The fire within is eating me up

December 16, 2014

Dear Nightingales,

Well, I entered my second month here and the fire is eating me up, but only within so I don’t show it. Well, I miss you my dear nightingales and I miss our wonderful friends and supporters. Life begins before our birth and goes on after our end. It’s more than www (water, wind and waves). They never cease to move. Sorry for my ranting. I’m not drunk yet! Funny, eh?

Your letter (stamped December 9th) took nine days to arrive (less than earlier letters). I was so happy to see it after the 2-4 pm promenade. It cooled my hot heart (burning actually). I sometimes think of stopping all sorts of communications so I put the fire in me out. You can’t, nor anyone else can, imagine the amount of heat that engulfs my whole body when I think of you out there, especially Jena. That’s too much and could kill me.

Our group will be four before the New Year since Pascal is leaving soon. He had only eight months (did about five of them or less). He’s the quieter one (speaks only French), but he smokes. I don’t know what charges he had. You can’t but envy him now.

Did I tell you I finished George Orwell’s "Homage to Catalonia"? I might be repeating myself when I say what a great writer. Too sad he died very young. He’s a straight talker. I still drink this ugly instant coffee. No more Bridgehead coffee. Two weeks ago, I ordered some tea hoping it’ll be just black tea ("thé nature" as I think they call it in French –- I might be wrong), but I haven’t seen the order here yet. Maybe they are planting it somewhere!

I guess I have to stop here but first I’ll send you limitless amounts of hugs and kisses and I wish you the best in the coming 10 days or so. I’m thinking of you always. Please say hi to our friends and tons of kisses to special Jena.

A prison is a prison

December 16, 2014

Dear Nightingales,

Finally, I was able to contact you this afternoon at 2:15 pm or so. Jo answered the phone. It was good to hear her. I had my points ready so I said what I intended to say. I heard that all was Okay on your side. So relieved. It was the last telephone attempt that worked. I have no anxiety now. Glad Jena was good. I liked her complaint. She’s right. Someone should fix her “ABC” toy.

I spent two hours in the "library" (25 yard away). Guys were just talking to each other around the only table there. We were five (from our group) plus one (inmate) who works there. I read a little in that little place. Food is coming now at any minute (dinner at 5:30 pm). We eat it in our cells. Other non-VIP inmates are much less restricted than us.

I hope I’ll hear the good news about the new baby as soon as possible... Your pregnancy and delivery are my only concern, and sometimes worry. I hope all will go Okay. I can say from now congratulations, as this letter might be the last before your delivery. I’m just hoping for the best. I’m sure that Jo and others are doing a lot to help. Special salutes to Jo. So you said that Don Bayne is ready to immerse himself into this mess? I miss his meetings. Send him my best regards.

The weather here is always above zero (4-8 degrees or more) but drizzly and humid. It seems I still have a few Euros in my account because I received something I ordered more than a week ago (lemon and some cheese). I crush garlic (with the bottom of a glass) and squeeze lemon and keep the mix outside the glass of the window (like a fridge). I use the mix with almost all foods (bland food as you can guess). Lemon is expensive so sometimes I use vinegar (cheap).

I didn’t talk about the guards here ("surveillantes" is their name). Generally, they are very polite. Even the least polite one here (on our floor at least) is much better than the least rude one in Ottawa. I even saw one detainee getting angry at a guard who didn’t say please when he asked the detainee to get out of his cell. I was also shocked by their smiles and sort of friendship with some detainees. Another cultural difference is that all detainees shake hands with each other every day they meet. The same with the guards, they shake hands with each other, and opposite-sex guards kiss each other every day they meet. I’ve never seen this in Ottawa.

Christopher insisted again today to give me half of the big portion of food that he’ll receive from outside for Christmas. Around Christmas only, they allow detainees to receive certain food items from outside. He’s a really nice guy and the only one who helped me a lot so far (especially with new clothes he gave me and shoes and food). The others are not bad, but he’s the best.

Now, the other side of the above story. The screaming and wild banging on the cells’ doors on the lower floors (especially the third floor –- just below us) have just started for unknown reasons. At least the episodes are usually short, but they happen at awkward times (late at night or early morning). I forgot to mention that, unlike OCDC (the Ottawa Carleton Detention Centre), there’s no uniform to wear for detainees. But only guards can wear blue marine clothing, and that’s why they confiscated sweat pants that my lawyer had bought for me upon my arrival. All other colors are allowed. This policy, though it adds extra washing work for detainees, is not worse than the stupid orange uniform at OCDC (where they wash the orange uniforms for detainees). Close to 50% of all guards are black or other minorities (mostly Arab). As for detainees, according to what I've heard, the percentage of Afro-Arab is very high. (I can see the football players every day in the field down from my window, and white players are very few -- one player out of 20.) Moreover, the conversations I hear of inmates shouting to each other across the prison are in either Arabic or African languages.

Well, I have covered much in this part of my letter. However, I can conclude that “a prison is a prison” however you look at it. Nelson Mandela once asked whether he decorated his cell. He replied that he refused to lie to himself by decorating it. I say that there are only oppressive and more oppressive prisons, and no less than that.