Stuck in the middle of a riot; Part I; reliving my past trauma

BY SIMONE J. SMITH

She stood there with a makeshift knife pointed at me. The room was in chaos. Women were running around, grabbing what they could. I could hear shouting outside, but my eyes were trained on the young woman in front of me. She was wearing a scarf over her face. Her eyes were wild, as she looked me up and down. I was paralyzed. I knew that I should run like the other girls had, but my feet could not move. I stepped back slowly, and silently began to pray,

“God, please get me through this.”

A noise came from across the room, and the young woman looked over in the direction of the noise. She looked back at me, lowered the knife, and ran towards the direction of the noise. I still couldn’t breathe. I stood there holding my breath. I wanted to cry, but for now, I was just happy to be alive.

I had begun to get used to my life in Panama. One thing that I must say is that I have always been able to adapt to adverse situations. I have been through quite a bit in my life, and I know that all that I have been through was to prepare for that moment, and moments after my Panamanian experience.

I was fortunate that the women who had clout in the prison had taken to me. This made my life easy. I was not bothered at all, and after two weeks, most of the women were just curious as to why I had ended up there for what I had done.

Most of the women who were at the prison were there for trafficking or smuggling charges. I was the only one there that was not in for drug smuggling or trafficking. To many of them, I was a unicorn. An unheard of situation that they could not understand, but they were fascinated by.

I had learned quite a bit about prison life, especially prison life in a third world country. One thing I did learn is that prisoners run a prison. The guards are only there to look like authority, but they are not running the place. They are pawns in a chess game, and the inmates learn how to move these pieces on their proverbial chessboard. Whether it was sneaking in weed, cigarettes, money, or other contraband, all it took was knowing the right person.

As a natural observer, I watched everything, and learned the ropes from the angels that God had set in my life. It was nice to know that I had people who were there to watch my back. I asked questions, and observed the movement of others. I learned what not to do, how to pull my weight, how to get the things I needed like soap, lotion, and condiments. In Panama, you had to have your own creature comforts. They provided you with the bare minimum, and everything else you had to take care of.

Thankfully my mom had sent me some money, and I was able to pay back Andrea, and Angie for lending me soap and helping me out the first week that I was there. The rest of the money I kept in my bra. I had been instructed to not let anyone see how much money I had on me. If I was going to purchase anything, I had to lock myself away in the bathroom, take out exactly how much money I needed, and put the rest away. Letting others know you had money was dangerous, but they didn’t have to teach me this. I had learned this during my days in Detroit.

I was adapting. I was getting used to what my life was in that moment. What I didn’t know; the political climate was heating up, and there was a lot going in the world. The spillover was going to affect the lives of many people, and I was going to be one of them.