People who are incarcerated have rights and that are relatively well understood. X amount of time for exercise each day. Access to a phone/internet for x number of minutes per week. Visitation is established and the rules are understood. In detention there are no set rules. No access to soap/shampoo, phone calls, lights on 24/7, 35 guys packed into 600 square feet. Welcome to the world of detention.
The first detention center I was taken to was cramped but reasonably civilized. Imagine a room 30 feet by 20 feet (9 meters by 6 meters) covered with 6'x2.5' mats on the ground. at the back of the room are 4 showers/toilets. There is enough room for 32 mats and a walking aisle to the toilets. The matts are reasonably soft with a headrest. We were often well over 32 people so we were told to double up by nationality. As the only American I never had to double up.
The "guards" were Emiratis. As an American that was a plus for me; I was a novelty. The complex I was in housed hundreds of men in week there but I was the only one referred to as "the American." I was able to make a call on day one to my friend Stacey to ask her to take care of Cujo and let my sister know. I was able to make a call to the US embassy on Monday. They had been notified I had been picked up and since I was registered with them had already been in touch with my sister.
The food wasn't great but it was plentiful. Breakfast of hard boiled eggs, jam, and kuboos (unleavened bread... think tortilla made of flour). Lunch and dinner was a large supply of rice with beef, fish, chicken, or lamb, sauces usually a bit too spicy for me and labneh (think whole milk... it reduces the spiciness). Because tap water in the UAE is gross everyone drinks bottled water and our cell had 5 gallon containers so no hydration problems.
We were not allowed access to any reading materials. Overall, the experience in this jail, err, detention center was not great but had I left during that week I would have had no complaints.
Unfortunately, on day 7 I was moved to the African jail. Located close to where I used to live, it was easy to tell this was a big step down from the first facility. A rundown building. The guards were from Africa, most from Uganda - more about them on a different post... as much my life sucked as a prisoner as I learned one of the guard's life... different post, Steve, stay on task.
In the African jail it was also 600 square feet. The differences? The bed was hard as plywood. There was no pillow. The water came from the tap and tasted gross. The toilet was a squatty potty. Using that right is a skill I have never learned. The shower provided lukewarm water but without soap or shampoo my daily showers felt one step above useless.
Most of the detainees were in and out in 3-5 days. I was a long-termer and gained a coveted spot along the back wall along with 3 Nigerians, and a guy who became my bestie from Guinea. I'll do a post about the inmates later. What is noteworthy? It was self-policing. Meaning, the code of what was acceptable and what wasn't was there and a few jerks learned that the ruling class (the long termers) could rule what's acceptable.
Lights on 24/7, plywood beds, and food that was well below the first jail. Breakfast was the same but lunch and dinner was just off. 20+ years ago I had a lesson about how Amway/QuikStar was a scam. A student brought in the ketchup they sold and it was just off. Ketchup yet not quite ketchup. The smell of that ketchup matched the sauce for the lunch and dinner meals. By week 3 my body revolted. I not only couldn't eat lunch or dinner, it took everything I had not to hurl because of the smell. I gave those meals away and the people around me made sure I had more than enough boiled eggs.
35 guys in a tightly confined space is worse and not as bad as you'd expect. Men snore and I somehow found myself next to the loudest guys. Although we had no soap/shampoo the guys showered regularly. As a guy who was in a fraternity I know anytime you get a large number of guys in one room it will eventually smell like feet. Fortunately Muslims wash their feet regularly for prayers. I can honestly say the room never smelled bad. (Although I am not Muslim, I washed my feet regularly... I wasn't going to be "American with smelly feet.")
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