Thursday June 26, 2008
Dignity of rehab
By A. ANON
The negative perception of drug rehabilitation centres is put to the test when a drug user is placed in one such facility. In this final instalment of his three-part story, the writer narrates his experiences at Pusat Serenti Gambang.
I had treated with trepidation the court order which required that I stay in Pusat Serenti Gambang (PSG) in Pahang, not knowing what to expect in this new environment when I first arrived in November 2005.
The sight of unsmiling auxiliary policemen at the front post, and two tough-looking inmates at the carwash next to it glaring at me, further added to my anxiety.
But I was to discover in the course of time that the much-resented “two-year incarceration for forced treatment and rehabilitation” wasn’t so bad.
I was fortunate to be around at a time when positive forces were at work and the centre was changing for the better.
I was first sent to a detoxification cell where I was to spend two weeks.
For security reasons, the detox cells were like typical police lock-ups; with iron-bar doors and grilles along the corridor.
However, they were a lot more comfortable – airy, with clean tiles, a proper bathroom and toilet and none of the stench associated with detention cells.
Here, there were indications that the pusat serenti was going to be different from what I had experienced in the police lock-up and prison – a change for the better.
The first thing that struck me was the general disposition of the officers.
At the registration office, I had seen the slogan, “Mesra Kakitangan Mesra Penghuni” (Amicable staff leads to amicable inmates) printed on the wall.
I was to discover that it was a creed the officers lived up to.
In retrospect, that was one key element which brought about a relaxed atmosphere where inmates were genuinely respectful of the officers, and consequently were more willing to cooperate.
Fair treatment
If there was a single person to be credited for all the affirmative action and events in PSG, it had to be the commandant, Abdul Ghani Abdul Rahman. He was someone who genuinely cared for the welfare of the inmates, and this was reflected through his words and actions.
By being kind, patient and fair, he was respected by all the inmates – no mean feat considering the types of personalities who were sent there.
However, Ghani, who was previously a senior officer at the Batu Gajah prison, could also be firm and decisive when the situation required it – as seen in actions taken against some of the troublemakers.
Measures were taken to reduce the number of runaways. They comprised almost entirely of newcomers: inmates who were still resentful of the court order and had yet to adapt to the new environment.
Newcomers, light-heartedly known as botak (baldie, for obvious reasons), would be placed in the “orientation” hostels for around three months. There was tighter security, with discipline and physical activities being emphasised.
Among other things, these red-shirted Phase One inmates had to attend religious, moral and motivational classes. Plus that staple in all government rehabilitation centres – marching drills.
To give hope and motivate, it was emphasised that inmates would not necessarily be held for two years.
Instead, a system based on merit would be used where inmates might be discharged after 13 months.
However, demerit points would be given for indiscipline.
In serious cases, inmates would be transferred to another centre. Or worse, to the dreaded pusat tega (centre for the incorrigible) – a special block situated in Kajang Prison and handled by the National Anti-Drugs Agency (AADK).
Towards the end of 2005, floodlights were installed.
More importantly, by early 2006, new anti-climb fencing was erected around the hostels and the main areas.
As a result, the number of escapees was drastically reduced.
These measures also made it difficult for the kuda (runners) to go out as they pleased.
The blatant siphoning of foodstuff by the kitchen crew was checked since it could no longer be smuggled out with ease and sold.
It was also near impossible to go out to distant places and return in time with drugs.
Closing an eye
Despite these measures, three substances still found their way inside: tobacco, thinner and yeast – an essential ingredient for making samsu (moonshine).
The practice of inhaling thinner from a plastic bag was of particular concern to the officers and non-using inmates.
The user would “blank out” and turn idiotic for a few minutes, unaware of his surroundings and blabbering nonsense. Most of the cases sent to solitary confinement for a two-week stay were related to using thinner.
Samsu was also available during certain periods. This mixture of yeast, rice, fruit juice and water was placed in plastic containers to ferment for a couple of days and hidden in the ceiling, in the bushes or buried.
Despite their previous tendency to abuse substances, there were many inmates who abstained from both alcohol and thinner. Tobacco, however, was another matter: practically everyone smoked. It created a special dilemma for the officers since it was also forbidden at every centre nationwide.
To deal with this problem, they adopted a stance of moderation and tolerance – the hallmarks of Gambang.
While not allowing tobacco, the officers did not go out of their way to search for it. And since no inmate was seen smoking, the issue was left at that.
Moderation and tolerance were also present among the inmates.
It is worthwhile to note that during my stay, there was not a single negative incident with racial or religious undertones.
The centre had started this culture of tolerance by allowing a building to be converted into Buddhist and Hindu temples.
Newcomers unused to this would be startled and confused when they heard mournful chants played over loudspeakers early in the morning, and the smell of incense in the air.
It was indeed a mind-opener when a senior would explain: “They have the right to practise their own beliefs too, don’t you think?”
Keeping busy
The officers were well aware that “An idle mind is the devil’s workshop”, and that worthwhile activities were necessary. There were work projects but most inmates had neglected to do their part due to sheer laziness brought on by a lack of direction.
After the daily morning assembly, only the kitchen crew were active.
The rest would just chat, play cards, watch television or go back to sleep – at nine in the morning! As a result, the centre looked run-down, with unswept leaves on the road and undergrowth everywhere.
It was a fortuitous period for all when a few senior inmates, who had enough clout and persuading skills, decided to do something about the situation. They managed to shame many of the others out of their lethargy, and slowly the work projects came to life.
Encouraged, the officers reciprocated by arranging various activities. There were memorable moments for all with the successful implementation of a sukaneka, water festival, family day and various sporting events.
Spirits were high, general discipline improved and everyone felt fulfilled.
The commandant was pleased with the transformation, and the seniors were rewarded with a three-day trip to Taman Negara in November 2006 (I was also a prefect by then).
But perhaps the most valuable “facility” the centre provided was the opportunity to be what one wanted to. Instead of trying to control every aspect of the inmate’s life as many similar institutions were wont to do, with stifling planned activities from daybreak to bedtime, the officers stood aside and allowed the inmates enough freedom.
For instance, while they would persuade and remind the Muslim inmates about religious obligations, they did not use threats of punishments when these were not observed.
Of course, many inmates took advantage of this to neglect their prayers. But many others did so of their own free will – and more.
The officers would also frequently emphasise and prod inmates on the need to maintain and improve things with their family and loved ones, and made it easy to write and receive letters.
This policy was the exact opposite to that of the Pengkalan Chepa prison where prisoners would be given a cold stare and sarcastic words should he dare to request it.
Time passed by quicker in this relaxed atmosphere, and 13½ months later, the big day arrived. After more than 16 months, I was looking forward to going home. But I had not expected to also be misty-eyed about leaving Pusat Serenti Gambang.
It’s not totally over yet for there is still the two-year supervision and reporting to account for. And the journey towards full rehabilitation is an ongoing process that will continue for a lifetime.
Related stories:
Jailhouse blues
Forces at work
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