Engl 399 - Caliban and Otherness

Razan Abu Saleh

Mr. Alexander Musleh

ENGL399

19 October 2018

Silar

27 December 2011/ Avenal State Prison for Women-California

I opened my eyes and noticed a small light on the ceiling greeted me with a bright stare. I got out of the bed with a slight moan and felt an ache in my back. My back felt like I carried weights yesterday, but I had not. In fact, my pain was due to the dreadful bed I slept on.

This day was the second in this prison. I don't want to describe the first day because of its terror. So, I sat in the corner of the frozen room. I can see the sharp corners at the edge of the rooms. The walls were the same thick grey stone as the buildings of the region I lived in, but instead of a wide window with a flower box there was a mean barred opening with thick metal bars and no glass. These walls carried in their pale colors memories of burdened women who were, and still are, in this dismal jail.

Dark, empty and cold, this is what prison look like. The jail’s cell is nothing but just four walls, a bed on the left wall and a toilet on the opposite one to entertain yourself with that view and that lovely fresh air. When that metal door closes behind me I feel as if something suffocates me.

 Life here is really miserable and unacceptable.

“It is time to eat lunch”, said one of the jailers in a rough, nasally voice.

The  is a little bit better from the previous one I’ve been in. it was consisting of a dried chicken sandwich and a salted apple placed on a metal plate that was lying on the table.” it is somehow good” i tried to convince myself.   

When lunch ended, we headed into a small yard for recreational time. The prisoners can do whatever they want in that time. Not what they want literally, but they can play sports, walk, or enjoy the sunshine. Fortunately, the weather was good today to enjoy it, but for me there wasn’t enjoyment at all. As usual, I sat on that red old chair reminiscing old times and past events and how life was not fair. I felt life treated me like Cinderella’s stepmother treated her daughters, but there was no comparison, at least in Cinderella’s story there was a happy end not like mine!  However, it was the stepmother for my imprisonment! Suddenly, my tears started to run heavily down my face, such as rain that fell unwelcome and unstoppably. Quickly, I blinked the tears from my eyes preventing anyone from noticing and feeling pity for me. After minutes of being in awe, a warm voice whispered to me “I’m Hala, a prisoner for three years. What about you ya? whats your name? “

 I did not utter a single word, instead I looked at with diggers in my eyes, and thank god she was not stupid and understood  what that look meant, so she went away.

Again the nasally voice said:” the break is over go back to your rooms.”

 I turned back to the small box, I mean my room, and I sat down on my dreadful bed. Haply, there was a pen in that room and I wished if I could find paper but there wasn’t any. Anyway, I'm not in a hotel. There were many things to write, many things to tell my fiancé about, however, I just grabbed the pen and i wrote on my arm”Ahmad, Imiss u”. After writing that, my heart sighed like a tired child for one fond look, one gentle, loving word. While crying i slept as one longing for her lover, which is to say, not at all.