Life at Liverpool Prison as an Asylum Seeker

This is a brief story of the horrors that I experienced at HMP Liverpool prison as an asylum seeker.

     After the initial interview at Oakington for ten days, I was told there were not enough places to house us and hence I would be further detained. Moreover, the reason was because I was young, single not married, with no close relatives in UK and thus likely to abscond. At first I was taken to Manchester and after spending a night there I was transferred to HMP Liverpool. I arrived at the gates in the early morning in July 2001; the shock and dismay just left me without words. I could not believe my eyes as I was escorted through the high gates and into the high walls of the tight security confinement. Thoughts of prisons in my country filled my mind with terror and anguish.

     I was asked my name, occupation and other particulars, and the wardens were really amused that I was an accountant. Later I was ushered into another waiting room where after several hours I was given lunch or dinner as they call it here in UK, a lump of rice pudding, two potatoes and two slices of bread. I asked for some water as I have a problem with swallowing food and I was given dirty sink water, which tasted so awful I nearly vomited. I poured it and had to drink tap water. I was with three other companions who due to the idea of being in jail could not even bring themselves to eat.

     Later I was taken to another waiting room, where my photograph was taken, and I was issued with an identity with my name and prison number. This horribly resembled the prison movies I had watched where the prisoner had to hold a board with the number at chest and taken pictures facing all the sides. I was then asked to strip naked and taken for a compulsory shower with my colleagues and this was done in a communal open showers while the other prisoners just passed by making all manner of lewd jokes. It was so humiliating; I ceased to think of my dignity at that point. I simply vowed to tug on with life and not think of myself any more. I was then given prison uniform, some ill fitting tracksuit, a jumper, some underwear, and a pair of heavy shoes. I was further escorted to another waiting room where I met a doctor who simply asked me if I had ever tried to hurt myself. I nearly said yes, as thoughts of suicide were now heavy on my head. I said no, hoping this was just a bad dream.

    I was finally escorted to a cell, passing other prisoners who looked at me with some lusty eyes while others just smiled with murderous eyes. I was utterly scared, and terrified. And to my horror I entered my habitation for I didn’t know till when. It was such a small enclosure, from one end to the other I could not make five steps! There was only the bed with a thin mattress, table with a chair, and a toilet, and then the huge metallic door was shut behind me with such a bang I shuddered.

     Luckily, I had a colleague in my cell, from Cameroon, who gave me a brief induction and shocked me when I learnt he had been there for five months. That night I could not sleep, and indeed the next two weeks. I was however given a two-pound worth of a telephone card and told I could only make at most three phone calls in a week at certain hours only. I tried to call my solicitor and a friend and all my money finished on the answering machines.

      I was only allowed to leave my cell, during meal times, exercise time, which lasted for only one hour. Most days it rained or the weather was not conducive and hence we were not allowed to leave the cells. This was horrible as it meant being in the cell for about 23 hours out of 24 hours in a day. With nothing to do for a long period of time, the only thing one thought of was suicide. Slowly it dawned on me, I might not leave the place for a long time and I began to panic and all manner of sickness began to affect me, I had terrible migraine headaches and I lost appetite.

     Once in a week on Thursday’s, we were allowed to shower, in communal bathrooms, and once in a fortnight we would attend the gym or play football, for 45 minutes only. Moreover, every Sunday upon application one would attend a church service or go to the mosque. Furthermore on every occasion we were highly guarded, checked up with hands lifted, as if we were planning an escape. Worse still, was the way the landing officers treated us. They shouted, abused, insulted and used immoral language creating a sense of despondence, and fear in us. We were humiliated, and threatened, and made to look like we were mentally sick. It was especially worse for those who could not speak English as there were no interpreters in the prison.

     Sometimes we would do some simple factory work. This time we would talk, afford to laugh and just share news and new ideas, and once we planned a hunger strike, which was very successful. At the beginning of August for five days the whole asylum block did not taste any food, till the governor spoke to us. The worst problem in prison was communication. First, everything one needed, if it was to see a chaplain, doctor, a visit or any complaint, an application had to be made. This consequently took time as it had to be approved by various officers. I made applications over ten times to see a chaplain, and by the time I left the prison, I had not been able to see him. After every two nights, alarm bells would rake the air as officers rushed to rescue poor asylum seekers who could not take it any more and were committing suicide. Every night one could hear people crying and others praying, some screaming and others shouting throughout the night in frustration. It was horrible as inmates fought and others quarrelled, and the officers shouting all over the place like a mad house while others banged on the metallic doors in distress and depression. During meal times, people would splash food on the floor in disgust as many foreigners were not used to the English food and their complaints were rudely laughed at. The doctor was one of the strangest people there. For any form of illness he seemed to have only some yellow and white tablets.

     One day I had a bail hearing, and for once I was really delighted to be able to see the outside world, and a chance I might get my freedom. However, to my horror the van that was to transport me to court was more hideous than the prison cell itself. The van had a cage like compartment made to fit two seats, with a door and a lock for each seat, hence one would be seated caged in the seat. I cannot possibly describe the feeling, as it was the most revolting experience I was subjected to in my life. Moreover I was going to court for a distance that took six hours to and from. And worst still the van broke down on our way back, and I was forced to remain in the cage for an extra one hour. Tears just flowed uncontrollably when I got back to my cell finally. I was so traumatised the thoughts of what happened to me that day still haunt me to this day. I was moreover refused bail on that occasion.

    My life in Liverpool Prison was terrible. I am most grateful for my friends who never gave up on me, and finally I obtained Bail and was released. I am in college now studying Business Finance and Accounts, a diploma course, hoping to be a responsible member of the society. Although I’m out of Liverpool prison, I still have to sign on at the police station weekly, and I’m still waiting for my asylum appeal.