Dragons & Butterflies: Sentenced to Die, Choosing to Live (61 page)

The night before the contact visit I hardly slept at all. In just over 12 hours I would come face to face with this woman who had come into my life at a time when I was at my lowest, and who had made me feel like a man again. I had not been intimate with a woman for over four years, and there was a strong physical attraction between Jai and me. It’s hard to describe the excitement I felt, and I knew Jai felt the same way.

On 12 August we were seated at a table for four, but we had eyes only for each other. We held hands and talked like excited teenagers. All around us were prisoners and their families. The guards were mainly posted at the entrance, where all visitors were thoroughly checked, but they didn’t appear to be overly concerned about what was going on in the visit area. Jai had brought a big paper bag filled with foodstuffs, and we positioned it on the table so that it shielded us slightly from view. We kissed and touched each other. My entire body reacted to her touch, but we restrained ourselves. It was awkward being intimate with so many people around, but even so it was still very exciting.

My visit with Jai was over almost as soon as it began. All the kissing and touching left me as frustrated as when I masturbated, and my groin ached. All I could do was fantasise about what it would have been like if we had gone all the way. A prison visit room was not exactly the place I would have wanted to be intimate with my girlfriend, but right now that was the best I could hope for.

Over the years, depending on who was in charge, gambling in prison would be either allowed or prohibited. In 1998, every building had opened the upstairs section of the cells and prisoners were allowed to gamble there during the day. We called this area ‘the casino’. Prisoners could also pay money to be allowed to stay in their cells during the day, where they were free to sleep all day or generally do whatever they pleased. Some engaged in sexual activities with the lady-boys. Condoms were readily available from our first-aid room, where prisoners were also treated for minor ailments.

Ever since my miraculous massage, and as a result of changing the position I sat in to draw, my back had recovered nicely, and I was once again jogging and playing football. In the afternoons on the lawn near the front gate, I played
takraw
with Arnut, a Thai friend. He had served 12 years for murder and was expecting to be released any day. He spent most of his days exercising and preparing to go home.

Every building had its Thai Bad Boys – Mafia-style youngsters, who ranged in age from 21 to 35. These guys were fearless. Around October one of the Bad Boys ripped off a Chinese heroin dealer to the tune of about 80 000 Thai baht worth of drugs. He paid half of the money to the guards for protection and smuggled the other half out of the prison to his family. For his own protection, he was locked in a cell upstairs for 24 hours. The guards were completely oblivious to what he was actually doing in his cell – which was slowly sawing through the bars with a loose-blade hacksaw he’d taken from the workshop. Nobody knew this except for those who were planning to escape with him.

One morning, Arnut was called for a visit. On his return, I could see he was very upset. I said, ‘
Mee arrai?
’ (What happened?) The police had come, apparently, and he was now being charged with another murder, a murder he had not committed. Worst of all, the police informed him that they had a witness who had implicated him. From the next day, all Arnut did was jog around the building for hours on end. Then, around 27 December, he called me aside and asked if I had a set of new clothing for him. I was excited on his behalf, thinking that maybe he was going home after all. I packed a couple of things for him, and when I handed them over he asked me to take a walk with him. As we walked, he told me about the escape that had been planned.

The break-out was set for New Year’s Eve. Did I want to go with him, he asked. This was the type of information I didn’t want to know about. Escaping is something that regularly goes through every prisoner’s mind, but planning and executing an escape is another story. I toyed with the idea, but, as a foreigner, without outside help the risks were too high, and getting away with it was also highly unlikely. The watchtowers were manned by armed guards, and the chances of getting shot were very real. If I risked it, I would become a fugitive, have to get a new identity, and be running for the rest of my life. As much as I wanted to go, I knew I couldn’t. The odds against me were too high.

I tried to talk Arnut out of escaping, but he told me he couldn’t face another life sentence.

On the morning of 1 January 1999 our cell doors were not opened at the usual time of 6.40am. Something was amiss. As 7.30 approached there was still no sign of the guards to open up. All we could hear was the murmur of conversation echoing from the other cells. Then it was well past 8am. Nobody could understand the delay. Eventually, at 8.45 the guards opened our cells and news of the escape spread like lightning. Five Thais had got out after sawing through the bars of the cell upstairs. It seemed that they had escaped at different intervals. One of them had been caught near the temple, another in the hospital, and a third had barely made it over the wall in Building 2. My friend Arnut and one other had scaled the perimeter wall and successfully escaped into the night. Needless to say, I pretended I knew nothing about it, but, when I was walking around, some of the Thais pointed their fingers at me, saying ‘
Puen kun
’ (your friend) in a joking manner. I replied ‘
Pom mai loo jok
’ (I don’t know him).

On the night of the escape, certain individuals had changed rooms; some had even gone into the corridor to gamble in the casino. These individuals, along with the room chief, were very badly beaten by the guards. Everybody was aware of my friendship with one of the escapees, so I was surprised I wasn’t asked any questions but very glad about it. The gamblers in the prison had made odds about when someone would be caught and who it might be.

Never before had anybody escaped from Bangkwang Central Prison. The Big Tiger was not so secure after all. In the ensuing days of the investigation, various officials from the Department of Corrections and Ministry of Justice and even TV news crews visited our building. When this happened, all prisoners were locked in the factories and dining room. There was going to be hell to pay, that was for sure, and many heads would roll. Our Building Chief was removed, for a start, and the officer in charge of the building was transferred to another prison. The Director of the prison was also eventually removed.

After a nationwide manhunt, we heard that one of the two escapees had been found hiding among the reeds in the river. I prayed it was not my friend. To my relief, it was not Arnut. He was still at large.

I said a silent prayer for him that night.

Towards the end of January 1999, our new Building Chief arrived. He was from Building 5 and had a reputation for being strict and incorruptible. All the guys who owned houses or private rooms and enjoyed certain luxuries were concerned. We had paid a lot of money to the previous Building Chiefs for these privileges, and nobody wanted to lose them. I volunteered to approach him. As a foreigner, there was less chance of repercussions than would be the case for a Thai.

Bribing an officer was a serious offence and everyone knew the risks, but I put a 1 000 Thai baht note in an envelope and went and knocked on the man’s door. I entered, bowed and greeted him. He gestured to me to sit, and as I did so, I slipped the envelope under one of the books on his table. Then I welcomed him to the building and told him that if he needed any help with anything, he could depend on our support. He pulled the envelope out from the under the book and slid it back to me, saying, ‘
Pom kin kowe young deeor
’ (I only eat rice).

The other guys were waiting outside the office. From the look on my face they gathered that my first attempt to bribe our new Building Chief had failed. We waited with trepidation to see what would happen next.

The first rule the new chief enforced was that cells could have only one TV each. This caused a lot of frustration among those prisoners who had their own private sets. Then, on Tuesday morning, 2 February, all the room chiefs in private cells were called to the office. When it came to my turn, I knew what to expect. I pulled up a chair and the chief urged me closer so that I could see what he had attached to his clipboard. It was the roll-call list for every room. He pointed to the list, indicating that all the other rooms had anything from 22 to 25 people in a cell, whereas in my room there were only 16 people. This was not fair, he said. He instructed me to find another four inmates to put in my cell. I tried to negotiate, emphasising that foreigners were physically bigger than Thais. I mentioned the United Nations’ regulations and added that, in our culture, it was unacceptable for men to sleep in such close proximity to one another. I threw in the word ‘embassy’ a few times, which usually carried a lot of weight. In the end we reached a compromise and settled for two new room members, bringing the total in our cell to 18.

Room 17, which was also a foreign room, and housed mainly Africans, also had 18 inmates. The Building Chief didn’t even consult with them. He just added four Thai prisoners to their cell without any negotiation. I happened to bump into one of the Nigerians, who asked me how many additional people we had had to put into ours. He was very unhappy at the disparity. The difference was that the foreigners in our room were fortunate in having a few strong embassies, and the prison authorities were more accommodating when it came to Western foreigners. Nigeria didn’t even have an embassy in Thailand.

In my experience in prison, the Thais were the biggest racists, and anybody who had a black skin was immediately classified as a Nigerian. The authorities did what they pleased with them, and for the most part treated them like animals. The guy I’d talked to went back to his room and quoted me as having told him that the Building Chief had said that the Nigerians were all animals and that he would do with them as he pleased. You can imagine their reaction! All 40 pissed-off Nigerians descended on the Building Chief’s office. Four of the most influential among them, along with a translator, were allowed to go into the office, while the rest waited outside. I was in the middle of eating lunch in a Chinese friend’s house when I heard my name being called over the loudspeaker instructing me to report to the office. I covered my food with a plate and innocently made my way there. All the Nigerians were there, looking exceedingly discontented. At that time I really had no idea what the fuck was going on.

As soon as I walked into the office, one of the translators said that the Building Chief wanted to know why I had said that
he
had said that the Nigerians were all animals. I looked around the office at each person standing there. Then I looked at the Building Chief and uttered two words, ‘
Gore hok
’ (They are lying), before walking straight out the door. Nobody said a word. I went back to my Chinese friend’s house and tried to finish my lunch, but by then my food was cold and I had lost my appetite. Motherfuckers had taken my words completely out of context! I was mad as hell, not only by them twisting my words, but more by the fact that the Nigerians had gone to the prison authorities instead of speaking to me first.