Journey From the Summit Read online

  They brought round a watery curry soup in a huge cooking pot. Inmates clamoured for their share, but in empty tin cans or pots they seemed to have of their own. When my turn came they looked at me as if I was crazy, and then pushed me out of the way. I had no tin, so I got no soup.

  We were permitted to wash once a day, but the rationing of water is so stringent, you never really got clean. Disease was rife, especially HIV and tuberculosis.

  There was nothing to sleep on, not even a thin mattress and the few sparse grey blankets that some of the inmates seemed to have were so lice-infested, it made the hard concrete floors seem preferable.

  The mosquitos were even more abundant than in Goa and buzzed around hungrily. The inmates seemed unaware of them, not even flinching as they were feasted upon. I pulled my hands inside my shirt and my feet up into my long trousers, which thankfully I had put on to travel in. Glad of my longer hair I pulled it over my face and tucked it into the collar of my shirt, which I buttoned up to the top. I was unbearably hot, but at least I had some protection from the buzzing bloodsuckers.

  I huddled into the corner, and somehow managed to sleep. I think the ordeal of what had happened coupled with staying up partying the night before had just drained me.

  The next thing I knew I was being poked in the ribs with a big stick. A guard was shouting at me, trying to wake me. Groggy with sleep and confused, I tried to grab the stick to stop him jabbing me. This angered him and he brought it down hard across my back. Mercifully he only did it once, but it was enough to bring me brutally to my senses and do what everyone else seemed to be doing, which was scrambling to their feet and standing against the wall, to be counted.

  I spent almost a week here Flossie! I found myself fantasizing about the Goan jails, longing for the comparative comforts they offered. I cannot begin to tell you how horrible the Bombay jail was – locked up in that dark, smelly, sweaty pit, not knowing how long I would have to endure it – the only thing that kept me going was thinking that every day there might be the last! I could feel my sanity slipping away a little more each day. By the end of the week, I was beginning to think they had forgotten me, and I was stuck there. No one came to tell me what was going on, I just had to wait, hoping and praying that someone would come for me.

  At long last, after passing monotonous hours staring into any small space I could find, it was with huge relief that I was told the police from Goa had arrived to take me back. Leaving that place, even though I still did not know what was in store for me, gave me such a sense of liberation!

  The police were apologetic. We had paid a lot of money for my bail – over 60,000 rupees – to the courts, the arresting officers and the prisons, so they knew we would be very upset by this turn of events. They told me there had been a mix-up and all I needed to do was to come back to Goa and sign some paperwork and I would be free to go. I was of course very happy to learn this and subsequently travelled willingly on the train with my mismatched companions. They couldn’t apologize enough, almost to the point of grovelling, especially when I bought them cups of chai and paid for our train journey to be upgraded so we could travel with some degree of comfort (second class travel on a diesel-polluted train with no air-conditioning and uncomfortable seats, was something I didn’t want to do for a twelve hour journey after the hell I had just been through!).

  We arrived in Goa in the small hours after travelling overnight, and Adam was waiting at the station. Before he had a chance to talk to me, I was approached by two other officers and handcuffed. I was confused! Why was I being handcuffed now after I had come willingly? I didn’t need to be ’cuffed to go and sign some papers! Maybe I would have to wait in the police station until a more sociable hour to do the paperwork, but I didn’t need ’cuffing! I began to ask questions. Adam was running to catch up as they dragged me away, and trying to tell me something. It was a con, to get me to come quietly. They had known if I knew the truth I could have taken out the two small policemen with ease and got away. There was no paperwork to sign, I was being rearrested and put back in prison here in Goa.

  Flossie, I was distraught. So much had happened and yet here I was back at square one, except possibly worse off now as I had jumping bail to add to my list of felonies. Adam was yelling that Daniel was arriving and they would get me out, but I did not know what to believe anymore.

  What could I do but trust my mate? He had come back to stand by me when he could have left to meet you and Cathy. As angry and tired and frustrated as I was, and still am, I have to trust in Adam.

  So babe, here I am again, waiting for the next court date, which hopefully, by the time you arrive in Thailand, will have brought better news and you can wait for me there. Adam assures me that Daniel will have enough money to pay them off properly this time, and I will get out. It’s gonna be expensive but my dad has agreed to wire Daniel as much as he needs to do the deal, so apparently this time it’s pretty failsafe.

  I guess when I get home I am going to be working to pay off debts for a long time.

  Flossie, I hope you still love me. I know I said that already, but it’s the only thing that is keeping me going, thinking that I am going to see you soon and we can be together. Don’t give up on me babe.

  I love you always, and will never leave your side again, if you still want me.

  All my love forever,

  Saul.

  xxxx

  Tears ran down my face as I took on board the news he was sharing with me. I knew that his words were only giving me a tiny taste of what it must have been like, and to live through that was something I couldn’t conceive of in my worst nightmares. How he had got through it I will never fully understand, but thankfully he had, and now I hoped and prayed, with everything I had, that the worst was over, and we would be together soon.

  Chapter Eight

  Finally the day arrived for Cathy and I to leave. The last call we’d had from Adam involved him telling us that if we went on to Bangkok, he was still hopeful they could meet us there. So, with hope in my heart we arrived at the airport with our bags, and our families to wave us goodbye. I put my mask back on as I played the excited girlfriend going to meet her man and have the trip of a lifetime. I was careful not to let my fears show through as I waved goodbye.

  As we flew away from England I felt my spirits lift. I could feel the space between Saul and I getting smaller and that felt good. It was Cathy’s birthday, so we decided to have a drink and celebrate. We were both feeling the excitement of adventure and, although for me especially it was tainted with fear, we got caught up in the moment, drinking, laughing and singing our way to Bangkok.

  We had a one-night stopover in a place that to us seemed to be the pits of the world. Dakar. When we arrived at the airport, the first thing that struck me was the stifling heat. It engulfed us like a suffocating fog after the air-conditioned flight. As we came through to arrivals we saw hundreds of dark faces pressed up against the glass windows outside the airport. My first thought was that these were friends and families who were waiting to meet people arriving on flights. It wasn’t until we got outside the airport that we realized they were mostly beggars, waiting to swarm upon unsuspecting travellers. Those who were not begging were vying for business.

  “You need hotel? You want rickshaw? I give you good price,” they all clamoured for our attention at once. Fortunately the airline had arranged a coach and a hotel for us so we had no need to try to make any sense of the barrage of information that was being hurled at us from every direction. All we had to do was to try to literally fight our way through the crowds of beggars pawing and beseeching us.

  We were appalled at the squalor and filth that these people lived in. To begin with we felt sorry for them, but after about five minutes of being in their country and being plagued and hounded by them from every angle our sympathy evaporated and turned to hot, frustrated irritation.

  The hotel they put us in was grim. Cockroaches feasted on the stained tablecloth that our food was served
on. Our bedroom window had no glass in its rotting frame, and the bed sheets looked as though they had never been washed. The air was stifling and thick with stagnant heat. We were never happier to get on our flight the next day to Bangkok.

  Thailand, by contrast, was enchanting. There were locals offering tuk-tuks and taxis as we arrived at the airport but in a much more subtle manner. We had been advised to head for the main thoroughfare where many cheap guesthouses could be found, so we had a sense of purpose. Although it was late at night when we arrived, the Kao Shan Road was alive with people milling about and the bright welcoming lights of open bars and restaurants. Even though we were tired and hot, and worried about what the place may hold for us, the warmth of the people and the hustle and bustle of the city felt friendly and exciting.

  We found a cheap guesthouse and settled in for the night. Mosquitos buzzed around our heads as we lay perspiring on flimsy mattresses under noisy fans, but we were as happy as our situation allowed us to be. We made a plan to try and contact Adam in the morning, letting him know we had arrived and trying to find out if there was any more news of Saul’s release.

  Adam was staying in a guesthouse in Goa with a phone knowing that we would be trying to contact him. So when we called the next day, Cathy excitedly telling him we had arrived, I stood by her waiting with bated breath for news of Saul. His case had been back to court, as he had said in his letter. I closed my eyes and crossed my fingers, chanting, “Please, please, please,” in my head. He said Daniel had money; surely they had enough to buy his way out? But the news was the same… wait. They were still trying; they had more people to see, more bribes to offer. We had no choice but to wait some more.

  Well, what else could we do? At least we were not waiting at home; we were nearer to them, and in a place that needed exploring. We would make the most of being here and have a look around the city. We couldn’t go far, because we still hoped they could be here any day, but we would relax into the Thai city as much as we could.

  Our first attempt at visiting a temple failed miserably. We were dressed in shorts and vests, trying to stay cool in the overwhelming heat and humidity. When we arrived at the doors of the Wat Pho Temple – the temple of the reclining Buddha – they very politely told us we could not come in.

  “You no dress polite,” they said with sweet smiles as they indicated our attire.

  We went away and returned with longer sleeves and long skirts.

  They allowed us to enter the temple and it was well worth making the effort for! From the outside, we were over-awed by its magnificence. It was set in beautifully maintained gardens and surrounded by little ornate chapels and exquisitely intricate ‘chedis’, which are graceful, dome-shaped monuments embellished with colourful ceramic tiles. The northern section, which housed the reclining Buddha, was designed with dainty pointed rooftops and raised on a marble platform, and covered in tiny pieces of coloured mosaic glass, then gilded in gold.

  Inside the cool shrine lay the stunning gold leaf reclining Buddha. He was enormous, at around 45m in length and 15m in height. His feet alone were 3m tall, and the soles were inlaid with mother-of-pearl in intricate designs of flowers, dancers, elephants and tigers. We were simply spellbound at his sheer size and splendour. Little bronze coloured bowls were arranged for people to donate coins, which in turn would grant them good fortune (and help the monks maintain the temple in all its splendid glory). I placed a few baht into a dish and prayed to the reclining Buddha to help Saul. We felt truly blessed to have been able to experience such a divine temple.

  In the evening Bangkok came alive with a culture that is, by contrast, far from divine – the sex industry. The streets were lined with neon-lit bars and restaurants. Lady-boys strutted up and down the road, some of them so beautiful it would take a sharp eye to notice their true gender. Leaflets were thrust at us from every direction with verbal invitations such as, “You want to see live ping pong show?” A sense of morbid fascination and a need to immerse ourselves in the culture from both angles compelled us to go into one of the seemingly less seedy bars. It was here that we were struck by how these poor girls, some as young as twelve or thirteen, were forced, by poverty or family trade to sell themselves to the punters and make their poor little bodies do things that no self-respecting girl should ever have to think about. What was worse is that it is the Western men who travel to this part of the world who fed this culture, as they flocked here en masse to be ‘entertained’ by this industry. We had one drink and left, after having seen more than enough of this aspect of Thai culture.

  Apart from visiting the temples and sex shows, we feasted on the authentic Thai cuisine that all the bars and restaurants offered. The food was very oriental everywhere, but what distinguished it from the Chinese food our palettes were more familiar with was its absence of gloopy sauce and the additives that seem to be typical in Chinese menus. It tasted fresh, crisp and naturally fragrant.

  We shopped, had a Thai massage and made friends with locals and travellers alike. A week went by and still there was no news. We called Adam again. There was no change and no chance of imminent release. His case would go back to court in another two weeks; they were not coming to Thailand. It was time for the mountain to go to Mohammed.

  We booked flights to Bombay and left our new friends and the magic of Thailand behind us. Cathy was ecstatic; Adam would be waiting for her at the airport. All the way to Bombay I harboured a tiny flame of hope that somehow Saul may be there too, knowing in my heart just how unlikely that would be.

  Chapter Nine

  When we arrived, we could hardly see Adam. A huge bouquet of flowers that he’d bought for Cathy concealed him. She took the flowers and fell into his arms all tears and smiles while I hovered behind her, not quite knowing what to do with myself.

  Then, I looked past Adam. There, behind him, was a broad handsome man with a face that so resembled Saul’s it brought a lump to my throat. Daniel, Saul’s older brother grasped my hand and grinned at me in a warm friendly welcome. His hair was shorter, darker and thicker than Saul’s and his features somehow bolder and more rugged, but otherwise the similarity took me aback. I was speechless. I so wanted him to be Saul, but at the same time I was relieved he was there at all. At least I wasn’t alone with Cathy and Adam fawning all over one another. I had someone to talk to. Adam had booked a nice hotel for him and Cathy, so they disappeared in a cloud of togetherness to their love nest, leaving Daniel and I to go to a cheap guesthouse that he had found for us.

  We came out of the airport into the hot, dusty city and felt immediately overwhelmed by the sights and sounds. Car horns beeped, bicycle bells clanged and people were shouting everywhere. Cows and chickens wandered in the road being narrowly dodged by rickshaws and taxis. Once again I was struck by the extreme squalor these people lived in. There were little shacks made from cardboard and corrugated plastic, lining the sides of the dusty roads strewn with rotting fruit. There was even what resembled bookcases, with people lying on each shelf as their beds; their homes. People were defecating by the roadside where others fed their newborn infants. Never had I witnessed such hardship and destitution. My life was another world, another planet away from this. I felt like an alien witnessing an inconceivable life form, not being able to really process what my eyes beheld. Although people approached us for money, they were not as scavenger-like as they had been in Dakar. I didn’t feel so intimidated and, although I felt revulsion, my heart went out to them. Daniel grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the big brown eyes that implored me, warning me that if I gave to one I would be hunted down like an unwitting deer by the rest as soon as they detected a soft touch.

  We jumped in a cab that took us to our humble abode for the night. It was a single story building with small rooms opening onto a long thin veranda. The room itself had narrow twin beds separated by a small locker. It was basic but fairly clean.

  That night we sat up drinking chai tea and talking about Saul. Daniel was so worried for him.
He had left his job and his life back in America to try and help Saul here.

  “I think Saul’s into hard drugs,” Daniel confessed worriedly.

  “What? No, that’s crazy! Why ever would you think that?” I said.

  He told me how he had found syringes in Saul’s bag, and was worried it was because he was taking harder drugs. I laughed, perhaps unkindly at Daniel’s troubled expression.

  “Oh Daniel!” I said relieved to discover the reason for his fears.

  “Before they left, when they were having their vaccinations in England, the nurse who was administering them told them if they needed any medication by injection it was safer to carry your own needle, as they didn’t use new ones here, and the risk of AIDS was high. Look,” I said reaching into my own bag, “I’ve got some too!”

  He laughed with me, shedding at least some of his worry, and we took the first of many steps towards building a friendship that would help us through perhaps the most trying time in both our lives.

  The following morning we found Adam and Cathy taking a late, leisurely breakfast in their comparatively lavish hotel dining room. We sat with them drinking tea whilst we waited for them to finish so we could make our way to the airport.

  As we stepped outside into the mounting heat of the day, we were once again taken aback by the cultural differences between India and the UK. Every time you looked around you, you were surprised, appalled, disgusted, or amused by another unfamiliar sight, sound or smell. One such sight, which at first repulsed us, but we soon became accustomed to seeing, was Indian men holding hands. It seemed that, irrespective of age or class, everywhere you looked you would see another male couple with their fingers entwined. At first we thought maybe homosexuality was just rife in this country, but we soon came to realize that actually these men were heterosexual, and that it was a totally acceptable social behaviour. Conversely, it was not acceptable for a man and woman to show affection between each other, even if they were married. Perhaps this was why the men sought affection from their own sex, as it was frowned upon to be affectionate with their female partners.