Fun and games

With just two weeks to go before my release, the fun and games continue at Kerobokan — both literally and metaphorically.

The month-long sports festival has concluded over the last few days, with Block B failing to take first place in a single event — although the results were not without controversy.

In the football, I was banished to the sidelines with the Nigerian professionals after we made it to the semi-finals on the grounds I was “too good”, and our reserve side proceeded to lose 2-1 to the super-fit juvenile block.

In fairness, my replacement Oki — a portly Chinese-Indonesian drug dealer from Sumatra — had an absolute blinder, and I’m certain we would have lost by even more had I been in goal.

Somewhat satisfyingly, the juveniles went on to beat the guards in the final via penalty shootout, the latter having made it through despite us beating them in an earlier round.

Our full side will take on the Juveniles in an exhibition next weekend — my last in Kerobokan — and I suspect it will be a bit one-sided as the Nigerian boys really are in a different class.

Their leader, Austin, is also the prison’s best table tennis player but his effort wasn’t enough to see us through to the final despite him not losing a game the entire tournament.

Again, suspicion is the format has been rigged to prevent another Block B victory as previously it was two singles and one doubles, with the singles players allowed to play both matches, but this year was changed to one singles and two doubles with no repeats.

Austin is astonishing to watch play. He toys with his opponents — sometimes serving from 20 feet behind the baseline — and applying such outrageous spin that you can’t follow the ball’s flight. Just for practice, he’ll play on one leg, left-handed, pirouette 360-degrees between shots, give his opponents 20-point starts, and still emerge the winner.

Unfortunately our doubles pairs were not in the same class, and so Block B’s six-year reign is over.

Friday was more like a school sports day, with tug-of-war, sack races and even a marble-and-spoon relay, which prompted a security alert.

After the first leg, one of the metal spoons mysteriously failed to make it back to the judges table (they are banned in jail because they’re used to prepare a heroin fix) and the guards threatened to cancel the rest of the events unless it was found. It was eventually handed in without reprisal.

That sort of naughty schoolboy behavior follows on from the open visit days we had on Galungan (Balinese New Year) a couple of weeks ago.

Visitors were allowed inside the prison grounds and I had a wonderful afternoon with friends, sitting on the lawn surrounded by hundreds of prisoners and their families having picnics. It was all so normal, until chucking out time when four visitors failed to leave.

The guards eventually decided that they had probably left but failed to collect their ID cards, but the next day one of them was discovered in the druggie block, off his head, having enjoyed a crystal meth bender with friends.

He got off lightly — was given a slapping by the guards and banned from every visiting again. Calling the police would have been too embarrassing.

I had a rare treat on Wednesday when I managed to see night sky for the first time in nearly seven months and spent a couple of hours gazing at the stars.

Bali Nine member Matty Norman had me assigned to supervise the painting of the tennis court — it has to be done at night because the heat makes the paint bubble — and so I sat contentedly as a dozen (paid) prisoners redid the surface.

It was a cool clear evening, and I can’t describe what it was like to just sit back in the open and stare at the sky. It must have been the paint fumes, as my eyes got a bit runny at one point.

We had to administer more committee justice last week after two of the inmates were late for appel with devastating consequences for the block.

Russian Viktor and Pakistani-Brit Khoram, both doing long stretches for trafficking and both hopeless alcoholics, were missing from morning roll call and only showed up, breathless, as the guards ordered a cell-clear out.

The clear-out was just averted, but as the guards were leaving they spotted a five litre jerry of local Arak the pair had hidden in the garden — the reason for their lateness.

The guards then searched the rest of the block grounds and discovered Pavel the carpenter’s tools, which they confiscated. The loss was devastating because it has taken him months to make the chisels from bits of scrap metal, and are vital for the amazing woodwork he does around the block.

The guilty pair are long timers who should have known better, and so we decided they would be kicked out of their rooms for a month and would have to pay the two million rupiah it would cost to get the tools back.

Despite both drinking every day since I’ve been here, they pleaded poverty and then joined forces to say we would have to throw them out by force. That is never a good ultimatum in here. By force they were evicted.

They then went to the admin office to complain about their treatment, but the guards know how it is done here. They offered them a month in the rat cell, or to accept our punishment, which had now been extended to six weeks out of their rooms. They wisely chose the latter.

I’ve been working hard around the block in an attempt to leave something of a legacy. I’m very proud of the well-stocked first aid cabinet that I initiated, and will probably leave responsibility for its upkeep in the hands of Tony de Malmanche, the lovelorn accidental trafficker.

I’ve also put in a few days of grinding physical labour in the garden, moving or removing dozens of plants and laying down new grass to give the block grounds a more open look and feel.

My hands are now sore and blistered, but it was satisfying work and seems well appreciated by my fellow inmates.

My immediate post-prison plans should become clear in the next day or so and as soon as I get confirmation about one or two things I’ll let you all know here.

Just 12 more sleeps …