This piece is a shortened version of an essay Francis wrote for 'Tomorrow I Will Fly', a book published in 2020 by the Emirates International Festival of Literature, written by prisoners in Dubai jails. Francis read the full version at the launch ceremony in the central jail.

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I can never put right what I have done. The wrong will not go away and cannot be corrected. Yet I still have to find a way forward even if I do not know how. I am all too aware that forgiveness may not be possible. Acceptance of this is the first step to finding a way forward. I do not want to lie to myself, and I do not want to lie to others. I hope that this honesty will allow me to find the strength to carry responsibility for my actions while seeking out my new future.

My search for the acceptance of the facts started with accepting what was happening to me in jail. I had to learn to take what comes without getting angry, and to accept kindness and support without feeling demeaned.

Like when I first walked into the large ward of ten cells, carrying my mattress and blanket. It was the first time that I had ever been with 60 serious criminals, never mind in a largely unsupervised, self-governing community of them, so I was nervous and frightened. I stayed frozen by the door for 20 minutes til the prisoner-foreman pointed to a cell where I was allocated a space on the floor for my mattress. I sat on it and looked around at a mean-looking bunch of shaven heads, everyone established in their routine. I felt a total outsider – in the wrong place, with the wrong languages, with the wrong education.

Then one of my new companions reached under his metal bunk and offered me a plastic washtub so that I could keep my few possessions together. Someone else offered me a coffee. These acts of reaching out made a vast difference and I was able to see the mass of faces as separate individuals with their own hopes and fears, in a place where we had all been flung together.

Later I was able to repay him and keep the tub, and we are still friends. When I leave jail I hope that I can carry that spirit of open humanity with me as I find myself in what will be a very new world. I will find that years will have passed, people will have changed and I will be different.

In jail no-one assigns fault. No-one blames anyone for their crime, whatever horror or failure it might have been, and whatever sentence might have been given. We are all in it together and so we never have to face reality.

So it will be a huge change to leave the tightly controlled bubble and go outside the mere confinement of prison life to join normal life outside, where anyone can say anything.

Once there I will be forced to take responsibility for my actions as I meet people I have hurt, and others I have disgusted or shocked. Some will refuse to meet me, and others will tell me what they think of me. I will have to value those who reach out and at the same time respect those who want to avoid me. I do not know how I will cope, but I am sure that an important part of facing that barrage is to cling to the truth.

I will also need to find a reason for hope. I have learnt in prison that survival is mechanical and can be done, day by day, week by week; from meal to meal, from day to night, from night to day.

I have learnt that I can go through the motions and be a good citizen, but that does not mean very much unless I find my inner purpose, the mainspring that provides the power to make me want to get up and face each new day with vigour and anticipation.

My old career will be closed to me, and I feel like any job that I might be able to get would only offer mere survival. They would bring useful (essential) income but right now it’s difficult for me to see how they could be part of any ambition or offer me the inner purpose I need.

I have always worked with people of different cultures and religions, and in an increasingly divided and shrill world, it is important that those of us who trust in the essential goodness of all mankind reach out to each other and help build a more secure and trusting world.

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