L  O  V  E

Innocent she is – like a drop of hot tear
Tender she is – like Chinese silken colour
Hot she is – like the red flame
Dear she is /to me/ - like the tears of

Allah

Anon /Bulgaria/

LET US NOT LOSE OUR HOPE!

In our present situation we have to think over several matters in order to completely not lose our hope. Let us think – what next? Each one of us has been sent here for some reason. But are we concerned about our past? Do we, in the bottom of our hearts, think of our future? We all know how we look to the rest of society, and what they say about us. And look who is talking? Apparently those who are better than we are, those ho do not know how the world looks from behind bars.

To be frank, they are right. To change this thought and to feel better we have change ourselves and make progress with our “selves”. To change one’s life one needs a reflection of oneself. Everyone can find an efficient way not to experience this gehennah once again. This simplest way is one’s own decision based on private experiences from this place. We just pretend and say – ‘it’s ok – I have home, wife, kids, etc”, let’s not cheat ourselves, because we won’t change the truth that way. No one says he is all right here – well, very few maybe – but even the homeless complain.

Let us have a good look at it. It gets harder and harder: orders; prohibitions; savings – turning off water, electricity, trying to get TV-set approval. But that’s no matter, what’s worse is it is more and more difficult to get a conditional release. All of this makes the necessity of thinking of our future a very important thing. Do we really want to come back here to this “cosy place”? It is difficult to speak on everyone’s behalf, because everyone has his own point of view, his own free will, and his own mind and will do what he wants. Personally I think it’s not worth this. Now we have a lot of time here, so let’s not waste it on bullshit… I wanted to share my recollections with you, hoping that there is some better world waiting for us, not outside but inside us, and we can use it. If you want you may pray to the lord for support. When the day of your release comes you won’t be afraid, thinking hat next?

Anon /Bulgaria/

NEW   YEAR’S   EVE  IN  PRISON

The snow crisp under my footsteps and the sound dispelled my bitter feeling of loneliness. The usual flow of vehicles and people had stopped. The liveliness of the New Year’ Eve night was concentrated in the town centre.

So here am I, holding the bags full of “delicacies”, in front of the citadel. The prison is to a certain extent built very much like a castle, not devoid of some bristling austere beauty as a silhouette and façade.

The prison officers, dressed in their neat grey and blue uniforms, robust, and merrier than they usually were. Obviously the commotion of the holiday in their own houses had managed to transfer to them the fever of celebration.

The officer on duty invited me in. His warm decisive voice calmed me down. A visiting day there would be and all was well. George would have the rare opportunity to be the only prisoner in the big hall and I the only visitor. The four people from the staff were in their places. Here he was. Georgi Krajchev. He was tall, dark, with the typical Romi ethos traits, with big sparking eyes – that day they were happy, with some quiet dignity and contentment.

He was a strange person. His outer appearance, all his gestures were impetuous and concentrated, his words weighed with wisdom and experience. Although he was only 32, he had a reputation among the older prisoners. Even the prison staff respected him and he was an undisputed leader among his colleagues. He had re-read the books in the prison library several times. His favourite books were the Bible and Shakespeare. He recited whole pages by heart, they sustained him and made him wiser.

I did not want to pry into his 13 years of pain and I did not ask him questions. I had heard that he had committed a murder in attempt to save his mother from a man with a knife pointed at her in a row over some property. Not much money, an official attorney, he acted as his own advocate, muffled laughter amongst the members of the jury…They did not take into consideration his mental state at the murder of his mother….17 years sentence.

This time we did not talk about that. He was telling me of his experience, thoughts, ideas. It was quiet. We could hear each other. The prison officers were interested, time stopped. An account of contemplation during the years was streaming out of him in his need to confide to another human being. When the officer on duty signaled the end of the visit it was sudden and abrupt. Georgi rose with a sad smile. He had his usual self control and dignity, as always.

Later when I was having my New Year’s Eve dinner ith my relatives I was sort of absent minded. My thoughts were taking me to the deserted outskirts of the city with the heavy silhouette of a citadel with dimming lights, going to sleep.

Happy New Year!

Anon /Bulgaria/