AikoGraphics: Small Prison

After returning my 16-month-long Mukonjo crush's photo to her Bishop Tucker Drive hostel "before 4pm" as she had warned me in a Friday morning ultimatum letter, I walked around Kauga to burn time and also drank two bottles of Stoney Tangawizi.

At sunset, I went to sit at the Mukono Information Office's southeast verandah contemplating how to make her take me back by Valentine's Day 2005 while waiting for the 8pm double-decker Miracle Cathedral bus to take me to Robert Kayanja's church in Rubaga for my second Friday Overnight in a row. I planned to custom-design a T-shirt she asked for, but hadn't picked a colour yet; chose for her white the following week.

Suddenly, four policemen clad in khaki uniforms, but led by a brownskinned man wearing plain clothes came where I was from around the north and east sides. The brown man told me to take off my grey pullover plus UPC-red shirt and give to him, then the rifle-wielding officers held me by the helm of my trousers and carried me to the county jail about one hundred metres away.

The Policeman on duty at the station nearby was in plain clothes and I gave him my Sophomore ID so that he could register my name. As a Lugbara himself and seeing that I was his tribemate, he pleaded for me to be freed. However, the brown guy insisted that I had four crimes to answer: Tresspassing on Government property; drunkardness; resisting arrest and being a suspect for a Monday robbery of 10 computers from the MIO. I felt guilty for only the first offence. I was told to remove my belt (to prevent suicide ideation) plus money, but pretended not to have any cash on me (There was transport money back from Rubaga to UCU in my behind pocket).

Inside the rectangular cell, I found two men: The one lying down on a thin mat in the north end had been brought in on Tuesday for sleeping with a 14 year old girl; he confessed that she asked him for sex and later denied it. Someone gave him a bottle of mineral water. The other guy on my right at the southeast end was a bodaman reported by his love interest for fighting with another bodaman. He confessed that he did not love that woman, but she stuck on him. From the jail cell, we would have to appear before a magistrate in the court on the same route on Monday, but the jailbirds encouraged me that the OC would free me after sunrise.

I fought back tears, but felt like GOD and the woman I loved the most had cursed me. Even my prayers to be released in time so that I can attend the overnight weren't answered. A different campuser was caught and brought to the station, but let go after being told his campusmate was already inside. Campusers abuse policemen a lot, so I was jailed as their scapegoat. However, I planned to let the incident die without telling anyone to stop abusing cops. Nevertheless, I don't hate them because one of my mother's sisters and her husband served in Police while I grew up in Jinja.

In the morning, a beautiful petite Policewoman came to roll call the inmates who had spent the night in jail. We were all present, but what was she doing there with all that attractiveness? The bodaman's stalker also came around and asked if the man was still locked up, "He should stay there until he learns." Apparently, she is the one who reported him and wanted to be the one to release him from jail. Funnily, she looked amorphous. It was not an insult, but reality: Plump, fat, big, whatever you can call it plus the shapelessness attached. Everyone deserves love, but you cannot force people to love you. Accept rejection and move on!

There were no windows in the cell, only a door on the southwest end with bars from the waist up to let in a little light plus a ventilator. It didn't smell though there was a bucket inside for urinating and defecation plus maybe vomiting. I never used it throughout the night.

The OC arrived and I was called out. The brown man who led my arrest was present and told me to squat down. He resembled the Devil I met on Buganda Road the following year. After being let go, I dressed up fully, walked away like Lot and never looked behind until I reached Jinja Road. Then mounted a taxi to Kampala, stayed with my sister in Kyebando before returning to UCU on Sunday afternoon.

At a half basketball court in Afghan (Boys section), I found my freespirited classmate Sharpe shooting hoops, "We looked for you on Friday night in vain."

I joined him to let off steam and we laughed about my arrest.

LESSONS:

Change your mindset, perspective or way of thinking...

Mindshifting is a choice...

Depression is not a monster...

There is life after prison...

Adopt a new mental framework...

Develop alternative thinking...

Practise super-calmness (mental peace)...

Build a foundation for resilience...

Detach yourself from feeling sorry about your demise...

Mr. Jailer, stop calling me a Prisoner! Let he who is without sin be the first to cast the stone... (Asa; JAH Cure)

Pray for accelerated release...

Life happens in the mind, think it out...

Time sets captives free...

Find joy in old memories (good times) and future possibilities...

Block negativity...

Suicide is not an option...

Since I was a relatively quiet or reserved person and sometimes isolated myself from society, I thought of my arrest as another hiding moment, not a tragedy... That kept me safe...

Look forward to leaving the jail cell...

There is no happiness on earth to compare with that which a beautiful and fruitful mind finds in a propitious hour within itself... (Arthur Shopenhauer)

Synthetic happiness is inversely more limitless than natural happiness...

Think positive...

Chillax...

The idea that depression is a disease is garbage... (Andrew Tate)

Accept your mistakes and learn...

Freedom is a choice...

Control your reactions; do not be emotionally volatile...

Stay calm and think harder...

Participate in healthy convos...

Do not judge fellow jailbirds...

Serve your time and vacate...

I'm locked up, they won't let me out... (Akon)