The Angel of Bang Kwang Prison (14 page)

We didn’t even know what the other smelt like, which I think is a huge part of falling for someone. Do you ever shut your eyes to think about someone you loved once, remember hugging them and breathing in their scent? We hit upon the idea of exchanging tee-shirts after sleeping in them; it was the next best thing. I would then sleep in his shirt and he’d sleep on mine and then when our smells wore off we’d make the exchange again for more, like addicts.

After two years the guards let us visit in the room that the embassies’ staff used to meet their charges. There was still a mesh and wire barrier separating us but it was a much quieter room. During the first visit in that room we discovered that one part of the mesh was torn, allowing us to touch fingers—I cannot begin to describe what that was like. All I will say is that I don’t think either of us slept that night.

I showed my love in wifely ways like cooking him something he liked and bringing it in to him. I also pursued the embassies and helped sort out legalities, or whatever he needed done. And I introduced him to my daughter. As a young kid Talya accompanied me a lot on my prison visits. She was adored by the guards, especially Chavoret, who introduced us to his wife, Tew, and family. Garth fell for her too and they struck up a good friendship. When she struggled with her homework and I couldn’t help her she would tuck it in her schoolbag and come with me to the prison where Garth would sort out her maths problems. They wrote long chatty letters to one another and I found it wonderful to have someone as concerned with her welfare as I was. He shared the weighty matter of parenting a young, impressionable and intelligent child.

He became involved in my prison work and would root out hard luck stories and tell me who was particularly deserving of a toiletries gift bag or whatever I could get my hands on. It was gratifying to see him taking a genuine interest in others and want to do something to help them. He befriended another inmate,
Aree
, and they took great fun in playing ‘Secret Santa’; I would give them stuff and they would sneak it into another guy’s locker or mattress.

Men always accuse women of trying to change them and there is an element of truth in that. I didn’t have much time for a pretentious surfer dude who just wanted to play his drums and get stoned, so yes, I did encourage him to develop his new interests that mirrored mine. Of course, he still managed to mess up from time to time. A particular favourite of mine was when he seemed troubled one day and I, foolishly, asked him what was up, only to be told that he had serious concerns about not finding me attractive on his release! I was so stunned that I couldn’t react ... until my next visit, a week later, when I let rip at him for being a superficial fool. I was 35 years old and quite happy to accept that I wasn’t Peter Pan, but he had hit a nerve nevertheless.

At this time Talya and I were living with Nina in a house, Radboorna, belonging to our friend Surin. He also ran a school where Nina and I taught and kept the house for his teaching staff. My days were filled with prison projects and school work but something was wrong. I had a cyst which I was trying to ignore but it was starting to make itself felt. Then, one bright February morning, I sat down on the toilet and found myself in great difficulty. I doubled-up in shock at the pain that hit me out of the blue. My body broke out in a cold sweat and everything went blurry; there was a clanging noise in my ears like the pain was a separate entity and was shouting at me. I fell off the toilet and onto the floor. I only managed to reach the door handle by clinging onto the side of the bath to support myself as the pain incredibly worsened. I need hospital treatment and fast. I booked into the private hospital where my gynaecologist worked. I had known him for a while and liked him. However, I was distressed to read in his notes that he was going to perform a hysterectomy on me, without actually telling me first.

I put my foot down immediately and refused to let him do it. I told him, instead, to just remove the problem ovary, or as much of it as was truly necessary. I couldn’t believe that he wasn’t going to ask me about what he wanted to do, and he couldn’t believe my reaction. There was further scandal when I informed him that I wanted to remain awake during the operation. He gasped and said that this wasn’t standard procedure and that I would surely pass out from the pain. I stood my ground, however, and he had no choice but to agree to it. News spread around the hospital that a
farang
woman was choosing to be conscious throughout her operation. I had a very good reason for wanting to be awake in that I had recently read about some poor guy who woke up after a minor operation to discover that one of his kidneys had been stolen for another transplant operation. I was not taking any chances. I was absolutely terrified but also equally determined to go through with it.

I was hospitalised for five days and had the operation on the first morning, Thursday. Garth was very worried about me and his imprisonment was emphasised when we realised that it would be a while before he would hear how I was and if the operation had been a success. Before my operation I was injected with a large dose of morphine into my spine to help with the pain. However, it wasn’t an effective enough quantity because I was so thin; if I had a bit of extra weight on me the fat would push against my spinal column, allowing the morphine to be processed faster into my system. Therefore, unless they wanted to overdose me, they weren’t going to be able to give me the required amount to make the operation a painless experience. However, by this stage, they were more worried about the situation than I was, because I was starting to feel mighty fine, and whistled and hummed and maybe even giggled; just soaking up those morphine vibes.

I had asked for a mirror to be installed over the operating table so I could watch the proceedings. The operation would be bloodless, so watching wasn’t as traumatic as it might’ve been. I could smell my burnt skin though as they burnt and cut. I felt like a barbequed chicken. At some point I saw the surgeon pull at something which he introduced to me as being part of my intestine. My insides were like a painting—I never realised that we had so many different colours inside us—everything is colour coded. Probably to keep me calm, the staff started to chat to me as if we were out having dinner together. They were curious about what I did for a living and why I chose that way of life. The anaesthesiologist had remained in the room to monitor me throughout the operation, just in case I needed more morphine. They were fascinated by my chosen career and were even more so when I told them that I had very little money, that in fact I barely had the taxi fare to get myself to the hospital. And now I was to stay in this private hospital for five days. I explained how money always turned up just when I needed it most; that it was all a matter of faith.

Something of what I said really struck them, and I was moved to tears when the surgeon and anaesthesiologist told me there and then that they wouldn’t be charging me for the operation. The two hour operation took four hours thanks to our interesting discussion on life and death, how to deal with grieving relatives and how to prepare terminally-ill patients. When they were finished I asked them to knock me out for the sewing up part, as, by then, I completely trusted everyone present.

I woke up sometime later, thankful that it was all over. Not many people had been told about my operation, I knew I wouldn’t be up to lots of visitors. So, I had a lot of time to worry about things, from my finances to my life in general. As a result I felt very alone and a little frightened about what the future had in store. Nina was going to come by with Talya, whom I was anxious to see. Also, of course, Garth was on my mind. If I could only pick up the phone and talk to him, I thought, but this was impossible since, at that time, he was being held in Building 10, which was solitary confinement. I had previously come up with the plan to have a request played for him on a popular radio station. He had borrowed another inmate’s walkman and was nervously waiting to hear from me.

I rang the station, 95.5, and told the receptionist that I wanted to make a dedication live on air. She asked me why and I explained that my boyfriend was in solitary confinement in prison and that I had just come through an operation and I needed to let him know that I was going to be alright. Within seconds I was greeted by the DJ who asked me my name. I told him that I just wanted Garth to know that the operation went smoothly and I was on the mend. I also wanted to tell Garth that I loved him and he was my hero. The DJ asked me incredulously how an inmate at Bang Kwang could be my hero and I replied without thinking:

‘Because he loves me unconditionally; who I am, what I am, and I feel the same way about him.’

‘Wow,’ said the DJ, ‘that’s good enough for me. What song do you want to play for him?’

I didn’t have to think about that. The Australian band, Savage Garden, had a popular song in the charts at the time and I felt it could have been written with me and Garth in mind. ‘I would like you to play “Truly Madly Deeply” please.’

The lyrics perfectly captured all that I wanted for us, all that I wanted to be for him and him for me; my wish, my fantasy, my hope, my love, and it also spoke about the new beginning that we wanted together. It also spoke about standing on mountain tops and bathing in the sea, which, of course, meant freedom to enjoy each other out in the world around us.

This was it; I had just declared my love for a criminal on national radio. Everyone would know now, from my contacts in the top echelons of Thai society to the other inmates in Bang Kwang. There was no turning back. God knows what sort of reactions I was going to get—declaring my love for a drug dealer who was currently in solitary confinement was taking a huge risk in terms of my reputation. The Thais were always so polite and curious. They had also put me on a sort of pedestal and liked looking up to me as something pure and exotic. I was in agony in that hospital bed—it hurt to reach for the phone on my night stand. The morphine wasn’t enough to deaden the pain and I was still quite groggy from being knocked out. Nevertheless, I cried my eyes out when I heard my song and the DJ’s kind words about real love, when it had finished.

Meanwhile Garth was having an epiphany about our relationship. He had been really scared for me and had been forced to imagine how he would feel if, perhaps, I hadn’t survived the operation. He even found himself praying for me. I don’t know who would have been more surprised about this outcome; Garth, me or God! Later he told me that he, too, had cried his way through the song. The whole event was directly responsible for pushing our relationship on to the next level; we were now committed to one another, for better or worse. When I next visited the prison a Nigerian inmate congratulated me on the radio stint. He thought it was really romantic and brave. Garth had told his mates in solitary confinement to listen out for me and they all reacted positively to it; a bit of old-fashioned romance goes a long way, even in Bang Kwang prison.

I was sharing my hospital room with four other women. One of them had been getting on my already fragile nerves. She was in pain like myself and spent a good part of the night talking to someone on her mobile phone, complaining about her misery and illness. I couldn’t see her as the curtain was pulled around her bed but I was scowling in her bed’s direction, fretting that her whining was going to prevent me from getting a badly needed good night’s sleep. She was upset that nobody had been to visit her and, after a while, I found myself feeling sorry for her. I suppose she was only as lonely as I felt. I never knew who it was she was talking to but I fancied that her loved one also couldn’t be with her, and when she finally got off the phone I struck up a conversation with her. We were able to offer a little comfort to one another and when I was let go from the hospital I went back in to check up on her. It hit me that I could be more genuine in my empathy for someone else since I had personally gone through feelings of utter isolation and persisting financial worries. It was something about which I could be glad—the whole experience—the cementing of Garth’s feelings for me and that it was another notch on my belt for people to trust me with their problems.

As for my worries about how on earth I was going to pay for my hospital bill; once again I was looked after. The doctor and anaesthesiologist had waived their charge but I still faced general hospital bills. I had prayed and prayed about it, going through my options. There were always my parents, of course. They would never deny me anything, but if I asked them for a loan I’d have to tell them what it was for and I really didn’t want to worry them any further than was necessary. Nina had brought in Talya and knew about the situation but she had even less money than I did. I told her not to worry, that it would all work out in the end—probably to convince myself as well as her.

Meanwhile, an old friend of mine had turned up. She was the daughter of a wealthy general I knew, and when she was a troublesome teenager, refusing to go to college amongst other things, he asked me to take her into my home. She ended up living with me for six months and proved to be a hard worker and willing helper in the projects. She also discovered a talent, and liking, for looking after people and had gone on to be a stewardess for Thai Airways. Her parents had told her I was in hospital, and she later told me that, on her return from a flight, she was at the gym when she suddenly heard a voice in her head telling her that I had saved her once, and now it was her turn to help me out. She left immediately for the hospital where I was and secretly paid the bill with money she had put away to buy a car. She visited me later at home and told me that it had been her who had helped me out. I will never forget what she did, and it was further proof for me that when you do good and bad in the world, it always returns to you like a boomerang.