“10 more minutes”, said the man behind the desk on the other side of the glass pane. I walked back to my chair and sat down again, fearing ten minutes would turn into 30. I have already been waiting for over an hour.
I was there to visit Danish Jesper Jensen, who has been held in Samut Prakan Prison near Bangkok since november 2023 for allegedly stealing a bag. According to himself, he never intended to steal the bag, but was looking to return it to the owner, as he had found it unattended at the airport. He is currently waiting for his sentencing, which presumably will happen on 16 May 2024.
Rows of metal chairs were lined up in front of the entrance door, which was framed by a metal detector. Cold air from white fans blew into my face, serving as a relief from the blasting sun outside. The seats were filled with people, chattering and waiting for their turn. In front of me a small child kept her family entertained, while they waited to meet someone on the other side of the prison walls. Many were smiling and talking lightheartedly, as if they weren’t sitting outside a prison, impatiently waiting to be let in.
An officer raised a megaphone to his mouth and the machine made his voice metallic as he called the next group of people in. The child in front of me was picked up by her mother and carried through the metal detector and out of my sight. A TV showed a 24-hour reality crime-watch show, gently reminding all the unfortunate visitors as to why they were here.
15 minutes later the mother returned with her baby in arms and eyes filled with tears as she picked up her belongings to leave.
Two hours after I had arrived, a woman in uniform approached me and said it was my turn now.
“No phone”, the officer said as I walked through the metal detector, and was guided into a small room. I sat on a stool in front of a telephone which had a small screen attached to it.
I picked up the phone and Jesper appeared on the screen, looking excited to receive a phone call. I told Jesper that he had received a new court date on 16 May 2024 and he was thrilled as the date had originally been in August – no one had told him yet. I told him I had found his phone in custody of a woman in Tanzania, who he had spent time with in Bangkok before he went to prison. She had kept it for him and told his family what had happened.
He told me about dormitories with 80 inmates, where only ten centimeters of air would separate his face and the next person’s feet, when he slept at night. He told me he has three blankets but no mattress to sleep on. He told me showering and medical help was a privilege not everyone was granted. He told me about the morning queue for breakfast, where one would get a hot cup of coffee and get their finger immersed in the drink, if they didn’t leave the queue fast enough. He told me about “big boss”, who was also an inmate and not to be messed with.
For my next visit Jesper asked me to print out pictures of his friends, family and Hanstholm Havn, because he missed them and as a way to communicate with the other inmates to overcome the Thai-Danish language barrier.
I realized an officer was lurking over my shoulder. I turned around and saw him pointing at his watch.
“Two more minutes”, he said warningly, I nodded.
We said goodbye, I left the room and stepped out through the metal detector. I took my phone and stepped back outside in the blasting sun, but this time I was thrilled to see it again.
Two hours after I had arrived, a woman in uniform approached me and said it was my turn now.