Paul Jordan - The Easy Day Was Yesterday: The Extreme Life of An SAS Soldier

Wednesday 28 May

At 3.00 in the morning a prisoner in the hospital cell next door started singing. I use the term hospital loosely as thats what it was called. There were eight prisoners crammed into a cell the same size as mine with no special care or treatment. They were sleeping on the ground just like me, only they were jammed in where I at least had space. In fact, compared to the rest of the prisoners, I was in the penthouse while they were in the shithouse. The singing was bloody awful and enough to prevent any further sleep, so I got up, dug out my light bulb from my Calvins, connected it and did some more Sudoku. In the last six hours of Sudoku, Id managed to add one number. Im crap at Sudoku, but it certainly occupied my mind. Obviously some prisoners in the hospital cell thought as much of the singing as I did, because about 30 minutes into it, an argument started. There was yelling and screaming and then it stopped, and I could hear someone copping a solid beating. The beating was ruthless and the sounds of the hits were joined by the victims screams of pain and cries for help. Those damned guards shone their torches in my eyes every hour, but didnt appear when someone needed help. How had this become my life?

At 5.00 am the cage was opened with a morning arrggh from the caveman. I didnt bounce out of bed as fast as I did on the first day, but slowly sat up and got myself together. I could feel my body suffering from the effects of only a few hours sleep over the past few days and the dramatically reduced food intake. I threw on the sarong and my boots and joined my fellow prisoners at the drain. On the way I noticed that I was now getting nods and the odd morning Sir from my fellow prisoners. Morning, I would always reply, although I remained intent on keeping my distance as much as possible. Id seen the film Midnight Express, so I knew what could happen in prison when a group of men is thrown together for years on end. I knew if any of that was pushed in my direction, it would be violent, people would be hurt and I could lose my single cage. So I stayed clear of the others as much as possible.

When I wandered back into my cage the same old man was in there sweeping out. This time he had a bucket of water and was using his straw broom to mop the place. So I waited out the front until he was finished and watched the prison come to life. Some prisoners undid their bundle of blankets stored in the yard and spread them out for the day using the blankets to stake their claim over a small area of the yard. Some went for a morning walk around the yard, while others started the nasal-passage-cleansing process. At this point I retreated to my cage. The old man had finished and I thanked him and then wondered what the hell I was going to do. The old man reappeared and motioned for me to have a wash. I picked up my towel, small blue bucket and soap and walked to the pump outside my cage. It seemed the best location for a wash as the pump was positioned next to a raised slab of concrete which provided a relatively clean surface on which to stand or squat while bathing. The old man had the big communal bucket full of water waiting for me. So I dropped the sarong on a dry section of concrete and, in my massive jocks, began the process of bathing in front of an audience of 580. Even though I had a layer of sweat on my body and looked forward to a wash, the water was very cold and always a shock to the system like when you first dive into a mountain stream. After emptying the first bucket to wet my body, I soaped up while the old man filled another bucket to rinse off. I lathered up to clean all the sweat off and placed the soap on the concrete. The old man grabbed it and went to wash my back. Whoa there, mate, dont even think about it.

He insisted and so did I and Im sure he wasnt going to try that again. I poured a couple of blue buckets of water over me to rinse the soap, then the old man picked up the entire big communal bucket and poured it over me. Bloody hell, I thought I was going to drown. I dried myself and forced my wet feet into my boots being careful not to touch the soles where I was certain some as yet undiscovered hideous disease was waiting to pounce. Perhaps I should donate my shoes to science when I got out of here. Back in the cage I hid from the prying eyes behind the narrow wall of concrete that supported the gate and changed into dry jocks. Then the old man came in, took my wet jocks, washed them and hung them on a piece of string in front of my cage. I protested, but he insisted. Okay mate, whatever rocks your boat. I started to think I had my own slave.

Back in the cage, I wondered what the hell I was going to do to kill some time. The Sudoku was good, but it was getting boring. A fellow prisoner wandered straight past Ugly Guard and into my cage and told me we should walk in the mornings. I had rejected all other offers and approaches by other prisoners, but this guy seemed genuine and certainly had the measure of the guards. Okay then. I walked past Ugly Guard and nodded to him. He knew where I was going, but there was no indication he gave a shit. We did a very slow circuit of the yard and the other prisoner told me that most prisoners walked in the morning and evening as it was good for the health.

My name is Satya, he said, speaking reasonably good English.

My name is Paul, I said, shaking his hand.

You are very interesting for the other prisoners.

Yes, I can see that. I hope they get bored with me soon.

Maybe. Why are you here?

I mistakenly crossed the border by a few metres and they arrested me.

Oh.

Yeh, oh. What did you do?

I was a politician.

Oh, okay. But thats not a crime.

I fought against corruption.

Thats admirable, but a challenge in this country. So, fighting corruption is a crime?

No. But the magistrate in my district was very corrupt, a dishonest man, so I crushed him.

What do you mean you crushed him? How?

With a piece of wood. I hit him over the head. He bled a lot.

I had to stifle a laugh. This was brilliant.

How long are you here for?

Three months. I only have four weeks to go.

Do you think what you did was right?

Next time I will take a different action, maybe diplomacy.

Yeh, probably a good idea.

We completed three slow laps of the yard before he deposited me back at my cage. I decided to rest for a while. The old man entered the cage and, motioning with his hands to his mouth, said the word kanake.

Im okay, I said, Im not hungry.

The old man proceeded to give me his first lecture which went on for about 10 minutes. He knew I couldnt speak Hindi, but that didnt stop him from serving it up to me. To appease him, I picked up a packet of biscuits and ate one. He shook his head and walked out.

My cage had dried from the morning mopping, so I lay down and tried another Sudoku number. As I settled in, the cage began to fill with smoke; it literally poured through the barred hole in the back wall. This hole was about three metres up and near the top and was about 30 centimetres square. I threw on my boots and walked around the back of the cell block to see who was making smoke signals. Three blokes were gathered around a small oven made from clay trying to get a fire going, but the thing was just spewing white smoke, most of which went straight into my cage. I didnt actually mind because the smoke cleared out all the mosquitoes. The three blokes shared the oven and spent most of the day preparing food and chai. The oven itself was a simple construction and there were about five of them scattered around the yard, all owned by someone. The oven was about 30 centimetres square with a hole in the front for the wood and air intake and a hole on the top where the frying pan and pot sat. One man prepared the food, another sorted the coals, while the third cooked and sat in front of the oven fanning the fire. When they saw me watching them they smiled and offered me some chai. I said no, but thanked them and went back to my cage to continue with Sudoku.