Jailed In China

Author's Note

The following 3,000 word essay, "Enchained In China!" is a condensed version of a much broader story, "Within the Dragon's Teeth". If you wish to read a more detailed and factual account, the following nine chapters "A Night on the Town", "Wiped Out!", "The Boys In Black", "My Last Four Days", "Rage and Rancor", "Taken In", "Accusations", "A Clear Blue Sky", and "A Chinese Oz", cover the same ground in more detail. Enjoy!


*In April of 2006 I was sent to prison in Guangzhou, Guangdong Province, PRC. I was held there for six months. The essay below briefly describes the four days leading up to the arrest.


Night of Despair


April 19, 2006
The gate of thick steel bars clanged shut behind me, followed by a second solid metal door behind it. The collective sound they made reverberated throughout the cavernous prison I had just been led through. I was the only person who had been processed that time of night and it appeared that everyone was sleeping, meaning--my arrival most likely awakened everyone within earshot. I realized only then that I had stopped breathing a moment before. I exhaled my last breath of freedom into my unwelcoming new home; a Chinese prison.


Clicking footfalls of the guard faded along with the echoes of my entrance. I stood where he had left me, holding my cumbersome footlocker in both hands, completely at loss of what to do. A long, narrow room stretched before me, the left side dominated by a wide platform were twenty motionless bodies lay, snoring beneath a mottled sea of drab green army quilts. Unbelievably, after all the noise of my coming into the room, everyone remained motionless, except for one.


Near the doorway upon the platform, a boyish face with a mop of unruly hair propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes wide with wonder, staring at me. Someone squatting on the floor beside me nearly yanked my prison trousers off, urging me to sit down--I did, though somewhat cautiously. The young man who woke up spoke to me in English, surprisingly. "Do they give you paper?". I nodded, opening up my box and rummaging through my meager supplies until I found it and gave it to him. He studied it for a moment, then wrinkled his brow curiously, "No money?" I looked at him bewildered, then realized the paper contained information about my possessions when I was processed in. "No, none. At least... not here." I said feebly, wondering how that would affect my well being.


He smiled and shook his head knowingly, as if to say, "everyone comes here without money". He then retrieved a small dog-eared notebook of wispy rice paper from beneath his bed and began to copy down my information, a plastic pen refill clutched nimbly between his fingers in lieu of a pen. He returned it to me and said, "Sleep over there." He whispered to the trouser-pulling man, who motioned me to follow. The entire building was quiet and very cold. It was then that I noticed large open window spaces high above, a cage of bars surrounding them.


Several human lumps down the platform a small open space was pointed out to me. Beside it protruded two dark brown feet, each ankle sporting a thick steel bracelet, both connected by a short length of heavy chain. I saw no other shackled feet in sight. Perhaps that was why the spot was empty. A small shudder raced down my spine. I returned to the door where I had left my footlocker, slumping beside it, trouser puller only staring at me. I melted over the box top and closed my eyes, trying hard not to think of anything. But my mind wandered back to several days previous, when I was not worried about anything more than enjoying the evening and preparing for a week in Hong Kong with friends. I was now firmly entrenched in this cold hell hole--how did things go so wrong, so quickly?


Street of Thieves


April 14, 2006
My forty fifth birthday was two days away and I was going to enjoy it in Hong Kong. I was going there to scope out the job scene, pass out my CV and stay with a married couple I hadn't seen in a bit. I had withdrawn a large sum of money for the trip only hours before and had my passport at the ready. The plan for the evening was simple; have a few drinks with friends, go out for food and a massage, then retire early so I could catch the 6:30 am train out.


After having drinks with some friends at the bar, I went searching for food. I headed for Xiao Bei Lu, where the food vendors set up on the street. Sitting curbside with the other riffraff, I caught the attention of a near toothless granny in her Mao pajamas, smoking from a huge bamboo tube, the opposite end stuck in a pail of water. She babbled something incoherent in her dialect the whole time I was eating, not sure at all what she was enjoying from her bong.


There are two types of massage places in China; expensive and cheap. The expensive ones usually get you a locker, a shower, pj's and sometimes a food buffet. The cheap one gets you a massage and perhaps a cup of green tea. The place I had just walked to was in between--no locker, no buffet, but pj's, some orange slices and green tea. Here among dingy walk-ups, their muted windows encased in rusting iron gratings, stood a beautiful young Chinese girl dressed in a golden satin ball gown fit for Cinderella. She stood behind a small podium, a brightly colored neon sign above her head, flashing the parlor's name. The pseudo-princess escorted me inside and upward, away from the grim alley below.


The two girls that I knew weren't there, so in broken Chinese, sign language and a little English I explained my wishes to a new girl, no problem I thought, I did know how to say in Chinese, "A little harder" (Chong yi dian) and "A little softer" (Qing yi dian), essential for surviving a Chinese massage, the latter phrase being the most frequently used. I can't recall ever once telling one of the strong handed, peasant girls she wasn't grinding her elbow, thumb or finger joint deeply enough into the soft tissues of my body.


Soon she had me soaking both my feet and half my legs in a large wooden tub filled with very hot water, containing over 25 Chinese herbs; who needs a massage after that I wondered? After 15 minutes, she removed the tub, returned with fresh tea she insisted I drink, and began massaging my feet as I lay smiling with pleasure as her hands worked magic on my now water-wrinkled feet. The girl stared at me closely in an odd way as she worked. I began to feel woozy, something didn't seem right, then...oblivion.


Unpleasant Awakening


The early morning light woke me, a stray ray of sun streaming through a gap in the grimy curtain from behind me. My head was thumping at the temples. "What had I drank?" I wondered. "Where were my clothes?" I had hidden them as usual, beneath the recliner I now sat upon, but nothing lay beneath it except a dozen dancing dust bunnies. I did what all people do in a situation like this--I panicked. "Xiaojie! Xiaojie!" (Miss! Miss!), I shouted down the hallway. Two young girls came scampering down the way towards me. When I explained my things were missing, they disappeared and soon returned with a well dressed gentleman, clutching a static-crackling two-way radio. He sat across from me as I explained exactly what happened, the fact that I had been drugged and robbed only now sinking in.


To completely appreciate my panic understand what I had lost. In my now missing trousers where: my passport, my wallet with $2,000 USD and China Bank debit card and my mobile phone. Everything!. The man asked for my phone number and then called it using his own cell phone. He spoke rather calmly to the other party, something I would not have been able to do. After he rang off he explained to me that the thief now wanted money for the return of the passport; ¥15,000 RMB in fact. I laughed and dropped my face into my hands in disbelief. Realizing that nothing good would come of this, I told him to forget it. I stood up and paced a bit, only then realizing I had no pants! Just as I was wondering how if I could walk down the street in my underwear, a girl came in excitedly holding my missing trousers! They had been dumped in the adjoining room, but after a futile search that was all to be found, oh--and a ¥10 RMB note overlooked by the thief, still crumpled up in a front pocket. My pockets a lot lighter, my head a lot aching, I headed to a nearby McDonald's for the comfort of a cup of coffee to mull over my situation.


A Compassionate Teller


Saturdays, most banks in Guangzhou are open. I went to explain my situation at my bank, which turned out to be useless because I had no I.D. They did say however that a manager would be there on Sunday and to come back. Without much choice, I went to the Xiao Shan Bar, the very place I had left the night before, and sulked in a corner. A friend took pity on me and gave me ¥100 RMB to get me through the day. I spent part of the afternoon drinking on his bar tab, then later I took a walk to clear my head; Guangzhou pollution does wonders for an anxious mind.I ended up with a group of local taxi drivers, who were waiting for customers from the Holiday Inn, opposite a small shop where we sat among folding tables and small plastic stools, drinking beer, shelling peanuts and flirting with hookers, who also waited for customers. Together we all watched the day's waning light; the day was either ending or just beginning, depending on the line of work my companions were in. Later that evening, with the help of one of those hookers who spoke good English, I made a police report of my stolen property,but it seemed to be a waste of time. I did get a hand written report to keep with me however, should anything turn up. That paper would come back to haunt their entire substation, as well as their captain. The translating hooker took me to her place for dinner and a movie. Food was ¥6 RMB steamed dumplings and the movie was a bad Chinese soap opera. She tucked me in and went off to work for the night--I slept like a baby.Sunday was no better at the bank, but a teller did something extraordinary--he gave me ¥50 RMB from his own pocket! I passed the day the same as the last. Monday after going through the entire story again with the manager, I was given a new card and used it immediately to get cash. I still had several thousand RMB in the account--thank the gods the thieves hadn't figured out my pin number!


From Reprieve to Rage


For two days all was well with the world. I was a joy to be around again, or so my friends told me. I had drinks in the pub, ate out with friends and made plans to get an emergency passport to continue on to Hong Kong the following week. Wednesday my day went as usual. I was told by a friend of another street area with excellent lamb kabobs, so I went searching. I felt as if though I were on a Hollywood back lot late at night set somewhere in a Chinese neighborhood. It was highly unusual for the streets to be so empty. No food carts, not even hookers. Strange.


Running out of money, I looked for an ATM kiosk. After a few twists and turns down various routes I found one. The machine took my card almost too greedily as it processed my transaction--I distinctly heard the whirring noise when the machines count the cash inside. The small door slid open and I stood looking at an empty hole! The apparatus that usually has the money clamped within it's rubberized claws were empty. As I stared in total disbelief, the green letters glowed from behind the silvery glass as if mocking me, "Please take your cash"! Then just as suddenly as the door had opened, it slammed shut and the screen went blank. Absolutely dead electronic silence. No whirrings, no lights blinking, not even a paper receipt to mull over. I began prodding buttons, "ENTER" and "CANCEL", over and over--still nothing. In an instant the entire weight of the past weeks' frustrations crashed down on me. No money! No card! No I.D.! No hope! No luck! I remember yelling at the machine, screaming in fact. I pounded the control panel with my fists, all the while yelling obscenities at the dead screen...then, my second oblivion within a week.


Missing Pieces


The Garden Hotel loomed behind me, lit up with spot lights like Grauman's Chinese Theater, and I wasn't sure how or when I got there--the events proceeding moments before, a blur. I was extremely fatigued, as if I had just been the sparring partner in a boxing match. I walked a half block to an 24 hour Net Cafe. I paid for several hours, found a private booth, curled up before a computer and fell asleep immediately. In the morning I washed up in the unisex bathroom, trying to drown myself with copious handfuls of cold water. I noticed the palm of my left hand had a mysterious cut, dried blood staining the skin. I retreated across the street to the Hill Bar yet again, where I had some things stowed away. Since it was still too early to be open, I snoozed on the patio around the side. I got up a few hours later and noticed my hands trembled slightly. I entered through the back door and saw a familiar figure hunched over the bar, alone. His face was grizzled with several days of stubble, his blood shot eyes swam in folds of grey flesh. His smile looked more lecherous than friendly. "Hello Mich, what brings you here so early?" He attempted to order me a beer, but I quickly declined. I explained that I had lost my bank card to a malfunctioning ATM and that I was about to go look for it. Peter transformed before me, his eyes glistening afresh, his former sneer now a welcoming facade. He was in debt to me for several thousand RMB, no doubt thinking now he could get more. "I'll go with you!" He clapped his hands together, rubbing them together in a scheming way, as he always did.


Fifteen minutes later I was at a loss. Nothing on the streets looked familiar! After passing by several banks on two different streets I gave up my quest. I had also lost track of Peter in the interim--so much for his help. During my walk back I noticed an unusual amount of police cars going both ways on the street I was on. The hairs on the back of my neck raised in primordial fear. I returned to the bar, this was going nowhere I thought.


A Man of Confusion


While Emailing my sister to explain my situation, a dark knot of people entered the front door of the bar. A contingency of "Jĭng Chá" (policemen) were all looking at me. From the clump of uniforms came a singular man, walking to my table. He had blood shot eyes and the ruddy complexion of a drunk, and as he leaned toward me, the strong smell of "Bai Ju" (Chinese wine) wafted off him. "Paaashh-paawt-uh?" he said rather strangely. My look of confusion caused him to repeat it more slowly, sounding more ridiculous, "Pa-a-a-sh-h-h p-a-a-w-t-uh!" I turned toward nobody in particular, hunching my shoulders with hands heavenward, "I have no clue". He sighed out another lung full of his putrid dragon breath my way and straightened up. Then I was struck by a realization--this was the Sergeant of the police station where I made the report of my stolen goods! He was the obnoxious one; strutting about like a businessman delayed at the airport, talking loudly to no one in particular, waving his hands above his head. He had ignored me and the hooker the same way people ignore beggars on the street. My first impression of him had not been good and now it was doubly so. It was then a man in a business suit stepped out from behind the officers, still clumped at the entry way. He said in reasonably clear English, "He said 'passport'. He wants to see your passport". I pointed to dragon breath and said, "He knows my passport is stolen! His station took my report!"


An Event Revealed


I was told by the man in the suit that I must come with the police to their station. I was put into an unmarked SUV, sitting in the back seat beside suit-man, and driven to the very same police station where I had made my theft report only days before. There I was held for 24 hours, where I was interrogated by the Public Security Bureau, who asked me about an incident with an ATM, having no knowledge of my being robbed. Later, two detectives escorted me to the main police station, where I was formerly booked and also interrogated for several more hours; they also had no knowledge of my robbery! Then around 9:00 pm, Wednesday night, I was taken to the prison, on charges of destroying an ATM, damages--¥17,000 RMB! An incident of which I had no memory of. I had experienced a nervous breakdown for the first time in my life the night the ATM swallowed my card, changing my life forever. Now I understood why some people are left standing over a body, a smoking gun in their hand, having no clue as to how they got there or to what happened. Or people who suffer a terrifying accident, only to be thrown clear and wandering around lost in the wilderness, the debris of a crashed airliner or train, smoldering behind them. I lived in that prison for six months, another story in itself.

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