Lamenting the passing of Pudu Jail
New Straits Times (Columns)
17 Sep 2006
Elizabeth Cardosa

IT came into her life about five years ago. She was about nine years old and she asked me what building we were driving past. It was the Pudu Jail, in Jalan Hang Tuah, Kuala Lumpur. I think that at first it was the mural painted on its walls, which ran along Jalan Pudu and Jalan Hang Tuah, that first caught her eye.

And thus it was that she developed a fascination for the building; and every time we drove past, maybe about once a month or so, she noticed little things about it. So much so, when the columns were painted, she was incensed that the long, continuous mural was now a series of landscapes "framed" by the columns, and looking more the worse for wear when contrasted with the bright new paint. After all, this mural was once listed in the Guinness Book of Records as the longest in the world!

So we decided to delve a little into the history of the building just for the fun of it. What little we learnt has mainly been from material found in the National Archives and reading historical accounts of old Kuala Lumpur.

The site on which the jail stands was originally a "kampung" of houses purchased from the wife of someone called Haji Ibrahim.

Construction of the jail (then referred to as Puduh Gaol) began in 1891. It was completed in 1895, the date prominently placed above the gateway. We learnt also that the impressive outer gateway was only built later.

C.E. Spooner was the State Engineer of the Public Works Department responsible for its design, apparently based on the Bogamata jail in Sri Lanka. It cost RM327,627 to build. The main prison comprised an X-shaped block, three storeys high and "could accommodate 520 prisoners in separate cells, with a hospital, female ward and other accessory buildings".

Amazing, given the population in Kuala Lumpur in 1895 was estimated at 25,000, that the prison could accommodate one in every 50 persons living here: Was society so nefarious then?

So we looked further and discovered that there was a "civil prison" for those who had been sentenced to "simple imprisonment" and for those awaiting trial, where the cells were large and airy and the inmates were allowed to mix, although men and women were, as expected, kept segregated.

There was a hospital and the main illness that plagued the prisoners was beri-beri. Interestingly, the meals which were served took account of the different culinary expectations of different groups and an article in the Malay Mail (Sept 29, 1909) reported that "Chinese, Malays, Tamils and Bengalis have each a separate kitchen" and while rice was the "principal ingredient in the meals", nevertheless, in the "food prepared for the Bengalis, its place is taken by chuppaties". I doubt that in our modern day prisons, culinary preference makes up part of the standard operating procedures.

She was intrigued about where the gallows were located; this was tinged with a little curiosity, mixed with fear, and a healthy amount of scepticism, because she had also read a story entitled The Ghost of Pudu Prison. But nevertheless, she remained devoted to this building which she thought of as a beautiful structure; and she has kept a "watch" on the building ever since.

It was only a hundred years after it was built, when the city had crowded in around the prison, that it moved to Sungai Buloh and Pudu Jail was turned into a prison museum. By the time she discovered this building, the museum had already closed down and so she has never had the opportunity to step through its gateway.

So when the KL Structure Plan 2020 was gazetted last year, and it was announced that the site was to be redeveloped as "a significant landmark building to complement the Petronas Twin Towers and KL Tower", I told her about it.

She asked me then, and repeatedly since, if I could "save" Pudu Jail from its fate. Such is the trust of a child in the "power" of a parent. Sadly, I have no power and do not possess a magic wand; I have thus decided to write this as an eulogy to Pudu Jail.

Is Pudu Jail’s demolition and proposed redevelopment of the site to be stopped just because one child thinks it is a beautiful building? Indeed, she recognises the fact that the building, as an institution, has a history of brutality, crime and many things insalubrious.

But at the same time, it is also very much representative of the social history of the city, and as such, does it not deserve a hearing? Not to be reversed into being used as a prison, I grant you that. But with some creative thinking, good urban planning and innovative conservation to interpret the place and provide public access, could its thick walls, bleak yards, solitary cells and the gallows be reused as a monument to a system of punishment?

Perhaps in our present age, we may find this memory a little unnerving, discomforting and therefore to be avoided. Not that this sort of experience will necessarily deter those less inclined to keeping on the straight and narrow!

Perhaps, after it has been demolished, and the malevolent "spirits", if any, return to their ethereal world, everyone will forget what was originally there and they will get on with enjoying the niceties of their lives — shopping, living, playing — in places where once prisoners lived and some even died.

Advocating for the preservation of our cultural heritage is not just for the sake of nostalgia, it is about sustainability. Sustainable economic development in cities is one in which our citizens are able to improve their quality of life without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.

The challenge faced by our city’s leadership is that if they are to make a real difference, they must be able to ensure not only well-being and good living standards, but development which is environmentally friendly and socially integrated and just.

It is not simply about producing commodities which gratify immediately, but about long-term planning where the physical and social environment lasts. One where the memory of the past is always present, as a reminder of how far we have got, and within what and where we are rooted.

In a society which is obsessed with being "world-class", let us hope that this class is gauged also by the quality of our public health, and one where our society conscientiously limits waste, prevents pollution, maximises conservation and promotes efficient use of our natural resources.

And so, for a child’s memory, I will lament the passing of Pudu Jail.