By Vera Wisdom-Bassey
Mrs. Lizzie Ekpendu is the Deputy Comptroller of Prison (DCP) in charge of the female section of Nigerian Correctional Service, Kirikiri, Lagos. Formerly known as Kirikiri Maximum Security Prison, it is part of the Nigerian Prison Services (NPS), a government agency that runs the country’s prisons, under the supervision of the Ministry of Interior. Ekpendu who has been described variously as “First Lady of the Kirikiri Female Prisons” because of the reforms she’s brought to the place since she took over as the officer-in-charge, hails from Katsina-Ala, Benue State but is married to an Igbo man. She started her career as a youth corps member in 1997 before rising through the ranks to be placed over the affairs of the female section of the correctional service. In this conversation with Saturday Sun, she expressed joy and satisfaction with the job she is doing, and added that she is willing to die on the job, if need be.
I can see that the female inmates hold you in high esteem, and pour encomiums on you as an exceptional woman. How did this come to be?
It has been my desire and joy to love those that are behind bars. I was born into a lovely family. All my life, I have been loved deeply. And I can say that I am one of those privileged ones that God put in a home full of love. Like they say, you don’t give what you don’t have. I am one of those who come from a home filled with love. Therefore, it is easy for me to love people. I don’t consider them as inmates; I see them as my daughters, no matter their age. And, they see me as their mother. We see ourselves as members of the same family. This is why it is easy for me to manage them.
How do you engage them? I mean, I expect that there should be the big, the high, the stubborn and rest of them?
Jesus said in the Bible: ‘I am the Vine and you are the branches.’ I have branches too; that’s my staff. I have dutiful staff who also act like mothers to them like I do. Talking about leadership, you don’t do the leading from behind; you take the lead from the front. My staff know what I want for my ‘daughters.’ All the same, like you made mention of in your question, about the big, the high, the stubborn and the rest of them, the most difficult thing to relate to or deal with in life are human beings. In fact, you cannot control them; the only person who can is the Holy Spirit. My staffs have been tolerant because they are God-fearing. Both Christian and Muslims. All the staffs are one; there is no discrimination. In the facilities we have here, you don’t know who is a Christian or who is Muslim. We’re all one big family.
What plans have you put in place to monitor these girls after they are released from prison, to make sure they turn out responsible citizens?
The system works like an automatic machine. The inmates have a routine. In the morning, they take their showers; nobody forces you to do what you don’t want to do. Then they go for religious fellowship or worship. Those who want to go to school would do so. And those who want to go to train in the workshops would be allowed to do so. Those who want to make telephone calls at the welfare unit would do so and those whose lawyers want to see would be attended to by my staff. Most times, I allow my staffs to do their work. I don’t interfere. Every one of them has sections they run. We have the kitchen staff, school, etc. just name them. All of them are run by their heads. But I inspect, and make sure that everything contributes to the comfort of my daughters. I am in charge to make sure things are run well. My daughters know. You don’t need to run after anyone. Love is what we promote in the family because there is nothing greater than love.
What prompted you to go for this job?
Actually, I was a youth corps member in Owerri, and was posted to serve at the prisons in the state capital. The first time I entered into the complex, I wept. I loved singing and dancing because I read Theatre Arts in my first degree at the University of Jos. So I actualised that there. I held different programmes with the inmates. In those days, it was very rare to find a corps member working in the prison yard. But for me, it was very easy because of my upbringing. That was why the then Comptroller-General of Nigerian Prison Services, now late, sent for me in 1997 when he heard about me. I had to travel down to Abuja to see him. He said to me: ‘Young lady, would you like to work in the prison?’ By then I had already gotten job offers from Chevron and NNPC. But I turned them down and accepted the prison work. My family was not happy with me for turning down job offers from oil companies. They were like, ‘what is wrong with this lady?’ Every day I go to the prisons and hear someone call me “mummy” or “mother”, it gives me joy. And the hugs they give me when they see me are my strength. They pray for me. With them behind me, I can ‘jam’ a rock because I know my daughters are praying for me.
Given the increasing rate of crime these days, how do you classify them when they are brought to you?
Apart from those classified as “awaiting trials,” there are those serving various prison sentences, or life imprisonment as well as condemned prisoners. A lot of nursing mothers belong to the first group. We wait until their cases are judged and sentences handed down to them before they are moved behind bars.
Talking about trafficking of girls, how does your office handle it to ensure that the cases are reduced in the society?
We don’t handle such here. But as for those accused of engaging in trafficking, we keep them until they are found guilty and sentenced accordingly. But generally, we look after them the best we can, making sure they are well taken care of. Their welfare is my concern. Although people don’t appreciate what we do, we are nurses, doctors, counsellors, pastors, imams, mothers, fathers to the inmate, even to those of them that are older than us. I wish the country would appreciate what we do, of what God is using the prison workers to do.
You talked about humility. How do you inculcate this into them?
They watch me and see what I do. I don’t just talk the talk, I do the do. They would see what Mummy is doing, and gradually began to do that.
How do you handle the pregnant ones?
They have a clinic where they are attended to by doctors, nurses and matron assigned to them. It is like a normal hospital. But then if they are far gone or advanced, if the doctors say they would give birth today or tomorrow, we don’t take them. But after the birth of the baby, then they can come in as inmates because we don’t know their history.
You mean, the ones that are due for delivery are rejected?
Yes, those of them who are nine-months pregnant, and want to come in as inmates.
What was your growing up like?
It was very religious-like. I was baptised as a child. I loved singing. I was in the drama group. It was fun. So going to church right from my early childhood was actually my foundation. I like singing.
How are you trying to implant the same liking in the inmates?
We teach them to sing even when they are sad.
Have you ever experienced jailbreak in the female section before?
No, no, no. We’ve not had such experience; you cannot have a mother like me and want to jail-break. Why? How?
How do you relax?
I don’t relax. I like to work. Any day I stop working is the day I would die.
How do you combine your work with your work at home as a mother?
I don’t handle everything, but Jesus does. Some people hide under their husbands. I don’t know who their husbands are. This prison work is my life, and if I die today, my children will be what God wants them to be. If I die, after one year, my husband’s people will begin to put pressure on him to remarry. So I need to fulfil my calling. I don’t allow myself to be distracted from that calling. Basically I’ve handed my children over to God.
Those who acquire skills here, is there any soft loan to assist them with, after they are released from prison, to enable them start a new life?
Whatever allowance that comes in, we keep for the families, and keep a part for the government.
How do you monitor those who are released?
I don’t need to monitor them. Because of that bond that had been established between me and my daughters, whenever they leave here they always call on the phone to inform me where they are. And whatever I have, I give them; I give money and even accommodation.
The society is awash with miscreants, especially girls engaged in prostitution. Most times, they are arrested and brought to your custody. How do you correct them, and make them live a better life?
They bring many of them here. And, when they come, we advise them, guide them, and take good care of them. Because of the kind of love we show to them, many of them do not want to go. But some go and still live the kind of life that brought them to prison. We counsel and pray for them. Some of them get in touch with me. But some, after some time, I don’t hear from them anymore. Some of them accept Jesus as their Lord and personal saviour before they leave.
To what extent is this correctional work of a thing working?
We just started the correctional work. What is the average life of a prison worker? Why does the society find it difficult to appreciate us? It makes me unhappy. They should just come and see what we are doing. Every time we enter the prison yard, something goes out of us. We are called common warders; you bring to us the people you hate, and we accept and love them. Why can’t the society understand that we are working and sacrificing our lives? I pray that God will use me to talk to some people to know that the average prison warder should be loved and appreciated. This is because we are doing a sacrificial job. We should be hailed. We are doing what some people outside there cannot do. We are looking after the people that the society has forsaken and rejected. But we know that they are not useless. I call them my daughters. Even those of them in the male prison are my sons. But basically, my work is in female prisons.