You know … most inmates are nothing but a bunch of sissies! Holey hell, I am so sick of these so called mean serial killers, robber’s rapists and their cowardice… Sometimes they remind me of little children. How is it possible for a fully grown man at age33 weighing 100kg and the self-proclaimed hit-man to run to the Gatta’s for protection when someone raises their voice? This happens quite often… others love pulling pranks on people, but can’t handle it when it comes their way… Wow, that amazes me…
Wimpie, our resident tattoo artist is such a case. He claims to be a hit-man, this because he got paid to bump off some old lady's hubby… so this clown gets his china to assist him and then promptly ran away when his china stabbed the old man… Rumour has it that the old guy put up such a fight that Wimpie ran, leaving his mate to do the job… Now he tries so hard to appear a tough guy that he reminds me of a white Martin Lawrence. He strikes me as someone who would try to take over a town on a 125cc motorcycle, just as long as his mate is with him in the side cart…
Most inmates are actually very insecure about themselves. Typically all bark and no bite, as the saying goes. When you combine a chip on the shoulder with this fake bravado, you could get a glimpse of what I have to live with every day. I hate this prison, everyone always trying to bullshit each other!!!
Getting back to what I said in my previous postings, playing the two timing- back stabbing- manipulating game… man I got my revenge and some for being used as a scapegoat. As I mentioned I was the prime suspect in Jan’s shoe-turd saga, after our demonstration of displeasure towards each other, but I was truly innocent of this charge… throughout the day I had various conversations with different inmates regarding a variety of topics, trying to fish a little… the one point that dawned on me was of an incident between Louis and Jan. Apparently Jan ripped him off in a deal with some weed and Louis did not take to kindly to that. He is not an aggressive person and tends to avoid violence in prison. This incident between the two of them got me thinking that he might be the real culprit… the more I thought about it the surer I was that it had to be him! But what can I do about it? I noticed that Louis always walked barefoot in the cell, tends to lean against things and makes his own food… that’s about it…
I came up with this brilliant plan to turn Louis bed into a gigantic bomb. (Like the one I saw in Sun City used for boiling water) I figured this combined with Louis sitting on his bed with his characteristic bare feet should prove interesting. So the next morning I faked an upset stomach so I could sit out the daily touch rugby session, in order to be alone in the cell… I stripped an old radio transformer for the thin copper wire and attached two ends to the bed at opposite sides. The other ends I secured to a 3 point plug in the wall. This is a grand scale bomb that I’m sure the dudes in Sun city would be proud of… the Isinyonga’s are not in sight and I can only wait in anticipation for my master plan to come to glory…
After the daily touch rugby everyone has their showers and is off to their beds to make some coffee. Today was no different and an extremely feminine loud voice screaming “JEEEEEZussss” came from Louis as he received a 230 volt jerk… we all looked toward the origin of the scream in utter fascination and see Louis in a half sitting- half standing position trying to release his bed amidst his electrical woes… I burst out laughing and can hardly contain myself. I’m so pleased my plan worked and Louis instantly recognizes what happened and why! All he says is “well done, you got me.” That was the start of the tit-for-tat I came to love so much in D-unit. Even Jan “Droopy Dog”
It wasn’t long before the Gatta’s in Delta came to know me as someone who loves humour. In prison people cope with their situations in various ways like drugs etc. my preferred tool used is humour and training in the gym.
It is difficult to smuggle anything here in Zonderwater. There is only a handful of Gatta’s willing to risk suspension by bringing in a bol of zol. Cell phones, Rocks and other mainstream drugs are extremely rare. In a prison like this the Bloubaaitjie came up with an alternative. They would request to see a psychiatrist and during the evaluation mention things like lack of sleep, depression and seeing the faces of their victims. All in an attempt to obtain prescription drugs like Rochѐ, Triptonal and Lepponex. This would be crushed and smoked with a Ten or cigarettes. It is an ingenious way of obtaining schedule 6 drugs, and some of them actually change their prescriptions for other items they may need and boast about the prison paying them the value of 9 or 10 packs of Stuyvesant per month…
To be frank, the medical attention and service in this place is atrocious, which explains why the Skelm of seeing the psychiatrist goes by unnoticed so often. It’s often quicker to pay for flu medication than to see the nurse or doctor, and if you get a tooth ache you’re in serious trouble…
It is quite scary though to think how you, the hardworking honest taxpayer is paying for drugs used by inmates to get high on. Supplied by doctors who don’t give a hoot and Gatta’s supposed to be working but instead are sleeping or toy-toying for more money.
Quote of the week: “This country is changing, people are taking comedians seriously and politicians as a joke…”
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