A Better Decade for Simone Jennifer Smith Reliving my past trauma Part VI

BY SIMONE J. SMITH

“I wish I could understand what they are saying.” As I sat there, I heard people behind the desk talking. The officer who spoke English was the only person I understood. Over the hum of conversation, I heard the words, “Canadian,” and “Interpol.” I had no idea what they were saying, so I tuned it all out. I sat trying to figure out what to think, but in a situation like this, you are left with nothing but unknowns.

I will be honest; the part that was the most distressing about my situation was the fact that I had no say. I realized right away that people were going to treat me the way they wanted to here, and there was nothing that I could do about it. I felt all my dignity being stripped away after the first time I had to take off all of my clothes so that they could do their searches. Yes, women did the search, but there is something about being told you have to take off you clothes, and expose yourself to a stranger that is downright degrading. It was one of many searches that I had to undergo, and after about a month, I got used to it.

After my search, I was ushered back into the main room, and with a defeated spirit, I sat down. There were so many thoughts running through my head. What were my parents going to say? How long would I have to stay in Panama? What was Peter going through right now? What was going to happen with my business? Business was going well for me, and I knew that things would never be the same after this. I heard laughter coming from behind the counter, and the English-speaking officer came over to me.

“Simone Jennifer Smith,” he started. “ We are going to be moving you to holding in a little bit. Is there anything in your luggage that we need to know about?” I looked up at him puzzled. I slowly shook my head. I thought that is was a pretty stupid question. Why would I have anything on me when I was travelling? Then I thought about it. These officers only saw me as a criminal, and nothing else. Forget the whole idea of innocent until proven guilty. I know from personal experience that you are guilty until proven innocent.

“Well,” he continued, “Before we leave, we are going to check your luggage. Then we will take you to holding.” He walked away, and left me there with my thoughts again. My head was spinning, but I was determined to not show any emotion. I shut everything down. It is what I do in high stress situations. I shut off my feelers. It seemed like hours went by, and two officers came up to me. They gestured to me to stand up and follow them. We walked down a long hallway and finally we exited a set of steel doors that led to a police van. They opened the doors and I hesitated. I had no idea where they were taking me. I had no idea where I was going. Horrible images flashed through my mind as I thought of the fact that I was alone, and these people could do anything they wanted to me.

They noticed my hesitation. The female officer who was there nudged me forward gently. I reluctantly stepped into the van, and the doors closed behind me.

It was a gorgeous day, and if I were not otherwise occupied, I would have enjoyed how beautiful the day actually was. All that I could think about was the final destination. Where was I going? What did the next 48 hours have in store for me? Inside, I wept.