One of the inmates tried to kill himself today. He used his T-shirt to fashion a noose and tied it to the bars in the toilet, but was spotted in time and pulled down, unconscious and revived.<\/p>\n
He was a snitch.<\/p>\n
For a few days Denzil, the head inmate, had suspected we had an informer in our midst. A series of cell raids \u2013 by the loathed police rather than prison guards \u2013 had been too precise, too specific, and everyone was on edge, suspicious of each other. Three phones had been confiscated.<\/p>\n
While I was away on Thursday at the anti-narcotic HQ having my hair sampled, police arrested a man attempting to smuggle about 1 gm of shabu-shabu [methamphetamine] via a goat curry during visiting hours. The drugs had been destined for \u201cthe Boss\u201d, but the exchange organized by a thirty-something Balinese inmate nicknamed \u201cCat\u201d. I hadn\u2019t had much interaction with Cat. He was rake thin, but otherwise nondescript, although other inmates told me later he was quite boastful and bragged about his connections. Denzil was given a grilling by the police, but denied knowing the visitor, and he claimed to be delivering it for a mystery friend.<\/p>\n
Cat was a marked man.<\/p>\n
I had been arrested after Joe gave my name and number to the police and then set me up by begging me to give him some hashish for a couple of joints. He\u2019d been busted earlier that day attempting to buy shabu-shabu from a bent military policeman who was under surveillance, and a search of his house yielded a lump of hash. For some reason he still can\u2019t explain, when told they\u2019d go easy on him if he gave up his supplier, he named me. This was nonsense, of course. I\u2019ve been a long-term cannabis user, but I\u2019ve never sold anything. In fact, we both used to buy from a fellow expat who frequented his bar. The police offered me a similar sweetener, but it was obvious they were lying, so the buck stopped with me.<\/p>\n
For the three days we were held at Police HQ, we were apart only when being interviewed. When we were alone together, I\u2019d invariably explode with rage, and his response was always to break down in tears. I scarcely slept those first three days and nights, my mind a vortex of emotions \u2013 knowing I was in deep trouble but also furious at the person responsible for me being there. Joe\u2019s wretchedness actually gave me strength in those days, but I realized I was never more than a hair\u2019s breadth from launching a violent attack on him. When we moved to the remand jail, it was obvious news of our arrest \u2013 and the circumstances \u2013 had preceded us.<\/p>\n
A young Brit DJ who had been busted two months earlier for ecstasy took me under his wing and gave me invaluable advice about the workings of the jail. He was due to be transferred to \u201cthe big house\u201d, Kerobokan, in two days and I sucked as much information out of him as possible. He also taught me about \u201cgigit\u201d, an underworld code that says you don\u2019t sell out anyone but yourself.<\/p>\n
DJ Mark had also been sold out \u2013 by an ex-girlfriend \u2013 and so he knew how conflicted I was. He told me I was expected to inflict a beating on Joe, and that \u201cthe Boys\u201d would organize a place outside the range of the CCTV\u2019s when I was ready. I wasn\u2019t sure when that would be. With a punishment I sometimes felt far worse than any sentence I could expect, we were locked together in the same 3×1.5m cell and slept inches apart. When he wasn\u2019t snoring, he\u2019d curl up and cry, and when we were let out of our cells he\u2019d follow me around bent double, shuffling and wringing his hands like Uriah Heep.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d told Mark to tell the Boss that I\u2019d have my showdown with Joe on Wednesday afternoon, after lockup, but that day I had the best sleep I\u2019d had since my arrest, and woke positive, determined to see this through as the better man and without resorting to violence. Mark had anticipated this however, and led me to the laundry blackspot, where Joe stood, trembling uncontrollably, surrounded by burly inmates. When I approached he fell to his knees, begging me not to hurt him and sobbing \u201cI\u2019m sorry, I\u2019m so sorry.\u201d He cut such a pathetic figure that I couldn\u2019t punch him, and instead gave him a massive right-hand slap that knocked him down. He got up, still crying and I gave him another, but was grabbed from behind by one of the Boys who said; \u201cNot the face, the guards will see. Only body.\u201d There was little more I could do anyway. He lay curled up on the ground and I turned away in disgust. Ordinarily, the other inmates would then join in for a oneminute free-for all, but because we were \u201cbule\u201d \u2013 foreigners \u2013 they left it at that, but not before the Boss announced that according to \u201cgigit\u201d, Joe was now to be treated as equal to all other prisoners.<\/p>\n
Cat, however, was in far bigger trouble. Ratting on somebody outside prison was one thing, but inside was a different story, particularly if it involved the Boss. On Friday night they inflicted a savage beating on him. We couldn\u2019t see it, but there was no mistaking the sound. On Saturday morning he was so crippled that he had to be carried to roll call and propped up while the count was taken. In Rwanda I\u2019d seen Interahamwe thugs picked out of a line of refugees by RPF soldiers and taken away to the forest. The look on their faces was the same as that on Cat \u2013 a knowledge that your time was up. Cat\u2019s very essence seemed to have gone, his \u201chumanness\u201d, and he appeared to be just a skeleton with flesh.<\/p>\n
One of the Boys told me they were worried the Boss my go too far, but Cat was locked up, alone, in the cell reserved for newcomers. A few hours later he tried to kill himself. I helped in trying to resuscitate him. Like victims of near-drownings, he recovered quickly once his air supply resumed, but it was touch and go. Although summoned quickly, the guards were slow to react, but they led him away.<\/p>\n
An hour later all the inmates were ordered into the yard and Pak (Uncle) Anton, the second-in-command of the guards, spoke to us. He is a genuinely avuncular sort who always has a smile or chat for an inmate, and on Saturday he spoke with apparent heart-felt concern for what had happened. He then asked \u2013 not ordered \u2013 the Boss and his Boys to stand in front and pledge on their honour that no further harm would come to Cat if he returned. He then had Cat\u2019s cell mates stand and pledge to take turns in watching over him to make sure he didn\u2019t try it again. Then he asked the rest of us to stand and pledge to forgive him and accept him back into the fold.<\/p>\n
It was an extraordinary performance. He didn\u2019t shout, or raise his voice, but rather spoke with love and compassion, appealing to us all to show sympathy. As he finished, Cat was brought out of the guard house, trembling, sobbing, and Cmdr. Anton asked us all to walk past him and say what we felt. Nobody said anything, but the Boss led the way and shook his hand. Everyone else did the same \u2013 some of the Balinese went further and gave him a hug, and with tears in his eyes throughout, he apologised to everyone.<\/p>\n
Later, one of the Boys \u2013 who speak the best English \u2013 came to our cell to fill in the details.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo that\u2019s it then?\u201d asked Joe. \u201cIt\u2019s over now?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d he replied \u2013 and then looked Joe squarely in the eyes. \u201cIn this place it is. But after your trial it happens again. When you go to Kerobokan it will happen again.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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