At eleven in the evening in Jijiga Ethiopia, two men escorted me into the chief's office at their police station and sat me down. There were five of them in the room – the one at the desk, obviously the chief, was middle aged, obvioulsy hardened, and never ever made eye contact with me.

I was grilled about what I was doing here, where I was going, how I got here, and many other useless questions. I remember little of what they said. The clincher was that I didn't have my passport on me – it was at immigration, I said, and I had this temporary visitor's card. Call the guy at immigration, and I told them the number. Conveniently, the number was not working. Of course it wasn't. I was acting honestly, but honestly – these police were looking for something, even if it didn't exist.

I was transferred into another room, with a single bare light bulb. Two men translated for me, as another took notes. "Don't worry!" they said, so I worried little. I thought that because of the war, they were simply keeping track of the foreigners in their town. The man who was taking notes finished off his notes and asked me to sign it. I did. Because, essentially, I had little choice.

A few minutes later I was asked to get back in their vehicle – oh good, I thought, they're taking me back to my hotel. The Land Rover drove for about fifty feet, and then reached a gate in the pitch black. An armed soldier got out, and I was told to follow him. For a fraction of a second I thought they were going to take me behind a building and shoot me – no one would care.

The soldier opened up a metal door, and we stepped into a courtyard that was mostly mud, and surrounded by corrugated tin. He motioned to me to follow him. He opened up a room – a large room, with about a dozen men in it – all Somali. I walked in with him. The Somalis stared at me, under low artifical light. This was the only time in the entire trip that I had felt fear.

The soldier, satisfied that I was in, then walked out. I quickly put my hand in the door, and gave him my best facial expression, trying to communicate "What is going on here?" to him. He gave me the hand signal – "wait" – so I sat and waited. If you are going to lock me up, do you really think it's smart to lock me up in the communal room with the Somalis? The Somalis weren't on top of me right away, and were almost welcoming. I got nervous when one of them made the universal expression for "money" with his hands – either he wanted some, or I should give some to the police to let me out.

A few minutes later the soldier came back and opened the door, and motioned for me to leave – good, he had a second thought. Perhaps putting the white guy in with the Somalis wasn't such a good idea. I was quite worried about what would happen when the lights went out.

He took me along the side of the building again – at one barred window, I heard english. "You speak english!" I exclaimed in relief. "What is going on here?"

The man spoke in Amharic to the soldier. "He says – you are prisoner! And you must stay here for now."
I was amazed, and not very amused. "What am I prisoner for?"
"He says – you must stay for now."

Incredible. My biggest worry, as odd as it may seem, is how this is going to blow my schedule. I really don't have time to spend in jail. The soldier motioned me to follow him – I was taken to another communal room. This one was quieter, and dark. One man had a candle on. The soldier left, then came back with a foamy mattress for me, and a blanket. I wasn't going anywhere tonight.

The theories were racing through my head – obviously I haven't been convicted of anything if they've given me a comfy mattress. Perhaps they just want to keep track of me since I don't have my passport on me, and make sure I don't disappear into the night somewhere. The other theory is that all of my walking downtown advertised me as the only foreigner who wasn't with an aid group, and an easy target for bribes. It is my goal tomorrow to make sure that this is the only night I spend in this jail.

But how am I supposed to sleep in this place. I'm far too worried, and nervous, to get any sleep. The fear was only there for a brief moment – but fear is so rare in me that it's important to take note of. I've been put in jail for my first night back in Ethiopia. I had better make my flight tomorrow back to Addis Ababa from here.....



JAIL - The Morning

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