Harare remand prison a haven for drugs and corruption

Despite being guarded round the clock, Harare Remand Prison has become a notorious hub for drugs, smuggling, and illicit trading, activities abetted by some of the very guards assigned to enforce order. Having spent 72 days confined there from February 25, I can speak from firsthand experience about the harsh realities hidden behind its walls.

The prison, housed in an old and dilapidated three-storey building known as the D Class section, accommodates the most dangerous accused persons. It is here, where I shared a cell with Moses Mpofu and Mike Chimombe, that a separate, almost lawless economy thrives - one built around substances like mbanje (marijuana), mutoriro (a local intoxicant), tumbwa (illicit brew), and other drugs.

Harare Remand operates almost like a small city with its own underground market, controlled by drug lords who supply and distribute illegal substances. Estimates by longtime inmates put the daily value of this illicit trade at over US$8,000. Yet, to protect those still awaiting trial, I will withhold names and only share what I personally witnessed and endured.

The entry process into D Class is humiliating. New arrivals endure a strip search intended to prevent contraband from entering, but in reality, it serves as a toll point where guards collect bribes allowing drugs, cash, phones, and sharp objects inside. On arrival, prisoners are forced to sit in a formation called "Foren," short for "fall in line," a prison tradition. We were issued lice-infested, dirty khaki uniforms recycled from previous inmates, with no chance for washing or hygiene.

Prisoners must strip naked before guards and fellow inmates and perform physical exercises, all for the amusement of the guards, some of whom occasionally resort to violence. This degrading ritual, however, fails to stop contraband, which remains rampant despite the supposed security.

Cash is officially banned, but the reality is very different. Currency of multiple denominations circulates freely, smuggled in by guards who take their cut before passing it to prisoners. Drugs and other goods are bartered using sugar, cigarettes, and cash at highly discounted rates. For example, two sealed packs of cigarettes can be traded for 2 kilograms of sugar, a twist of mbanje, or a dollar. Cigarettes also buy favors from guards or access to tumbwa. Even small snacks like boiled eggs or bananas are available for three cigarette sticks.

On the morning of February 26, as I moved through the prison, the pungent smell of marijuana was unmistakable. Inmates were openly smoking, casually passing a blunt as a guard looked on indifferently. This was merely the visible tip of a much larger iceberg.

Underpaid, overstretched, and demoralized, many prison guards depend on these illegal trades for their livelihoods. They view prisoners not as wards but as customers. For just two packs of cigarettes, a guard might smuggle prohibited items or turn a blind eye to wrongdoing. In fact, the guards themselves are often the main suppliers of drugs like tumbwa, mutoriro, and mbanje, using certain inmates as their agents.

The situation is so dire that on March 21, fellow inmate Luke Zinyengere pulled off a daring escape from the prison's holding area at the magistrate's court, allegedly using a gun smuggled inside with the help of a guard reportedly paid US$500 for the job. Though he was recaptured after three days, the incident exposed serious security lapses.

Following the escape, guards from the Chikurubi Maximum Security Prison were brought in to conduct a thorough search. They recovered six cellphones, packages of mbanje, and pipes used for smoking mutoriro, though some contraband was reportedly flushed away before the search. This operation confirmed suspicions that certain connected inmates possess cellphones, a serious breach of prison rules.

Beyond drugs and phones, there is also a thriving black market for food. While official meals consist of barely cooked sugar beans with little oil or seasoning, some prisoners have access to well-cooked beans and even chicken, prepared in the same kitchen but diverted to the cells and sold for cigarettes or cash. Some guards operate unofficial tuck shops, selling these illicit goods to supplement their meager incomes.

The economic hardship faced by prison staff is stark. Many openly ask for small bribes just to afford transport home, and watch as visitors bring in fast food that inmates themselves could never afford. This trade persists not out of a desire to break the law but as a grim necessity for survival - for both guards and prisoners.

Top-ranking prison officials, meanwhile, enjoy luxury cars and delegate the difficult work to poorly paid juniors who are often left to fend for themselves. Despite the brutal conditions, some inmates prefer life inside, earning more from these underground markets than they ever could outside.

Without urgent government intervention to improve the pay and conditions of prison guards, the smuggling and drug trade at Harare Remand and other prisons will remain unchecked. Until then, the prison will continue to be a microcosm of corruption, survival, and despair.

This account is only a glimpse into the daily realities of Harare Remand Prison. More details of the aftermath of the March 21 escape and its consequences will follow in a subsequent report.