A prison without bars

For many, a life of crime is something they get embroiled in and struggle to get out of. Some try and, with a lot of help from Caritas, succeed at rebuilding their shattered lives.

Natalino Fenech looks at what goes on behind the scenes at Dar Sant' Anna, an alternative for prisoners with drug-related problems.

A prison where inmates are trusted to such an extent that the front door is not even locked is inconceivable to most people. But that is the way Dar Sant'Anna, in Bahar ic-Caghaq, has been run for the past seven years. And it has never crossed any of the prisoners' minds to try to escape, though that would be an easy thing to do.

Marthese Borg has been in charge of the place for the past five years. Dar Sant'Anna is in the hands of Caritas and up to 14 prisoners can be accommodated there. Over the past three years, 59 inmates have been through it and there are currently 10 prisoners serving time there.

Prisoners have to serve the first six months of their term at the Corradino Correctional Facility. The most they can spend at Sant'Anna is two years.

Prisoners have to apply to a special board which vets their application. To qualify, prisoners have to have a drug related problem as well as criminal convictions such as theft.

Ms Borg said the programme is not always full as the system needs to be overhauled.

"Some people who want to come here are not eligible because of technical or bureaucratic reasons, not because they would not benefit from it.

"It's not easy for prisoners to come here. They are also assessed by a psychologist who checks their motivation. At Sant'Anna, in spite of the freedom they appear to have, their life is much more structured than it is in prison.

"They can't decide to go and watch a DVD or to have a nap. They have to seek permission to do most of the things that people do in their daily lives without thinking twice about, such as going to the bathroom.

"In prison, sentenced prisoners can phone their relatives or friends quite freely, using their own phone cards. But here they can only have a 15-minute telephone call at a specified time each week and, if they turn up late, they simply lose from their allotted time.

"Essentially we run a programme which we devise with their own input. But then it's set in stone and is scrupulously followed. Each week we decide who will cook, clean, take care of the animals, do the gardening, the maintenance and so forth. We eat together as a community, we discuss issues. We even give them basic education. Most of those who come here are often illiterate.

"We teach them etiquette and the basics of life. We also take them for walks or a swim. A cardinal rule is that they have to be drug free to come here. Then we get to know each one personally and work with them on very personal levels to get them back on track. We use what we call confrontation therapy that makes them realise what's right and wrong. We also work with them spiritually. It's a very important part of therapy," she said.

When the staff see that prisoners are beginning to stand on their own feet, they start giving them some prison leave to visit home, a few hours on a Sunday at first, which could be extended to a full 12 hours.

"It's a question of trust. We can do urine or breathalyser tests if we suspect they were up to no good while they were away. But we rarely have such problems.

"Their primary motivation for coming here is getting out of prison and they know they can very well end up there again. But I strongly believe in working with them. You have to work with them to really get a feel for the basic needs that some of them lack," she said.

Another important aspect of the programme is the contact with their family, which in many cases would have to be restored.

"You'd see kids afraid of getting close to their father. Slowly children will learn to trust them again when they sense they have changed for the better and the effect on the prisoner is very positive too as it rebuilds the bond," Ms Borg said.

Prisoners do a lot of group work, discussing issues and receiving regular counselling. Each resident is assigned a member of staff to work on their psychological, social and medical needs. A calendar of social activities gives them something to look forward to.

Staff from Dar Sant' Anna visit Corradino Correctional Facility twice a week on what is known as an outreach programme to meet those who have been referred to the home. "Some prisoners are so hungry for contact and help that they would want to speak to someone, and we even work with those who don't come here," she said.

Ms Borg said the prisoners at Dar Sant' Anna are very skilled and able in manual work. They built the gym and do all maintenance the home needs as well as construct the furniture.

"They are very creative manually and every now and then they even undertake voluntary work. They are currently doing renovation work on a nearby chapel," she said.

The final part of the programme prepares them for re-entry into society.

"They start going to work in the last three months of their prison term. It's an integral part of their re-entry programme. They still sleep at the home but at this time our staff work with them more closely as they would again start facing the real world with all its problems.

"Aftercare is also available and though they are not obliged to attend after serving their prison term, they can still keep coming for group or individual sessions.

"One of the many problems prisoners often face on their release is where to live. Unless we can find a former prisoner a small flat, he would go back to the den where he lived before. And then it's just a matter of time before the temptation of a life of crime rears its ugly head again," she said.

"Thankfully, we hardly have problems finding them a job. Most of them are very hard working as we inculcate in them a sense of values that many people who never went to prison never had.

"Accommodation is a real problem and we'd appreciate it if someone can lend a helping hand in this respect," she said.

A life of crime left behind

He does not try to justify his actions because of his upbringing and the social context he was brought up in. Yet, he knows it had a strong bearing on his life and partially explains why he spent some 17 years, out of his 43, behind bars. And he still has another two to serve.

John* is one of the prisoners undergoing a rehabilitation programme at Dar Sant'Anna.

His past is very colourful: he was brought up in Strait Street, Valletta, which, though waning, still witnessed some illicit and immoral activity.

"At the age of eight, I used to keep a lookout and when I saw policemen approaching, I'd go round the bars and inform them. Any underage women would be hidden and cards would be put away. My mother owned a bar there and at 2 a.m. I'd go around and would be given some money for tipping them off before the police could catch anyone with one's pants down.

"Some might give you a shilling, a sixpence or even two-and-six. Then I went to sleep on a piece of foam under the bar. If I woke up, all I'd see was some sailor making advances at a prostitute who, on her part, would be trying to distract him so that someone could steal his wallet. The messages I got was that theft was fine."

It was a time of "mandrax - a kind of sleeping pill, and drink" and it was not long before John was popping pills too.

He recalls he used to go to a doctor with some friends, pretend to have a stomach ache, and while the doctor was trying to see what was wrong with him as he twisted and doubled up, feigning pain, his friends would steal the doctor's prescriptions book. Having copied the doctor's rubber stamp and able to forge his signature, the teenagers would run the length and breadth of Malta, visiting pharmacies and buying prescription medicines they would use illicitly.

"Looking back, I think one of my problems was that I was always in the company of men who were much older than me. I grew up too fast and took many wrong turns in my life. I used to go up to a man and pester him for a cigarette and when he'd push me, a group of my friends would beat him up.

"I started smoking cannabis and taking LSD. The illusions LSD created used to make me laugh. But the trips bunged up my mind. They speed you up and you have to take pills to calm down. Then I would get bored again and pop another LSD tablet. It was a vicious circle.

"You'd want to prove yourself to your peers, who were expert thieves. I broke into a kiosk at City Gate, stole some sweets and walked down Republic Street with a tray-full and chocolates over my head. It took only a few minutes to get arrested. I was put on probation, but it was only a matter of time before I ended up in jail.

"We were drinking in Sliema and, not wanting to take a taxi home, we stole a rubber dinghy which we took from Msida to Valletta. The following morning I went to remove the dinghy from where we had moored it and was arrested. I ended up in prison.

"There were a mere 70 prisoners behind bars at that time, in the early 1980s. One laughed at me. He said I had to serve a year-and-a-half for stealing a rubber dinghy worth next to nothing. He was serving a three-year sentence but had hit the jackpot after a burglary at a villa.

"It sets you thinking. I had never touched heroin or cocaine before going to prison. But I got hooked on them there. I also made contact with a man who used to sell drugs and who told me to look him up when I was out. I ended up working for him, acting as his security man while he dealt in heroin. He called it brown sugar and I could have as much as I liked. There was a time I was consuming more than three grammes a day. It was all for free and I got well paid for protecting him. I felt like a king, eating at good restaurants and going to posh hotels as my boss often met clients there. Having a gun in your pocket and coke in your head makes you feel invincible," he said.

"But things don't always remain rosy. I was thieving all the time and that too becomes an addiction. I recall instances when I had Lm700 in my pocket and I'd steal a packet of chewing gum. But when you start paying for drugs, you can never have enough money.

"I broke into countless homes and caused untold anguish and pain. Now that I'm trying to rebuild my life, I know it was wrong and I regret it all," he admitted. He sees no point in trying to face his victims though. "I have never seen most of them. I never committed a hold-up and whenever I broke in, there was no one inside. Thank God I never had to hurt anyone physically. Now that I too am trying to fix up a flat, and I know how hard it is, I realise how much harm I have done.

"But I have paid dearly for it too. I have spent some 17 years in jail and in one of the last cases of theft I had, I ended up being robbed by the so-called victim.

"I went to buy a bag of bird seed as I like to rear canaries. The shop was unattended and I called once, twice, and no one turned up. Then I had this crazy inspiration to raid the cash register and I took Lm96. Little did I know there was a security camera that filmed me going in and out of the shop.

"I was arrested and though the police had no proof I that had stolen anything, I pleaded guilty and my lawyer advised me to return the stolen money. I had to pay Lm300 as the shop-owner claimed that's how much had been stolen. I still ended up with a four-year jail term. I'm not trying to justify what I did, but I was robbed too," he said. John is now following the rehabilitation programme. It's his second - since he relapsed after the first.

"It's not easy to kick the drug habit. I had been clean for seven years and slipped back into drugs. The best thing is for people is to stay away from drugs. There's no easy way out.

"I did the programme because I wanted to rebuild my life. I'm over 40 and at times feel humiliated. You need permission for everything you do. People should understand these consequences before making silly mistakes.

"Crime and drugs do not pay. I can now clearly distinguish right from wrong. I am learning to leave the horrible past behind. I am learning about values I never had. Caritas is helping me. I just pray and hope that I will remain strong so that when temptations strike, as they will, I would be able to look them in the eye and say 'no thank you'."

*Name has been changed.