What an experience in a police cell

would never want to be.
Being shut away in a cell is popularly known as “kubhureya”, “kungonjwa”, “kuvharirwa” or “kupinda muchizarira”.
Male and female suspects do not share the same cubicles.
Kusina amai, kusina amai kunerima,
Ah Jehovah chindibatsirai, oh
Pindirai Yahweh ndave pamusha uye usina mai,
Zvapedza pfungwa dzachiremba zvikakona,
Pindirai mwari, sang the legendary Simon “Chopper” Chimbetu and the trailblazing Orchestra Dendera Kings in this song called Kusina Amai, off the album Pachipamwe. True to the song, life away from the parental nest is fraught with challenges and being in police custody is surely not comfortable.
Gentle reader, inmates in a police cell resemble birds as they are ordered to remove jackets, belts, neckties and shoes on arrest. A policeman told this writer that this is done to ensure suspects do not commit suicide.
Vamwe vanodzorwa voda kuzviuraya, hanzi kana riri shura regai ndiritangire. If one inmate is visited, they share the little food available and are not ashamed to ask the visitor to advise their relatives to bring more food.
“E-eh please ask my brother to withdraw the charges he levelled against me. Ndayaura kuno. Please convince him to forgive me,” one suspect told Ghetto Blast while fighting back tears.
“Mudhara yangu ndeyekutengesa Bronco. Sotai mundibhadharire faindi tozoona yekutamba ndabudiswa muno,” another suspect said while holding a cigarette in one hand as the other was lifting his trousers above the waistline.
Doors to police cells are kept under lock and key.
They are only opened when a new suspect is entering or when one is being taken to court.
But each time the door is opened, you are greeted by a putrid smell because the toilet inside the room is flushed from outside. There is an unwritten law in the cells that no one may relieve themselves while others watch. You can only use the toilet during visiting times or when it’s time to clean up.
When it’s time to sleep you are supposed to use your side like a knife-edge so that the few blankets in the cell cover everyone. This arrangement is known as “kurara banga”.
Cigarettes, popularly known as musvuto, unite inmates as they will be puffing up while pondering their next move. Wandering anywhere near the cells by unauthorised persons attracts a heavy penalty.
You may even be gunned down for trying to assist people to escape from police custody.
Rape, murder, theft and fraud suspects are lumped together in police cells where suspects fire barbs at each other to while away time. If you are arrested alongside a traditional healer, you will spend the whole night awake if he falls into a trance. Even characters that snore will make your already taxing stay in police custody more awry.
This cage is a world on its own.
There will be lawyers, interpreters and magistrates in the cells who tell other inmates the probable outcomes of the cases they will be facing.
Novices are also told what to write in their warned and cautioned statements.
“Kana uri iwe wekuba mombe wanyura. Wotongosasa kuti wakabatwa uchiitinha kuti isatsikwe nemota kuti zvireruke. Ukapona apa wobva wananga kuchurch,” one inmate was told.
The other one was beaten up for wasting State resources by being arrested for petty crimes like public drinking.
“You are wasting the State’s time. How can you be arrested for such a silly thing. Buda muno. Tipe magumbeze ayo. Wongoti zidzoro.”
Most inmates do not, however, enjoy food provided by the State. Yours truly is informed the food is usually sadza, a pool of watery soup and numerable beans or kapenta. You just eat to keep body and soul intact.
Hard core criminals distinguish themselves by keeping all the good blankets to themselves while confining novices to tattered rags which they have to huddle under for warmth.
These hard core criminals are visited by sweet-looking ladies with chocolate skins who bring them copius amounts of food and have the temerity to shout at policemen because they know their money will buy them freedom.
Though most people in police cells share food, others do not do so because their wives bring them food that is sprinkled with muti to hoodwink policemen.
Even the water they are brought is not shared because it will be from prophets and traditional healers who hold appeasement ceremonies to ensure they steal without being detected.
Stone tables, commonly known as muteuro from apostolic sects, find their way to police stations as people try each trick in the book to have their relatives released. Inside the cells, there will be some self-styled prophets who will be offering their services to other inmates and one wonders how they would have been arrested with such powers under their belts.
Though the cases are minimal, there are reports that homosexuality is rampant in police custody where some suspects have time and again been caught masturbating. Gentle reader, a visit to the cells is full of drama as some suspects are caught with all sorts of muti whose use they always fail to tell the arresting officers.
What an experience it is to visit a police cell.
Inotambika mughetto.