One Day

Every morning in my cold cell, through the barred window, I greet the bright rays of the sun as it rises in the east. I reflect on Mother Africa and all of God’s creations that are blessed to feel the power and energy of her sunrise.

- Khabyr Hadas

As I lay on the steel grate that holds the thin and lightly padded mattress, I give thanks to the Creator for allowing me to survive yet, another day.

As I contemplate and speculate on the events that will transpire this day, I hear the subtle breathing of my cellmate sleeping.

After urinating to unleash the poisons that I have consumed the previous day, through the small barred window I observe the 3 -story guard tower that hovers over the graveled recreation area. On top of the tower sits an octagon-shaped observing area, which is usually accompanied by an armed guard that paces the space with his automatic rifle. Only he knows the personal name of this deadly weapon he named and will gladly use if a prisoner attempts to exhibit any gestures of escaping.

This area is also surrounded by two (30ft) cyclone fences with razor sharped barbed wire and electric voltage that will cook any prisoner who grabs it.

It is now 6 am, and the selected cell doors open for prisoners who are randomly picked for urine tests and the “Pill Line.” The day as a slave has just officially begun! On my tightly secured and structured block, the head slave driver greets the 250 captured men on the loudspeaker “Main Line out,” this is the call for morning breakfast.