside Press
Published: 2020-01-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Consciousness

As the van pulled-up outside the massive gates I knew we had arrived at Wandsworth. Whether I would be staying for long I wasn’t sure, but I knew that I would be here for at least a few weeks. Wandsworth has a reputation throughout the prison system for unpleasantness. Its whole regime is in fact geared to that end so that it can serve as a punishment prison to which prisoners are sent from all over the southern region.

I was passed through the reception, then taken to the block, where I was told I would be seeing the governor in the morning. I was so tired I lay down on the bed and slept without changing. During the governor’s round in the morning he stopped off at my cell and told me in no uncertain terms that my unruly behaviour wouldn’t be tolerated in his prison, and that as for spitting at his officers, any such act would be dealt with by physical violence to my person. Throughout this tirade I looked straight in his eyes, but when he referred to physical violence to my person I looked at the burly screws who were with him and at the ones who stood at the sides of my door. They were definitely not smiling: I knew they would carry out the governor’s threat and probably enjoy it. When he had finished I began to talk both calmly and politely, saying that if a prison like Albany practised racial bias by filling the worst shops in the prison with black inmates without much chance of getting out, then there was bound to be friction. While still in mid-sentence the door was slammed in my face and the governor carried on his rounds. I stayed in the block for another week before being put back into the main wing.

The sewing of mailbags is always associated with prison but so far during my sentence I had not seen one, much less sewn one. Here in Wandsworth everybody sewed mailbags. I was given a long thick needle and some heavily waxed thick black thread that looked like laces from someone’s shoes and along with the rest of new starters I was shown how to sew mailbags. We sat in rows sewing and were not allowed to talk or smoke while working. A screw sat in a kind of pulpit-like box that was raised several feet in the air, and if you had any query or question you raised your hand — and that included asking to go to the toilet. The three weeks that I spent there were some of the most depressing of my whole life. There was never any sign of people being at ease, everyone looked so dejected.

The small transistor radio I had was now broken, and with it my one comfort, my one reminder that there was a different world outside these prison walls was gone. The days seemed endless and I lapsed into a dreamy state, not knowing whether I was coming or going or what the time was or what day of the week it was.

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