of the _Pen-jara_
in Independent Malaya; and imprisonment in the former is not altogether
the same thing as incarceration in the latter.
The gaol in which Talib was confined was situated in one of the most
crowded portions of the native town. It consisted of two rows of cages,
placed back to back, each one measuring some six feet in length, two
feet in width, and five feet in height. These cages were formed of heavy
slabs of wood, with intervals of some two inches in every eight, for the
admission of light and air. The floors, which were also made of wooden
bars, were raised about six inches from the ground; and the cages, which
were twelve in number, were surrounded, at a distance of about two feet,
by a solid wall, formed of slabs of wood joined closely one to another.
Prisoners placed in these cells are never allowed to come out again,
until the money payment has been made in satisfaction of the claim
against them, or until kindly Death puts forth his hand to deliver them
from worse pains than his.
Even this represents little to the European mind. Natives may perhaps
live in a cage from necessity much as they often live in a boat from
choice, and those who have never visited the prisoners in their
captivity may think that no great suffering is inflicted upon them by
such confinement. To fill in the picture one has to remember many
things. No sanitary appliances of any kind are provided; no one ever
cleans out the cages, or takes any steps to prevent the condition of the
captives from being such as would disgrace that of a wild beast in a
small travelling menagerie. The space between the floor and the ground,
and the interval which separates the cells from the surrounding fence,
is one seething, living mass of stinking putrefaction. Here in the
tropics, under a brazen sun, all unclean things turn to putrid filthy
life within the hour; and in a native gaol the atmosphere is heavy with
the fumes and rottenness of the offal of years, and the reeking pungency
of offal that is new. No ventilation can penetrate into the fetid
airless cells, nor could the veriest hurricane purge the odours bred by
such surroundings.
This then was the wretched life to which Talib was now condemned; nor
did his agonies end here, for the gnawing pangs of hunger were added to
his pains. He was handed over to the gentle care of the _Per-tanda_ or
Executioner--an official who, in the Unprotected States, unites the
kindly office of life-take
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