“They gave me scissors, and I disconnected my baby from myself. Then they had to take care of him.”
Jane sighs as she remembers her son’s birth. Sent to prison when she was five months pregnant, leaving her young daughter to be cared for by her father, Jane’s experiences have left her with deep scars.
And yet, against the odds, she has emerged as an advocate and leader in the field of prisoner rehabilitation. Today she is calling for prison and penal reform so that other women do not suffer as she did.
While pregnant in prison in Kenya, Jane lived in a ward for pregnant women and those with children – over 100 people in a single room, all sharing one toilet. The only light and ventilation came from small windows set high in the wall. “It was forever dark. Always wailing, never quiet. And the stench… It was a small hell.”
When she went into labour, issues with communication between prison staff meant that she was not taken to hospital until it was far too late. She gave birth alone at the hospital entrance, as the driver and a male prison officer – armed with a gun – stood by. As her health records had not been brought to the hospital, medical staff refused to care for her, and would only care for her baby once she had cut her own umbilical cord. Jane delivered the placenta, cleaned herself and was sent back to prison the same day – this time holding her baby in her arms.
Unbelievably, Jane is one of the lucky ones. She remembers a woman who gave birth at night when the ward’s doors were shut. Without medical care, her baby died. When the officers opened the doors in the morning they took the baby away for burial, leaving the woman there with nothing. “The fact I’ve seen that – I cannot ever be the same.”
For the next eighteen months, Jane raised her baby within prison walls. She and the other mothers faced an uphill battle to care for their children, finding inventive ways to get them what they needed. She remembers hoisting water up to the windows to warm in the sun to wash their tiny babies. She relied on family to get even the most basic of resources for her son, from nappies to food. Many women’s families were not able to provide this support, leaving them to get by on basic help from civil society and religious organizations. Still, it was never enough. “I grew thin. I grew very thin.”
The United Nations Rules for the Treatment of Women Prisoners and Non-custodial Measures for Women Offenders – known as the Bangkok Rules – are clear that pregnant women and those with young children should not be sent to prison, and that non-custodial alternatives should be used instead.
Jane’s experiences have left her in total agreement: “Women should give birth in a natural space, help the baby grow, and then be imprisoned if need be. But for most women there are alternative resolutions that could work.
“No woman should have to give birth in chains. And no life should begin behind bars.”
When her son was eighteen months old Jane made the impossible decision to send him to live with his father outside prison, joining his older sister. Jane finds it hard to talk about the magnitude of this separation.
With five years left of her sentence, Jane began asking herself what she could do to pass her time. Before imprisonment, she had worked in catering for the United Nations Office in Nairobi, and she decided to turn her skills to improving the prison’s food. “The food we were being given was cold food not fit for a human… a lot of it was being thrown in the dustbin, at a cost to the government and the taxpayer.” Prisoners were hungry, and conflict with prison officers was common.
“I asked for a meeting with the officer in charge… I asked, are the officers enjoying what they’re experiencing with the prisoners? Could we think of a better way to help each other?”
She put forward a written proposal, which was accepted, allowing her to set up a club where prisoners cooked food for other prisoners. The club sold good food with good portion sizes at an affordable cost. The offer proved very popular. Women working in the club went through a programme through which they worked in different parts of the business, from food production to cooking, gaining skills that boosted their employability. Jane paid them wages which were put into accounts that could be used outside the prison – for example to pay children’s hospital bills and school fees. On release each woman was paid a lump sum to support their reintegration into society.
The benefits of Jane’s club were enormous. “The officers were happy, the prisoners were happy, the rate of crime within the prison reduced tremendously, costs to the institution reduced, and the prisoners became healthier.
“It helped even me to heal.”
Jane went on to be named prisoner of the year and was assigned as leader of the Officer in Charge’s kitchen. Her experiences – and those of the women she supported – underline the difference that prison-based rehabilitation programmes can make to lives within and beyond prison walls. UNODC works with Member States worldwide to implement this kind of life-changing initiative.
Eventually, Jane’s release date arrived. Having looked forward to release for so long, Jane now faced the reality of life after incarceration – a life marked by stigma. She kept her circle of friends small, as many in her community had preconceptions of formerly incarcerated people. Finding employment was a challenge – but resourceful Jane used the money she had saved through her business in prison to open a new café.
The highlight of Jane’s life post-release was reconnecting with her children. It has taken time to overcome the distance that had grown between her and her daughter over years of separation, but today they have a strong relationship. Jane has the normal complaints about her teenage children – their social media addiction, their occasional grumpiness – but she glows with pride. Her daughter is now at university, while her 14-year-old son is at a national school, one of the top ten students in the country. Having started his life in prison, he has thrived against the odds.
Since 2017 Jane has worked as a consultant and advocate for an NGO, running programmes to economically empower women leaving prison, helping them to find a decent livelihood.
She is a major proponent of the Bangkok Rules, which she first encountered while in prison. “I read the rules over and over again. If they would implement the rules, everything would be different.”
The rules aim to prioritize alternatives to imprisonment for women in all suitable cases: even more so than for men, prison is often ineffective and damaging for women. If women must be sent to prison, the rules give guidance on meeting their specific needs. The rules also state the support that should be given to children living in prison with their mothers. The rules also aim to improve contact between prisoners and their children in the community.
The rules complement the wider United Nations Standard Minimum Rules on the Treatment of Prisoners – known as the Nelson Mandela Rules – and are universally acknowledged. But as Jane’s experiences underline, they are a long way from being a universal reality.
2025 marks the 15th anniversary of the Bangkok Rules, and the 10th anniversary of the Nelson Mandela Rules. As their custodian, UNODC is calling for renewed action to make the rules a universal reality. Action is needed at every level: from national authorities, the international community, NGOs, and those working on the ground in prisons.
Former prisoners are lending their voices to the call – including Jane. Her story is not only one of survival, but of leadership and power. Today she asks us to turn our attention to the hundreds of thousands of women worldwide still living in that small hell she will never forget.
