Chapter Twelve
‘Baksheesh’ was not only used for people going to visit prisoners. In fact, in India you could buy almost anything if you had money. Not only was their society founded on corruption, but wages were so low that everyone was looking for ways to supplement their meagre earnings. A few extra rupees here and there could get you served quicker in a shop, fix police tickets or get you the freshest pick of fruit at the market. The term ‘baksheesh’ means present or gift. This widely used custom proved very useful when they finally decided to move Saul from the old asylum in Panjim to a prison in Mapusa. Not only was it much nearer for me to travel to, but also the guards here used the custom very openly, and were quite friendly about it too. Rather than an irritating form of extortion, I began to see it more as a way to get what I wanted, and learned to use it to my advantage. I was allowed to see him every day, and although taking in food from outside was prohibited, for a few rupees the guards would briefly check what I was giving him and then wave me in, enabling me to take him omelettes, pizzas, mango lassies, and fresh fruit. Some of them were even friendly, and would call me by name when they saw me. For a little extra they even left us alone for brief interludes, which we coveted like stolen treasures, where we could hold each other and kiss, and be almost like normal lovers, pretending that nothing else but us existed. Mapusa prison was much more relaxed than Panjim had been. He was allowed longer periods of time walking in the courtyard for exercise and the cells were less crowded too.
However, his stay there was short-lived. All too soon they decided he must move to another prison across the river from Panjim. Reis Margos was an old Portuguese fort built on a hillside. It overlooked the Mandovi River, and was paradoxically a picturesque ancient building, steeped in history and antiquity. Redbrick cylindrical turrets made lookout points over the water and the huge wooden doors with cast iron fittings had a Wizard-of-Oz style peep door that the jailers would talk to visitors through before deciding whether to let them in.
For us, it was ominous and ugly. It was much further away, and we had to cross the water by boat to get there. Visits were only twice a week, and heavily guarded by stern unsmiling jailers. The visiting hours here were strict, and limited. The worst thing was that, like Panjim, they would on a whim decide not to let you in. It seemed that here they used the authority they had over prisoners and visitors alike, as a power game. They seemed to get a kick out of it; the more frustrated we became the more obstinate they became. Although we were by now quite used to this type of irritating bureaucracy, having dealt with it almost everywhere we went, this was by far the worst. We travelled for over an hour to get there, and waited outside in the sweltering sun, for sometimes two or three hours, being told we couldn’t come in because the jailer was at lunch. Sometimes he wouldn’t come back at all, and we would be sent away. Here, even waving rupee notes at them didn’t change their minds or manners. I knew on those days that Saul was waiting on the other side of the old fort for me to come in, and that he would be beside himself with madness to learn that we had been sent away. For me it was purgatory; for Saul it was hell.
One such day, we had been waiting outside the fort in the sweltering sun for almost two hours. Every time we approached the door to ask if we could come and visit, they would open the little flap and shout, “jailer at lunch,” and close it again. Bearing in mind it was a visiting day, and visiting hours were between 2 – 4pm, and we had been there since before 2pm. It was now almost 4pm. Daniel, normally a calm controlled guy, had had enough. He stormed up to the door and banged with both fists, loudly.
The guard opened the window.
“If you don’t let us in, now, I am gonna kick this fucking door down!” he yelled in the guard’s face. I knew he was angry, but I was surprised by his outburst. Part of me wanted to stand next to him and vent my own pent up frustration, but the other part of me was worried that he could be screwing things up for any future visits.
“You don’t shout at us,” the guard replied. “I tell you before, jailer at lunch, you have to wait.”
“Visiting hours are almost over, how long is his fucking lunch!” said Daniel, almost spitting feathers at the guard.
“He come soon. You wait.” the guard replied in his nonchalant tone.
Daniel began to kick the door, yelling obscenities.
The guard, to our satisfaction, looked worried at last.
Shutting the flap, he disappeared from view, leaving Daniel to vent his anger on the closed door.
Suddenly he opened it again, “You,” he said pointing at me, “can come in for five minutes. You stay outside,” he said to Daniel.
Daniel turned on his heel and stormed down the hill towards the river angrily. The guards opened the door and let me in.
Saul was waiting on the other side. I went to him and sat down next to him still reeling from Daniel’s eruption.
“Flossie! What happened?” said Saul looking worried.
Before I had a chance to answer, the two guards came over to where we sat.
“You tell your brother, he not shout at us. He frightens us!” they exclaimed. This was the funniest thing I’d heard in a long time! Here were two prison guards, both armed, asking a prisoner to keep his brother under control because they were scared! The irony of it was absurdly comical.
“He is big man,” they said, trying to explain. “If he shouts at us again, we cannot let him come to see you.”
As they walked away from us, we tried very hard to conceal our giggling, but it was so funny we couldn’t contain ourselves.
“Not funny!” the guards said crossly turning to look at us.
“Sorry,” said Saul through his laughter, trying his best to keep a straight face. “I will have a word with him.”
True to their word I was told to leave then, I had barely had the promised five minutes, but I don’t think us laughing had helped.
When I got out, I found Daniel brooding by the river, waiting for me. I told him what had happened and laughter erupted from him, putting out the fire of his anger instantly. We laughed all the way home.
We lived one day at a time, and the case dragged on and on. Every two weeks he would be taken to court and every time we would hope that they would acquit the case, but it was postponed. They said they had witnesses they were waiting for, evidence to confirm the case.
When I attended court with Saul I was always mindful to pretend I was not his girlfriend. I think they thought I was maybe a close friend, or a family member. I was able to show him affection, but had to be careful how I conducted myself, especially if the arresting officer was present which he usually was.
One of the highlights of going to court with him was that we had to walk there. Often the arresting officer would meet us there, meaning I could walk in the sunshine with Saul. I know it sounds like a small mercy, especially when accompanied by a guard to whom Saul was handcuffed, but I could walk on the other side of him and imagine to myself that we were free to be together.
Saul’s case was once again coming up for a court hearing. It was time to take action. We found out through local contacts that there would be a new judge, and not only that, we also found out where he lived. It was my turn now to show that I was here to help in any way I could. It was agreed that I would go and talk to the judge, and try to get him to be lenient.
I put on my best outfit, and went round to visit the judge at his home. As I stood on the front porch about to knock on the door it occurred to me that there was no way I would even contemplate such an action in my own society. Either I was becoming culturally influenced by the ways of this country or desperation was pushing me to the very edges of my personality.
When the door was opened, a large man with a sullen face stood there looked down at me unsmiling. Although I felt nervous, I smiled as sweetly as I could and told him that if he had a few minutes he could kindly give me, I had come to talk to him about Saul, whose case he would be judging. I took a little heart from the fact that he d
idn’t close the door, but instead raised his eyebrows in expectation.
I stood on that porch and proceeded to give a full and glowing character reference of my Saul, and how they had him all wrong. I pleaded with and begged him to give Saul a chance. He listened, and then closed the door, and my cries for mercy were ignored.
The police had one up on us. The witnesses they had in place were paid to be present before the arrest even takes place. They actually bring the witnesses to the scene of a crime with them. These are called Punchnama witnesses. Punchnama, literally translated, means ‘post-mortem’, or after the event has taken place. They are generally local people who work in government services, who are paid extra to go out on police raids and be ‘witnesses’. They will say whatever they are told to say. Our only chance was to fight fire with fire. We needed to find out who these witnesses were and offer them a great deal more money not to turn up to court. This, to me, sounded impossible! Surely these people revered their own law system enough to be bound by its ways, and however unethical the contract they had made, they must fear the consequences of breaking it? And how on earth could we begin to discover their whereabouts?
Adam had made good local contacts in the relatively short time this had been going on. Two local, albeit a little underhanded, businessmen who relied upon the Western travelling trade to make their money, were on our side. Joe and Antony made their income from people like us, by providing a service to the Westerners. For a small fee they would help you deal with the daunting and frustrating systems that this country seemed to operate under. Simple things like booking a taxi, finding a house to rent or a good lawyer to represent you, could be logistical nightmares if you didn’t know where to go or who to talk to. These two chaps knew all the right people, the ones who wouldn’t rip you off, or at least they wouldn’t if you had come to enlist their services through these two gentlemen. It was in Joe and Antony’s best interests to work with us. They didn’t want an unnecessary legal spectacle, which may dampen their business; neither did we. They made good money from us, and in return they made life a whole lot easier for us. They had inside information on just about everything; what they didn’t know wasn’t worth knowing.
The punchnamas’ names were published prior to court appearances for the cross-examination and made available to our lawyer. Our two ‘diamonds in the rough’ knew how to find them. So, with Adam and Daniel, Joe and Antony paid both witnesses a visit, and offered them a reasonable amount of money to fail to attend the hearing.
So we had put a spanner in the works. This meant that the court case would be adjourned, and the witnesses recalled. With enough money the witnesses could be bought off completely, and would not attend court at all. However, this meant the court kept adjourning and re-scheduling the case every fortnight, and Saul went from prison to court and back again, time and time again. Now we had to play the waiting game, and hope the prosecution didn’t dig up other evidence or produce another ‘witness’.
The weeks went by slowly. Saul became so low-spirited and seemingly unaware of what was happening. He was despondent, and began making irrational plans that worried us.
“I’m going to get out of here,” he said to me one day, with an almost manic look in his troubled eyes.
“Yes Saul, you are definitely – that’s exactly what we are spending every minute working towards.”
“No,” he barked at me uncharacteristically, “it’s not working, I have to get out, and I have a way.” He was talking to me, and yet it felt as if he could be talking to anyone. Expressionlessness had come over him, like a thick blanket of desperation, making it hard to understand what he was really saying.
“What do you mean Saul?” I asked gently. “Tell me, and maybe I can help.”
Now he looked at me as if only just realizing it was me he was talking to, and an excitement lit his expression, but one born of an irrational obsession that scared me. “I’m not eating,” he said quietly, holding my hands. “I will get sick from lack of food, and they will have to take to me to hospital. And then I’ll break out!” he said this as though I might think his plan was excellent.
My heart contracted painfully, seeing him so desperate, and fixated on something that could only have devastating consequences.
I realized that he had probably spent hours and hours consumed by his desperation to get out, enveloped in loneliness and frustration. I had to tread carefully and not seem to be belittling what to him had been all consuming.
“Saul,” I began gently. “If it works and they move you to a hospital, do you think you would be strong enough to break out? You would be very weak after not eating for so long,” I said, the very thought of this tearing me apart.
“I am strong Flossie. I would find enough strength to get me out and then Adam and Daniel could be waiting with a taxi to get me out of Goa. From there we could drive over the border into Nepal and then I’d be free.”
“ Saul, what if they got caught, or if you got caught trying to get out? You’ve already been rearrested once, and think back to how horrible that was! It’s a huge risk. I know the waiting is killing you, but it will work, we are finding ways to make it work, I promise,” I said, now desperate to convince him to give up this crazy plan.
I talked to him about the witnesses, who we had already told him about, but I wanted to reiterate it to him, to encourage him to see sense.
He stared at me blankly, as if my words were nothing more than platitudes, designed to shut him up.
“Listen,” I said decisively, “let’s at least try this – it’s much less risky, and if it doesn’t work then we will talk about other plans, but please don’t give up on us Saul! I promise we will come through for you. We wont let you stay here, you are coming out, and soon.”
I wasn’t sure how much of what I said went in. He seemed so obsessed with his game-plan, and so convinced that that was the way forward – how could ten minutes of talking to him compete with endless hours of plotting and scheming in a troubled lonely mind? My heart was breaking. I wanted him out so badly it was literally tearing me apart. I knew that if this went on too much longer he would be in danger of totally losing his mind.
Chapter Thirteen
Adam’s visa had expired, and the time had come for him and Cathy to leave India. He had already extended it once, and was running out of money fast. Adam was torn in two: he didn’t want to walk away from Saul, but knew he had no choice. He himself had become ill from the stress and had lost almost a stone in weight. Daniel assured him it was okay, and that he would get Saul out.
His last deed for Saul was to go and talk to him, and try to convince him to stay strong and exercise what little patience he could find. I think, at this point, Adam was probably the only one who could make Saul see sense. He had been through it with him from day one, and knew the system with all its loopholes better than any of us. When he returned after saying goodbye to Saul, he at least felt as though he had managed to get through to him – a significant parting gesture.
I felt so sad for Adam. I don’t think he ever envisaged leaving his friend behind like this. They had embarked on this trip of a lifetime together, setting off on their big adventure. They had planned to travel to Thailand, Bali and Australia. Now he had to leave his friend behind and travel on without him. He had done so much for Saul and given so much of himself to help him. He looked physically drained. In truth, he needed to get away now for his own sanity, and to fulfil his own plans too, with Cathy.
Although my friendship with Cathy had taken a huge hit, I felt a pang of remorse at seeing her leave. It seemed poignant somehow. She had been through so much with me, from the very beginning, and now she was moving on without me.
“Look after Holmes,” she whispered tearfully. I knew she was conveying many unspoken words with this parting reference. I threw my arms around her and promised her I would.
“Write to us when you get to Oz,” I smiled.
After five long months Adam and Cathy finally left G
oa. I felt sick knowing how hard Saul would take this, and also because I knew my own visa only had a few more weeks. I already had barely any money and was living on next to nothing in order to stay.
Many westerners were leaving Goa. The partygoers were following their quest to find more beach raves as the nightlife dwindled here, marking the beginning of the end of the season. Daniel and I kept busy, visiting Saul, going to court, and generally living a fairly stressful existence, but on the occasions when we couldn’t get in to see Saul or didn’t have to go to court, we relaxed, knowing that we both needed to in order to keep our strength and spirits up.
One such day, when we could not get in to see Saul, I asked Daniel if he would come with me to try and find my father’s family house. I had an address and a vague set of directions that Dad had faxed through to me. The house was in a little village called Assagao, a few miles to the west of Mapusa. We set off early to give ourselves time to find it, Daniel guiding the bike along the dusty road out of Mapusa.
The village of Assagao dates back to the peak of the Portuguese era, with some of the houses being over 300 years old. The houses are built on the lower part of two ridges, where rice is cultivated in a valley that runs in between. We followed Dad’s directions until we arrived at what we thought could be the right house, a small white bungalow with its garden raised higher than the road, and kept neatly behind a picket fence. Tentatively we knocked at the door and before long a man of slight build and friendly manner answered. We told him we were looking for a house that had belonged to Valentino and Lucinda Carreira. He said he remembered them! I told him they were my grandparents and he seemed very excited to meet me, telling me he remembered my father as a child. Pulling his own door shut he offered to walk with us and take us to the house we were looking for. He showed us which house it was and said he was very glad he had met me.
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