It had to be a bad dream. Petrified, not from the premeditated assault on me, but from the sight of the guard. I was expecting the malnourished one, but this guard was a splitting image of the Disney Princess Fiona, only uglier. She was enormous, creepy and hideous. A pale-skinned ogre with a mouthful of missing teeth in uniform.

Even through the revolting sight of the never-once-shaven legs, the multi-coloured varicose veins spiralling up them were not inconspicuous. I wondered what she looked like down south. (more…)

I stole the Cameroonian’s sorry excuse for a Polish-English dictionary the day before my transfer. I mean, I could’ve pinched an apple or two, or a tube of toothpaste from the lesbian, but at that point, the dictionary seemed more like a life-saver than a bucket of nourishing apples. It was tattered beyond recognition, missing a bunch of alphabets, but it would go on to save my neck more often than once. (more…)

En route to my new home, I sat pondering which one of the prisoners I wanted to pummel to death first. The transport van was configured in such a way that each inmate sat knee to knee directly opposite the other.

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In the midst of battling with my numerous mental issues, I’d become stricken with the biblical curse of “the woman with the issue of blood”. In other words, my menstrual period wouldn’t stop. I had my period everyday up till the minute I left detention, and this would later go on for a whole year. Doctors, Gynecologists, Endocrinologists, Shrinks,Faith healers, Witch doctors, would later diagnose this affliction as stress-induced. My monthly period wouldn’t stop because I was stressed out of my damned mind. (more…)

Life in cell 105 was absolutely fantastic! I suffered from dementia, chronic insomnia, melancholic depression and a string of other mental disorders I couldn’t quite put a finger on. (more…)

So help me God, I will not relate the revolting sight of that toilet.

Saturday morning 6a.m, the siren went off indicating the morning’s head count.

Somewhere inside me I still harboured hope that the nightmare would be over in a matter of days and I could put the whole ordeal behind me. (more…)

Mulling over why I had to travel in a prisoner transport van, it became clear when the doors were opened. The media orgy was inconceivable. Momentarily blinded by an explosion of flashlights and microphones being shoved in my face, it was too late to duck. (more…)