By Raffique Shah
May 30, 2026

One of the best experiences one can have is to have made friends with total strangers you encounter along life’s long and winding road. Among the more horrible experiences anyone could possibly have, though, is getting close to another person, ignoring warning signals of him or her being not entirely honest and straightforward.

I went to prison at a very young age. I was 24 years old, which was also the case with most of the other soldiers. I shall not bore readers with stories of having to unmask criminals who are absolutely unscrupulous, who were prepared to taint my character and that of my men.

If the prison’s system can be likened to a microcosm of the wider society, then the picture I have kept in my mind of what life behind bars and inside cells was like—where the wrecked of society are cast, most likely guilty of crimes for which they have been tried and imprisoned—you would be amazed at the truth that unwinds within its walls. It’s stranger than fiction.

Because we had stamped our images and integrity on anything we had to cope with, in the 27 months we spent behind bars, the prisoners at the Port of Spain prison, The Royal Gaol, respected us almost to a man.

A similar position was held by many of the prison officers.

One taboo topic that has been fascinating about prisons through the years is that there were more officers involved in homosexuality than the system would be prepared to admit. In one of our early briefings, we advised our men to stay very far from the wildness that fanned the flames of hedonism—which sparked more interest than it should have. You see, within days of finding ourselves in the main prison, we observed a sexily dressed young man who had imprinted on his very bare pum-pum shorts, his “CV”. This was a man—we called him “Sex-Engine”—was convicted of robbery and should have been clothed in prison attire. We soon determined that he was a cheerleader for the third gender, the one that now encompasses half the alphabet.

Now, we had nothing against people practising their sexual freedom and preferences, but we did have severe reservations about such men in prison making names for themselves as “sex machines”. It was common knowledge that sex was denied to prisoners; the seeming complicity among the homosexuals must have had the blessings of some very senior officers. It contributed to the breakdown of discipline and created tension that spilled into violence over “mih man”.

But if the breakdown over sexual acts wrecked the prisons, I encountered an even worse case that had manifested itself quite openly outside the prison walls long after I had left; and by this time, I already had my own little family. Someone wrote to me asking that I investigate a highly immoral “sex-ring” that involved at least two holy men. When I read the letter and determined its facts, by checking with men of the cloth I knew, I almost fell over into the tangle of ropes and ended up on the death row of our bloody street. I decided that discretion was the better part of valour: I never ventured into those people’s business again in life, not even to check a tip-off or a full-blown scandal.

My focus as a journalist changed over time from political intrigue to discussing business in my country, and now, in my twilight years, sadly, I find myself, week after week, having to talk about crime, which is what has affected us the most over the last several years. Our prisons cells are overflowing, yet still we seem crowded on the outside with criminals. As the young people say: the maths eh mathsing.

When are those in charge going to get it through their thick skulls that to date, nobody—not the Commissioner of Police, the Minister of Homeland Security, the Prime Minister—no one has the blueprint on how to solve our crime crisis. I posit that there is no solution to crime. It will continue to haunt us, just as the persons who aided and abetted the criminal element are doing.

The brush of corruption touches us although we have insufficient money to thief. We owing the thieves now, so I suppose “is licks for all ah we”.

We are so overwhelmed by corruption touching every leader, every party, and infiltrating our State apparatus and private sector contractors—the biggest beneficiaries out there. We have now stooped to an all-time low: we are hiring undereducated people at State-owned companies and paying them more than most UWI graduates receive in their first year of employment.

But we like it so.