MyTimeToBlog
Someone yelled for us to turn the day room TV to ABC's local news station. We did, and that was when we all saw a report on 8 prisons in Virginia not having air conditioners. One of those prisons was Nottoway Correction Center, where I'm housed at.
It's nearly 4 o'clock in the afternoon and I'm saturated with sweat. Everybody was, and all we could do was corral around a stand-up fan and try cooling off. That's all we could do. Even the wall-mounted fans didn't help us stop sweating. Shoot, even the exhaust fan that sounded like a giant vacuum drowned out those we spoke with on the phone, didn't help. Nothing did.
This was a daily occurrence for us: sweating. I didn't go outside at all, because to stroll in the heat for a meat rock (chicken bulk) taco wasn't worth it. So, I sat still, working on my freedom as sweat dripped from my brow.
This heat had you never using lotion in the summertime heat. Your skin was tacky with perspiration. Shoot, taking a shower didn't help either, because when you stepped out, you're sweating again. Most would stand in front of the fans, but after being on for a few days straight, all the fans were doing was blowing dust on you. So, I just sat down and drank water.
The ice machine was working overtime as men grabbed buckets of ice. When it ran out of ice, those who gave a damn marched downstairs for the hallway ice machine and loaded up a large trash bag of ice for the housing unit. Once full again, that ice machine would be emptied in a matter of minutes.
Nobody wanted to eat food, let alone cook. It's too hot. So, we drank bottles of water. That quenched our thirst as we sat in front of those dust-blowing fans.
Half the men were walking around shirtless. Back sweat dripped down their spines as everybody was trying to manage their day in the heat. When we're locked down for institutional count, we're in an oven. Seriously, we had 12-inch fans to try and cool off.
My bunk was sweaty as I lay there, suffering through the heat. The walls were hot. You could see them sweating. My celly and I were not talkative as we stewed in the cell. The TVs weren't even being watched. We just tried staying cool. This was an average Tuesday in prison with no air conditioners.
Tomorrow, I saw that the temperature would reach 108° degrees. That meant it would be an inferno in prison. It also meant another day where I'm not going to the chow hall for my meals. I'm not desiring a close personal kiss from the sun's rays. This would be a miserable day, and all I could do was drink water and sit in front of those dusty fans.
After seeing the news on the facilities without air conditioners, I approached my friend who knew the law. I asked what we could do to bring attention to our plight. He suggested getting a class action lawsuit against the Department of Corrections. That had me interested, but then I peered around me: young men were acting out, laughing as if what we're dealing with was oblivious to them. I sighed and just thanked him for the advice as he wiped sweat from his face with a washcloth.
I sat with another friend who was in prison for a second time. He and I started discussing the mindsets of our comrades. I tuned him out when he started going into a monologue about his celly stinking up the cell with his multiple uses of their toilet. I closed my eyes, licked my parched lips and dreamt of an unexpected blizzard.
The heat. The kind you would keep your child inside from, that's my home. My skin was sticky. Sweat trickled down my face as I rose to my feet and headed for the water fountain. I drank the cold water, quenching my thirst...but I'm still hot. I sighed.
I wasn't happy. All I wanted to do was cool off. That's it, and that's next to impossible. I had a single fan as a deterrent for the heat, which didn't work. Nothing did. Not a shower. Not drinking cold water. Not sitting in front of a fan. The only thing that did was when the summer heatwave ended in the fall.
It's June 23rd, and tomorrow will be 108° degrees. One hundred and eight degrees. In prison, that meant I and those on this facility would be sweating as we struggled through the heat. The mindset would be down in the dumps as we stewed in a congested day room, around shirtless men who greedily filled their buckets with ice. One hundred and eight degrees.
I'm now thinking about the men who didn't own a fan and were subjected to being forced to deal with the heat. There were older men, whom I told to sit down and let me get them ice for their cups. They weren't vocal enough to ask the young men who didn't think about anybody but themselves for the ice scoop. This heat made everybody aggressive as they did whatever they could to cool off. I understood that crap, so I placed myself in harm's way for older men that could be my father. They thanked me when I handed them their cups of ice, then they staggered back into their cells...sweating.
Again, this was a daily occurrence for us. We go to sleep in sweat, wake up in sweat, and lounge around in sweat. Twenty-four hours a day, 7 days a week. All the way until the summertime heat departed for the fall season.
HELP US. Please. This was and is cruel and unusual punishment. If PETA would remove a dog from an owner who left a dog chained outside in the heat, what about us? Aren't we more than a dog suffering in the heat?
Aren't we?