And like that, my Guardian Angel appeared – Reliving my past trauma

BY SIMONE J. SMITH

When I got out of my first cold shower, the girls were sitting there quietly talking with each other. As I sat down, I noticed that one of the girls had gone back to sleep. I thought to myself, “We just woke up. How could you be sleeping again?” After one day in that cell, all of my questions would be answered.

I sorted through the small, plastic bag of things that the guards had allowed me. I had three, or four of my Somali dresses, my toiletries, and a book that would become the centre of my existence. I noticed that the empty plates were still by the gate, and the steel door that was in front of it was closed almost shut, only leaving a sliver for you to hear the guards laughing, and the Spanish droning from the local news.

I leaned against the wall, and took in my surroundings. The walls were yellow, and the ceiling was high. I noticed that there was not a clock on the wall. Right away I felt disoriented. The only window in the room was in the make shift bathroom, and it was high on the wall. I had no idea what time it was.

The girls had stopped chattering amongst themselves, and now they had turned their attention to me. “Your name?” The older of the two girls took the lead in speaking to me. “My name is Simone. Your name?” “Rosanna,” she replied. She smiled at me, and said something else in Spanish that I could not identify. I shook my head and smiled. She figured out right away that I was doing my best to communicate.

The gate rattled open, and an officer who I had not seen the night before stepped through the gate. I was instantly drawn to his energy. He was tall and skinny, with a friendly face and light green eyes. Our eyes met, and it was strange. I felt a familiarity and warmth that I had not expected from anyone, especially from a prison guard. He greeted us all with a friendly smile, and bent over to pick up the empty trays. With one final look at me, he exited, but not before he stopped to look back at me. His gazed seemed to pierce through my fear. I sat there trying to figure out exactly how to take in what I was feeling in the moment. He quickly turned around and walked out. He left the steel door open so that we could actually see what was going on outside the four walls that had become our home.

The girls chatted excitedly and looked over at me curiously. “He like you?” The younger of the two finally spoke, and this is what she had to say. “Like me. No!” I laughed. I had felt something, but to have someone else call it out was hilarious. Here I was, sitting in a holding cell in another country, and somehow I had attracted the attention of a complete stranger.

I am not sure why knowing that someone was attracted to me made me feel better in that moment. Maybe it was because I felt so horrible inside; I really thought that my external reflected it. I had no make up on, my hair needed to be re-braided, and I didn’t have the beauty luxuries that I was used to. I decided in that moment to at least do something that I was in control of. I was going to make sure that my external did not reflect my internal turmoil.

I sat up, placed my neck pillow behind my back, and began to re-braid my hair. I don’t know how long I had been braiding for, but the gate opened again, and the same warm guard came in with our lunch. He placed it on the ground, and smiled at me. I smiled back with all the warmness I could muster.

I didn’t know at the time, but this man, this officer would become my guardian angel during my time in the Panamanian holding cell.