Guantánamo Diary (38 page)

“It’s because I’ve been most of the time
■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■
.” At first I had a problem starting a conversation with a foul-mouthed
■■■■■■■
, but later I learned that there was no way to speak colloquial English without F—ing this and F—ing that. English accepts more curses than any other language, and I soon learned to curse with the commoners. Sometimes guards would ask me to translate certain words into Arabic, German, or French, but the translation spun around in my head and I could not spit it out; it just sounded so gross. On the other hand, when I curse in English I really have no bad feeling whatsoever, because that’s the way I learned the language from day one. I had a problem when it comes to blasphemy, but everything else was tolerable. The curses are just so much more harmless when everybody uses them recklessly.

■■■■■■■■
was one of my main teachers of the dictionary of curse words, alongside
■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■
has been through some bad relationships;
■■■■
had been cheated on and some bad things like that.

“Did you cry when you knew?” I asked
■■■■
.

“No, I didn’t want to
■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■
. I have a problem when it comes to crying.”

“I see.” But I personally don’t see the problem: I cry whenever I feel like it and it makes me stronger to admit my weakness.

■■■■■■■■
was misused by
■■■■■■■■■■■■
and his colleague
■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■
and some other behind-the-scenes guys. I know that I am looking for excuses to acquit
■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■
was old enough to know that what
■■■■
was doing was wrong, and
■■■■
could have both saved
■■■■
job and had the other higher-ranking officers fired.
■■■■■■■■
certainly contributed to the pressure to which I had been subjected. But I do also know that
■■■■■■■■■
doesn’t believe in torture.

I used to make fun of the signs they put up for the interrogators and the guards to raise their morale, “Honor bound to defend freedom.” I once cited that big sign to
■■■■■■■■
.

“I hate that sign,”
■■■■
said.

“How could you possibly be defending freedom, if you’re taking it away?” I would say.

The bosses had noticed the close relationship developing between
■■■■■■■
and me, and so they separated
■■■■
from me when I was kidnapped. The last words I heard were, “You’re hurting him! Who gave you the orders?”
■■■■
shouts fading away as
■■■■■■
and
■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■
dragged me out of the room in
■■■■■■■■■■■■■
. And when they decided to give me a chance at a halfway humane interrogation,
■■■■■■■
appeared in the picture again. But this time
■■■■
was somewhat unfriendly to me, and used any opportunity to make my statements look stupid. I couldn’t understand
■■■■
behavior. Was it in my favor, or was
■■■■
just pissed off at everybody?
I’m not going to judge anybody; I’m leaving that part to Allah. I am just providing the facts as I have seen and experienced them, and I don’t leave anything out to make somebody look good or bad. I understand that nobody is perfect, and everybody does both good and bad things. The only question is, How much of each?

“Do you hate my government?”
■■■■■■■
asked me once while sifting through a map.

“No, I hate nobody.”

“I would hate the U.S. if I were you!”
■■■■
said. “You know, nobody really knows what we’re doing here. Only a few people in the government know about it.”

“Really?”

“Yes. The President reads the files of some detainees. He reads your case.”

“Really?”

■■■■■■■■
enjoyed rewarding rather than punishing detainees. I can say without a doubt that
■■■■■■■
didn’t enjoy harassing me, although
■■■■
tried to keep
■■■■
“professional” face; on the other hand,
■■■■
very much enjoyed giving some stuff back.
■■■■
was even the one who came with most of the ideas related to literature that I was given to read.

“This book is from
■■■■■■■■■■■■■■
said one day, handing me a thick novel that was called something like
Life in the Forest
.
^*
It was historical fiction, written by a British writer, and it covered a great deal of the medieval European history and the Norman invasion. I received the book gratefully and read it hungrily, at least three times. Later on,
■■■■
brought me several
Star Wars books. Whenever I finished one,
■■■■
traded it for a new one.

“Oh, thank you very much!”

“Did you like the Star Wars?”

“I sure do!” In truth, I didn’t really like the Star Wars books and their language, but I had to settle for any books they gave to me. In prison you have nothing but all the time in world to think about your life and the goal thereof. I think prison is one of the oldest and greatest schools in the world: you learn about God and you learn patience. A few years in prison are equivalent to decades of experience outside it. Of course there is the devastating side of the prison, especially for innocent prisoners who, besides dealing with the daily hardship of prison, have to deal with the psychological damages that result from confinement without a crime. Many innocent people in prison contemplate suicide.

Just imagine yourself going to bed, putting all your worries aside, enjoying your favorite magazine to put you to sleep, you’ve put the kids to bed, your family is already sleeping. You are not afraid of being dragged out of your bed in the middle of the night to a place you’ve never seen before, deprived of sleep, and terrorized all the time. Now imagine that you have no say at all in your life—when you sleep, when you wake up, when you eat, and sometimes when you go to the toilet. Imagine that your whole world comprises, at most, a 6 by 8 foot cell. If you imagine all of that, you still won’t understand what prison really means unless you experience it yourself.

■■■■■■■■
showed up as promised a few days later with a laptop and two movies, and told me. “You can decide which one you’d like to watch!” I picked the movie
Black Hawk Down
; I don’t remember the other choice.

The movie was both bloody and sad. I paid more attention to the emotions of
■■■■■■■
and the guards than to the movie itself.
■■■■■■■
was rather calm;
■■■■■■■■■■■■■■
every once in a while paused the movie to explain the historical background of certain scenes to me. The guards almost went crazy emotionally because they saw many Americans getting shot to death. But they missed that the number of U.S. casualties is negligible compared to the Somalis who were attacked in their own homes. I was just wondering at how narrow-minded human beings can be. When people look at one thing from one perspective, they certainly fail to get the whole picture, and that is the main reason for the majority of misunderstandings that sometimes lead to bloody confrontations.

After we finished watching the movie,
■■■■■■■■
packed
■■■■
computer and got ready to leave.

“Eh, by the way, you didn’t tell me when you’re going to leave!”

“I am done, you won’t see me anymore!” I froze as if my feet were stuck on the floor.
■■■■■■■■
didn’t tell me that
■■■■
was leaving
that
soon; I thought maybe in a month, three weeks, something like that—but today? In my world that was impossible. Imagine if death were devouring some friend of yours and you just were helplessly watching him fading away.

“Oh, really, that soon? I’m surprised! You didn’t tell me. Good-bye,” I said. “I wish everything good for you.”

“I have to follow my orders, but I leave you in good hands.” And off
■■■■
went. I reluctantly went back to my cell and silently burst in tears, as if I’d lost
■■■■■■■■■■
, and not somebody whose job was to hurt me and extract information in an end-justifies-the-means way. I both hated and felt sorry for myself for what was happening to me.

“May I see my interrogator please?” I asked the guards, hoping
they could catch
■■■■■■■■
before they reached the main gate.

“We’ll try,” said
■■■■■■■■
. I retreated back in my cell, but soon
■■■■■■■■
showed up at the door of my cell.

“That is not fair. You know that I suffered torture and am not ready for another round.”

“You haven’t been tortured. You must trust my government. As long as you’re telling the truth, nothing bad is gonna happen to you!” Of course
■■■■
meant The Truth as it’s officially defined. But I didn’t want to argue with
■■■■
about anything.

“I just don’t want to start everything over with new interrogators,” I said.

“It’s not gonna happen,”
■■■■■■■■
said. “Besides, you can write me. I promise I’ll answer every email of yours,”
■■■■
continued.

“No, I will not write you,” I said.

“OK.”
■■■■■■■■
said. “Are you alright?”
■■■■
asked.

“I’m not, but you may surely leave.”

“I am not leaving until you assure me everything’s alright,”
■■■■
said.

“I said what I had to say. Have a good trip. May Allah guide you. I’ll be just fine.”

“I am sure you will. It will take at most a week and you’ll forget me.” I didn’t speak after that. Instead I went back and lay myself down.
■■■■■■■■
stayed a couple of minutes repeating
■■■■■■■■■
“I am not leaving until you assure me everything is alright.”

After
■■■■
left, I never saw
■■■■
again or tried to get in contact with
■■■■■
. And so the chapter of
■■■■■■■■■
time with me was sealed.

“I heard yesterday’s goodbye was very emotional. I never
thought of you this way. Would you describe yourself as a criminal?”
■■■■■■■■■
said the next day.

I prudently answered, “To an extent.” I didn’t want to fall in any possible trap, even though I felt that he was honestly and innocently asking the question, now that he realized that his evil theories about me were null. “All the evil questions are gone,”
■■■■■■■■■■■■
said.

“I won’t miss them,” I said.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■
had come to give me a haircut. It was about time! One of the measures of my punishment was to deprive me of any hygienic shaves, toothbrushing, or haircuts, so today was a big day. They brought a masked barber; the guy was scary looking, but he did the job.
■■■■■■■■■■■■■■
also brought me a book he promised me a long time ago,
Fermat’s Last Theorem
, which I really enjoyed—so much so that I hungrily read it more than twice. The book is written by a British journalist and speaks about the famous De Fermat theorem that says the equation A
ⁿ
+ B
ⁿ
= C
ⁿ
has no solution when
n
is greater than two. For more than three hundred years, mathematicians from all around the world were boxing against this harmless-looking theorem without succeeding in tackling it, until a British Mathematician in 1993 came up with a very complicated proof, which was surely not the one De Fermat meant when he wrote, “I have a neat proof but I have no space on my paper.”

I got a haircut, and later on a decent shower.
■■■■■■■■■■■■■
was not a very talkative person;
■■■■■
asked me just one question about computers.

“Are you going to cooperate with the new
■■■■■■
?”

“Yes.”

“Or anybody who’s going to work with
■■■■
?”

“Yes.”

The guards wanted to be baptized with the names of characters in the
Star Wars
movies. “From now on we are the
■■■■■■
and that’s what you call us. Your name is Pillow,”
■■■■■■■■■
said. I eventually learned from the books that
■■■■■■■■■
are sort of Good Guys who fight against the Forces of Evil. So for the time being I was forced to represent the Forces of Evil, and the guards the Good Guys.

“
■■■■■■■■■■■■
, that’s what you call me,” he said. I also called him
■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■
was in his early forties, married with children, small but athletically built. He spent some time working in the
■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■
, and then ended up doing “special missions” for the
■■■■■■■■
“
■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■
. I’ve been working
■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■
,” he told me.

“Your job is done. I am broken,” I answered.

“Don’t ask me anything. If you want to ask for something, ask your interrogator.”

“I got you,” I said. It sounds confusing or even contradictory, but although
■■■■■■■■
was a rough guy, he was humane. That is to say his bark was worse than his bite.
■■■■■■■■
understood what many guards don’t understand: if you talk and tell your interrogators what they want to hear, you should be relieved. Many of the other nitwits kept doubling the pressure on me, just for the sake of it.

■■■■■■■■
was in charge of all the other guards. “My job is to make you see the light,” said
■■■■■■■■■■
, addressing me for the first time when he was watching me eating my meal.
Guards were not allowed to talk to me or to each other, and I couldn’t talk to them. But
■■■■■■■■■■
was not a by-the-book guy. He thought more than any other guard, and his goal was to make his country victorious: the means didn’t matter.