An article written by a man who served 16 years of his life as a warden at Pudu Jail.
I Spent 16 years of my life, from 1980 to 1996, at the 114-year-old Pudu Prison and was really sad to see the walls being torn down on Monday.
I was 19 when I reported for duty as a general duty warden with a salary of RM204. I was slim then but built up my body so that I could open those huge doors and carry the locks that came all the way from England.
I remember working on three shifts and doing my rounds. The cells held up to 18 inmates each.
We experienced a problem when there were too many offenders coming in 1985. The inmates had to take turns to sleep as there was not enough space. The cooks had to provide meals for more than 6,000 people a day.
Stories about the mural being painted by inmates using their fingers and palms are true. They mixed the paint on their palms and used their fingers to paint on the 384m-long and 4.5m-high wall. They were guarded by wardens and did not try to escape.
The inmates had magic fingers and, like true artists, would walk to the middle of the road to get a better view of their work before resuming. For them, those short hours outside gave them a brief taste of freedom.
The inmates did not try to harm us. They understood that we were there to take care of them until they were released or hanged.
It was not easy for us to tell them that they were about to be taken to the gallows. Some would stay calm and prayed while others went through a lot of emotional upheaval.
Some prisoners would empty the pail of water in their cell, turn it upside down and bang on it like a drum the night before they were taken to the gallows.
A day before, they would be allowed to meet their family and were asked what they would like for their last meal. At that time, the meal had to be within RM7.
We were also not allowed to wear watches. This was to ensure that the emotions of the convict would not be disturbed when he saw how much time he had left.
I guarded Malaysia’s most wanted criminal Botak Chin before he was hanged. He was not violent. I also spoke to the notorious Mona Fandey and remember telling her not to use her “supernatural powers” against us.
“Just let us do our duty,” I told her.
As far as I recall, there was only one attempt to escape by a group of seven. They broke the walls but we managed to take control of the situation and separated them.
It was almost impossible for prisoners to escape as the X-shaped building, similar to the Kandy Prison in Bogambia, Africa, made it very tough. Those not familiar with the building could get lost. Some say spirits will then keep them hidden from sight.
There were also fights now and then. Our sources would sometimes inform us of the fights planned and we would separate the groups.
I was on duty during the hostage crisis in 1985. Datuk Ibrahim Mohamed, who was the Prisons director-general then, managed to compel Pang Boon Boo, one of the five, to end the situation. They were afraid to eat at one point and demanded to be given instant noodles thinking that we would spike their food.
I was also tasked with the caning of prisoners. My first experience was in 1985. There were only four wardens who caned prisoners in Pudu Prison. It was as painful for us as it was for them.
Before caning them, we would usually talk to them and tell them it was our duty. Caning had to be done before 9am, when the skin was dry, in the presence of prison officials and a doctor. Some cases were really gruesome, particularly the ones who had to be caned more than 20 times.
In 1985, I guarded the rattan workshop under the prison’s rehabilitation project. I bought a rattan sofa set for about RM200 and it is still in good condition today. Some of the prisoners were very talented.
I married in 1983. My salary then was RM270 a month. Over the years, my family grew and I had to work harder to bring in extra income. I used to bring home fresh chicken and my wife would pack them to be sold to those in our housing area in Bandar Tun Razak.
When you are honest, life will never fail you.
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