A TEARFUL FAREWELL IN MAURITIUS PRISON

By Precious Mupenzi

• The moment of reckoning had come for a 39-year-old mother and inmate of a Mauritian prison. Today was the day she had to say goodbye to her young daughter, who was being repatriated to South Africa from Mauritius.
•  In a touching display of solidarity, the mother’s fellow inmates formed a guard of honour to bid farewell to the young child.
• In the final moments before the child left with the Department of Social Development officials, the prison welfare officer Carina Ramdoo said “Orewar” to the little girl, “goodbye” in Mauritian Creole. It was a fitting end to a deeply emotional chapter in the lives of both mother and daughter – one filled with pain, but also with hope for a brighter future.

“We have been waiting here for you to come since morning,” the mother called out from behind the long, fenced wall, her voice a mixture of nervous anticipation and reluctant humour. Sitting on a bench with her five-year-old daughter beside her, the moment she had been preparing for had finally arrived – the moment that would tear her heart in two.

Today, the 39-year-old mother of three was forced to say goodbye to her only daughter, who had spent the last five years by her side in the confines of a Mauritian prison.

Though she had remained calm in the days leading up to the departure, when the reality set in, her composure crumbled. The tears flowed uncontrollably, not just from her, but from the other female inmates who had grown attached to the little girl.

The air was thick with emotion as officials from the Department of Social Development arrived to take the child away, signalling the end of this extraordinary chapter in both their lives.

The handover unfolds

As the handover process began, the mother carefully handed over a neatly packed bag containing her daughter’s clothes, toys, and school projects.

But as the final meeting unfolded, the mood shifted dramatically. The little girl, sensing the tension, grew visibly uneasy, and the mother, overwhelmed by emotion, could no longer hold back the flood of sorrow. In that moment, surrounded by social workers and prison officials, she allowed herself to weep openly.

Other female inmates, who had grown fond of the child during her time in prison, gathered around to say their goodbyes. In a touching display of solidarity, they formed a guard of honour, hugging the little girl and wishing her well on her journey.

The farewell was not only emotional for the mother and child, but for the entire prison community, who had witnessed the bond between them over the years.

In a private moment, the mother leaned down to whisper something into her daughter’s ear. To those watching, it was clear: she was offering a prayer – a prayer of protection and guidance for her child as they faced this heart-breaking separation. Her words, though soft, carried the weight of a mother’s love and her deepest hopes for the future.

When asked if she had a message for her own mother back in South Africa, the mother’s voice trembled. “Mama, I am sorry. Ngiyazi ukuthi ngikuphoxile. Ngiyaxolisa Ma,” she said, her words a mixture of apology and regret. The guilt was overwhelming. She blamed herself for the choices she had made, admitting that her love for money had led her down a path that ultimately stole her time with her daughter.

“If I had not loved money so much,” she reflected, “I wouldn’t have fallen into this trap.”

Sense of shared responsibility

The emotional weight of the moment was felt by all. Inmates from South Africa, her homeland, waved to the child as she was led away. Some called out clan names, offering their regards to the child’s family back home, while others shared their own regret and sorrow.

When the Department of Social Development officials asked the inmates to share messages and pass on their regards to South Africa, one inmate from Umsinga, KwaZulu-Natal, who had become close to the mother, voiced a sentiment that resonated deeply with the others: “I am not proud of myself. Look at us, siniphoxile. Siyaxolisa.”

Her words reflected not just personal remorse, but a shared sense of responsibility – an unspoken recognition of how their actions had led to this moment of pain for the mother, and how their bonds of sisterhood inside the prison had become a support system as strong as any family. It was a reminder that, within these walls, they had created a community that cared deeply for one another, despite the past that had brought them together.

As the farewell drew to a close, the welfare officer from the prison, Carina Ramdoo, who had been looking after the little girl since birth, spoke her final words to her: “Orewar” meaning “goodbye” in Mauritian Creole.

It was a fitting end to a deeply emotional chapter in the lives of both mother and daughter – one filled with pain, but also with hope that this parting would somehow lead to a brighter future.