Iwahig prison

Ever since reading Marching Powder, a tale of one British guy’s experience behind bars in a Bolivian jail – which ultimately resulted in profitable prison ‘tours’ – the darker side of my curiosity had been desperately wanting to visit somewhere similar. So, you can imagine my delight, upon reading about Iwahig Prison and Penal Farm, an ‘open’ penitentiary on the island of Palawan. It was with a healthy mix of excitement and trepidation that Sarah, a nice Brazilian girl called Daniella and myself set off by motorised tricycle towards our destination.

We reached the (wide open)  prison gate and headed past the two sleepy guards who barely registered our existence, let alone check our ID, note down our names, or even search our bags! This is a prison?! Insane. We bounced along a rocky track, flanked by beautiful forested mountains and wide open fields. Surely an incongruous setting for a prison, not to mention rubbing their faces in it! It must make imprisonment even tougher when the ‘free’ world looks so wonderful. After a few minutes, a large building with “Minimum security” emblazoned on the roof came into view. However, it seems we were headed for bigger things as our driver hurtled past and continued down the track. After two minutes and we came to a manicured grassy square, around which were a wooden church and other large wooden buildings. It appeared we’d arrived in the American deep south in the 1940s! This was not what we were expecting.

A prisoner greeted us as we pulled up next to the biggest building. This in itself was an unusual event. This guy was milling around in the sunshine, soaking up the afternoon rays. Where was his cell? Or at the least, his guard? In fact his prisoner status was only denoted by his orange “minimum security” t-shirt. Otherwise he appeared to be a local tourist. We entered the building and were greeted by other smiley jailbirds and rows upon rows of trinkets, carvings, paintings and all manner of souvenirs. As we wondered what the hell was going on in this place, the prisoners buzzed around us, churning out sales patter. This was all very bizarre, surely we had come to enage with the prisoners , not buy tat to take up valuable backpack space? How was such a blatant capitalist venture allowed to flourish in prison? Surely this is all an unorthodox plan by the Philippines government to help boost the national coiffeurs?  Although a bit confused, we played along for the time being, hoping prisoner interaction would occur after the attempted money-making.

As we walked towards the end of the hall, pop music, 90s band Steps of all people, suddenly blasted out of speakers. Simultaneously, multiple prisoners appeared from nowhere, jumped into position and launched into a choreographed dance routine! All we could do was gawp in stunned surprise as these flamboyant young men gyrated to the music. I noticed next to the stage a poster asking for donations for the “Thriller” dancers of Iwahig prison. Now it all made sense, this was the prison which achieved worldwide “fame” when hundreds of inmates performed a structured dance to MJ’s hit, the video going viral on the Internet. And now the entrepreneurial authorities were cashing in on this fame!

A little bewildered by all this, we sat down with a bottle of water to try and make some sense of this. No-one still seemed like they wanted to chat with us, except an older prisoner who was keen to sell us cigarettes for the prisoners. Considering we had refused to buy any souvenirs, we hoped buying some smokes would help grease their vocal chords. And surprise, surprise, it worked! Albert, a 26 year old prisoner (although he looked 10 years older, which is rare for a Filipino) sat with us and after some perfunctory chit-chat began to tell us his life story. He had been in prison since he was 16 and still had 4 years left. Sarah and I looked at each other. Should we ask why? Of course we had to. Albert candidly informed us that he had killed someone to protect his German employer. So just like that I was having my first conversation with a known murderer. I had previously thought that sharing a conversation with someone who had killed, would be at the very least, awkward. However, Albert was so matter-of-fact about the event, he had no shame or pride about it, it just came down to one thing – loyalty. Even though Albert had lost 10 years of his life to prison, you could tell this extreme form of devotion was paramount to him and I had a strong feeling he would do the same again, no question. Other than the murdering part he was nice guy! He had learnt good English through interaction with tourists (which he also used to hone his flirting technique with Daniella) and we were able to quiz him about this bizarre prison system in place. Albert explained that all prisoners start jail life as maximum security, but only over time and with good behaviour can prisoners earn medium and the minimum status and the privileges this brings. Also, the money made from sales in the prison, goes towards financing prisoners when they fly the nest, hopefully minimising their chances of re-offending. I can definitely see the logic in this, maybe the Philippines government does know what it’s doing.

After an hour or so of chewing the fat with Albert, we spoke to some other prisoners. The older guy was in for life (which he didn’t seem too down about, I suppose he’s had time to accept it) for drug trafficking – Asia seems to take a harder line on potential deaths than real ones. We spoke to other guys about their families and it seems many of them have fathered children whilst in prison. Now either their wives aren’t telling them something, or conjugal rights are very much alive and well in the Philippines prison system. Going by what I’ve seen and heard here, I favour the latter explanation. One prisoner – who happened to be the best dancer – openly told us in front of all his peers that he was gay. I’m pretty sure this wouldn’t have been received well (excuse the pun) in a U.K. prison, but the other prisoners joked about it, Albert even called him his “secret wife.” It’s great to see the Filipino open-mindedness is alive and well even in such an intense space as prison.

Although we were originally disappointed not to have interacted with prisoners in their cells or the yard, it was certainly an enlightening afternoon, one of those experiences you just couldn’t have in the Western world. After waving goodbye to our new jailbird buddies, they played us out with a super-camped up dance to Backstreet Boys. It seems the infectious Filipino love for life has even penetrated incarcerated world of prison.