Notes from My Cell, April 18

Once again it is almost too cold in the cell. I've got my shawl-blanket wrapped up tight around me. The sky outside is a dismal gray, as if caught between rain and shine. I'm almost done with the latest novel-- a newer twist on Don Giovanni-- what if he were an eighty-year-old writer in today's South Africa? What if his mother had Alzheimer's and he went to visit her in the nursing home, and he was painfully aware of losing her? What if all his loves were against the backdrop of being an anti-Apartheid white Boer during all the troubles? What would he have to say about the current Iraq war? It's a rather good read, Before I Forget, by Andre Brink. I see it was once spoken of on NPR. I am worried though what book I'll read next; I think I've run through the stack of good ones.

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They took Suzie away in the middle of the night, poor girl, to put on the deportation plane back to Slovakia. Her whole family lives here now, and she's a young girl. Now I begin to wonder if they didn't take my Syrian friend off like that also. I'd hoped perhaps her husband had simply come in the middle of the night with bond money after all. I guess I will never know.

Off went Nadine, too, on short notice this morning- the prison bus came and picked up four women. Another bus was already through earlier this week, but I believe that one was federal prisons and this one is state prisons. Tanya got released after court today. She is also quite young and she was so gravely repentant while she was here. It all feels rather empty now.

Last night there was quite a loud fight, for some time, and it was so much wild yelling I couldn't understand any of it from my cell upstairs. Then, after nightly lockdown, a few girls with too much sugar in their systems were yelling to each other through the air vents. Not very enjoyable for the rest of us. Apparently they exhausted themselves by morning- it was pretty quiet most of the day.

There's a bad cough going around downstairs and I'm tempted not to be out in the dayroom much. Everyone is being rather germophobic too, so there is some tension, especially directed at the woman who appears to have brought in the cold.

Tonight so far, after supper, is far more subdued than last. Two girls are in lockdown for fighting. 23 hours a day--ouch. I forgot to mention I haven't been allowed a visit to the library yet. I keep asking. Otherwise, one could do worse than the Bible and the Qur'an as companions this next several days.

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The guard just came in and put another girl on lockdown for five days. Poor girl--she made a hair tie from the top of her sock, she said it was falling off anyway--still, it's considered destruction of federal property. She has not had much luck in her time here. Meanwhile, everyone's calling the 63 year old "Old Lady," and I haven't been able to make them stop. She is recovering from her usual habit of Clonepin, Percocet, and vodka. I understand its a bad combination for driving. I hope they will finally accept her, she is sweet, and also quite lonely.

The Friday night sandwich special is about to arrive, and someone's aunt sent about 100 gallons of Koolaid mix through commissary. This is grounds for a party. Time to go.
LeAnne