One of life's simplest but greatest pleasures is a good nights sleep. As a prisoner, it took a long time before I could sleep soundly. The thought of sharing a room with convicted strangers, an uncomfortable bunk, unfamiliar nightly noises and a mind constantly thinking of loved ones; were but some of the impediments to blissful sleep.
After acclimatizing, sleep came easily enough. Falling a sleep was no longer a problem but being aroused from sleep remains a periodic issue.
For much of my life and especially as a teen, I was not a morning person; it was only after loss and tragedy that I learnt to consider each day as a blessing. On school days, mum would gently knock on my door, open it and lovingly coax me from dreamland. Knowing full well that I would simply turn over for a few more minutes of slumber, she would then shout to me as she prepared breakfast downstairs. Only at the sound of her second or third attempt, would I reluctantly rise. That was the best way, my fondest memories of waking up. Mum's method could never be replicated, but she spoiled me in that I still required a few pushes of the snooze button before I finally woke up.
Unfortunately, I have been awoken in some of the most crude ways possible. As with many others, sounds awaken me rather easily. Even at home, sounds used to wake me but these were comforting in their own way. The rustling of palm trees against the roof, dads joints creaking as he ascended the stairs, the cat pleading to enter the room, adhaan being called out, dad mowing the lawn and the like; were sounds that comforted in as much as they disturbed.
In prison, I have awoken to a plethora of sounds which elicit the worst of emotions. For hundreds of days, my after fajr sleep (the best sleep ever) has ended with the traumatic sound of the cell door being unlocked. The gigantic keys make the most horrifying clank as they turn the robust locks. It is a sound that not only jolts me from even the deepest of sleeps, but is also an emphatic reminder of where I have awoken. It is a sound that is impossible to get used to.
Occasionally, I have been crudely awoken by the sounds of men vomiting, coughing incessantly, farting at decibel levels sound enthusiasts would admire, screaming in nightmares, having sex, snoring at octaves only sopranos could outdo or simply deciding to blast a radio or TV at full volume, with no care in the world.
Sound, though, is only one sense. Long ago (and hopefully soon again), I remember occasionally being awoken by a kiss or caress. Fortunately, I haven't been awoken in that manner in prison! Prison beds are what offer a great challenge. The steel double bunks wobble at even the slightest movement. Having someone above or below, is frustrating and at times, simply infuriating. Their every motion is felt making me wonder how sailors even get used to sleeping on boats.
I have learnt to deal with sounds and touch, to some extent at least. There is however one manner that robs me of sleep to which I cannot return or ever get used to; being awoken by smell.
There are times when men defecate or fart resulting in a stench indescribable by any metaphor. I once had the horrific task of cleaning out a deep freezer that was filled with only meat, meat that had been rotting for over three weeks. I didn't think that anything would ever compare to that, until I experienced the potential of men. The stench is exacerbated by rooms without decent ventilation and air freshener makes no difference at all. All I can do is bury my face in my pillow and wait it out.
These putrid odours fully awaken me into instant nausea and even scares my fatigue away.So the next time a seemingly nagging voice, meow, lawnmower, adhaan or restless spouse awakens you; remember that someone dreams of having just that!
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