Tahiti

Letter

From James Boyack

rpHOSE seven munitions thieves (PIM, May, p. 30) A had a surprise third act for their Tahiti audience last month. Although it occurred off stage, only a drunk would have missed the melodramatic climax in the wings. In the wings of Tahiti’s million dollar Faaa Prison, to be exact. The seven, accused of absconding with army munitions, the seven, authors of a mind boggling although short-lived gaol break, the seven . . engineered a three-hour prison riot at the end of April.

They and most of the other 240 inmates wrecked the ultra-modern penal facility and left the astounded authorities with a $A60,000 repair bill.

You may recall that five of the thieves wriggled out of custody in late March; red-faced authorities snatched them back within a few days. Returning to gaol with them was a detachment of gendarmes, who, henceforth, would bolster prison security. Along with the gendarmes came a general crackdown on what had been a very loosely regulated, very Polynesian-style calaboose.

A major element of such prison reform was the suspension of television privileges. (The disrespectful gaol-birds flew the coop thanks to the diversion of a post-TV mass return to cells). Tube withdrawal symptoms infuriated many of the long-time residents, and were, incredibly enough, one of the major causes of the riot.

Early April was a difficult time for the Tahiti gaol.

Two government investigations of the fantasy escape had begun. The guard hierarchy was in turmoil, with the warden under suspension. The all-French Polynesian staff felt the suspicious eye of the administration intimat ing collusion with the prisoners. The guards felt obliged to discontinue their informal relationship with the in mates which, until the escape, had been one essence of the smooth functioning of gaol lii.„ And then there were the gendarmes, unwelcome out siders. They were a new and irritating element, and one of them, it seems, threw fuel on the fire that ignited the revolt.

The gendarmes were the embodiment of the new disciplinary regime. Their Metropolitan and military background made them a gaol anomaly, however, although events had dictated their presence. And they had their own problems. The pressure on them was immense. They were responsible for the detention of

the seven munitions thieves and for preventing further escapes, but they had neither the privilege nor the experience of tempering their unexpected bulwark role with the subtilties operative in the prisoner-guard relationship.

IT IS important here to stress that Tahiti’s gaol, like the island itself, has always been excessively relaxed.

Herman Melville made this clear in his OMOO account of the 1842 “Hotel de Calabooza”, the Tahiti prison in which he rested and which was “by far the most sumptuously furnished saloon in Tahiti”.

Tahiti’s punitive institution has been a generally accepted joke from Melville’s time until last month when the seven thieves changed the ground rules. For example, once the thieves were recaptured, it was decided to confiscate all unnecessary personal belongings in each cell. These obviously were the hiding place of imple ments used for escape. This decision had to be reversed, however, when the old-timers expressed mutinous resentment at such an intrusion in their “home life”.

Prison officials, like the Americans in Vietnam, had to avoid the extremes of indulgence and authority, yet they had to regain complete control of the gaol. The rowdy munitions thieves were determined to exploit this situation.

Although they were isolated from the other inmates, the seven sparked at least two incidents of rebellion prior to the riot. They almost persuaded the other prisoners not to return to their cells after dinner one night, and they led several nights of cell-bound shouting and banging. Interspersed with the yells were cries for independence and the long life of Pouvanaa a Oopa, the 73-year-old senator once gaoled for storing arms and plotting the incineration of Papeete. This report was the first public indication that the thieves had more than larceny in their hearts.

The riot occurred a few hours after the thieves were reunited for the first time since their escape. The group was bused from Faaa to the downtown courthouse at about 8 a.m. The seven were returned to gaol when the judge, indisposed, was unable to receive them.

During their round-trip, the conspirators evidently reached an accord which eventuated in the riot.

You see, they were not happy with their accommoda

tion. They had no beds and so were forced to sleep on the concrete floor. They were also the only prisoners locked in their cells 24 hours a day. Their beds had been confiscated after they had had used the metal legs to bang their bars all night long. Such unprecedented disturbances at first kept the other prisoners awake and eventually drew them into the act. The already strained atmosphere of the facility was deteriorating.

VI/'HEN the seven got back to Faaa at about 9 a.m., ** two (including the rightly or wrongly supposed leader of the group, American Bill Fry) returned to their cells. The others refused to budge from the corridor until their beds were returned. The protestors were firm in their demand, but they were not aggressive. The gendarme guard begged them not to give him a hard time, arguing that he was not empowered to restore the beds. He promised, at their insistence, to immediately inform the prison administrator of their demand. In the meantime, he insisted they return to their cells.

They refused. Verbal badminton continued for about two hours when another gendarme barked into the game. He apparently threatened the five, or somehow played the tough guy, and the Tahiti prison riot began.

The five drove the guards out of the corridor. While the gendarmes scurried for reinforcements, the two other thieves were released to join their comrades in angry possession of the cell floor. Before advancing to other wings of the gaol, the cantankerous seven went to work breaking everything in sight, thus creating the terms of the uprising.

After unhingeing one of the heavy cell doors, they had an effective battering ram to break through the gate which had separated them from the main quarters of the prison.

Once out of their corridor, the seven swiftly opened all the cells and were joined by the other inmates, raged. Nothing was spared in the rampage [except the kitchen stoves and refrigerators). Plumbing flectncal and telephone installations were destroyed!

Jathrooms and public rooms were devastated. Doors and vafls and windows were attacked with the vengeance )r confined men. No one seemed to care who started */ 10t °r.^ hy be g an - It was an unhoped for carnival.

Meanwhile, shortly after 11 a.m., about a dozen [endarme reinforcements reached the prison courtyard Uthough armed, they were not ordered into the havoc idden building. They settled for firing several rounds •r tear gas into the structure when the inmates looked ike battering their way out. The tear gas made the orndor not zone untenable. The prisoners were forced p onto the roof to breathe. And it was getting to be mch time. Pots of boiling food were carried to the jot for an outdoor picnic. 5 b ° Ut . , soldie . rs and Foreign Legionnaires athered outside the prison walls, Secretary General jan Tissier, the island’s second ranking French official ntered the courtyard. He used a portable loud speaker ) implore the prisoners to give themselves up. His ppeal was met with a-burst of invective. More rocks nd other objects showered down from the roof. ) NE OF the thieves, now a riot spokesman, demanded to meet with Deputy Francis Sanford, Senator ouvanaa and Governor Pierre Angeli. Sanford and

Pouvanaa are the titular leaders of the local movement for internal self-government. The thieves, widely regarded as star-struck would-be revolutionaries (nary a revolutionary act or pronouncement have been at tributed to them, however, and the autonomists, to a man, have publicly condemned their alleged crimes), figured to get a sympathetic hearing from the auto nomist chiefs. The governor would be the man to act on their grievances.

Sanford arrived at about noon. He urged the rioters to return quietly to their cells. It was complained the cells reeked of tear gas, and Sanford verified this. The deputy then called on the prisoners to leave the roof and gather in the courtyard. He told the seven thieves they were requested to give themselves up to the gendarmes. He assured the other prisoners there would be no reprisals.

The deputy was greeted respectfully but there was no rush to obey him. Some of the prisoners moved to give up, but still more continued to ransack the prison.

Most of the inmates remained on the roof. Sanford seemed to have been a stabilising but not a decisive influence. Pouvanaa spoke to the prisoners at about 1 p.m. The revered old man accomplished little more than Sanford. He urged surrender, created a ripple of consent, added to a sense of reality, but was unable to procure a massive retirement from the roof.

When the two autonomists failed to halt the rebellion, Secretary General Tissier instructed the chief of the gendarmerie to inform the rioters that troops would be used to regain control of the gaol. The gendarme leader promised that no one would be punished if the seven thieves gave up and the other prisoners descended from the roof one by one. Army units moved into the court yard to back up his ultimatum. The prisoners got the message.

It was about 1.30 p.m. when they acquiesced. The riot ended without violent intervention (there were no injuries at all) because there were really no tangible, negotiable reasons for the uprising. The seven leaders were hustled off to gendarme headquarters.

GOVERNOR Angeli had been delayed by a late lunch at his residence with the Vice Premier of New Zealand. He entered the courtyard at about 3 p.m. and, surrounded by the inmates, he deplored the senselessness of the destruction. Mr. Angeli promised, for the third time in six weeks, that the majority of the prisoners would not be punished for the mischief of a few. He emphasised his respect for the gaol’s special Polynesian atmosphere.

He tried to get the prisoners to tell him why they rioted. Most were silent, heads hung low. Some smiled to themselves. One said it was because they wanted to watch television. Now the TV was smashed to pieces.

The governor promised to buy a new set with his own money if there were no more trouble in the next two weeks (he kept his promise on time). Another complained that the seven had ruined prison life. The governor assured him the seven would not be seen in Faaa for a while.

The thieves have been detained in the gendarmerie since the riot. They will be tried in early June and are expected if convicted, to be exiled from Tahiti.