Outcast
Facebook. The wonder of the internet that connected people to the world. Hundreds of countries, millions of people log into this virtual gathering every day.
I have a story that starts with this very wonder. I am Rehab and this is the story of my sister, Rehna.
Where shall I begin? Let’s start with the hacking. Rehna, like everyone, has an account on Facebook. She is a very gentle soul, wouldn't hurt a fly. Her account was once hacked and the hacker posted something against the government. Needless to say, she was imprisoned for 11 days. She came back to us tortured both physically and mentally. This is her story in prison.
14 women in a cell. That is the condition here. Cramped up. No room to stretch. The cells are all full. Some protesters, but mostly innocents. Funny, I felt like one of the girls in the prison scene from the movie Schindler’s list.
The girls here are mostly young and the prison guardsmen. The expected results happened here- sex. Most of these girls had no way out, families were lost, so none to take them out. They had to survive.
The guards were cruel and harsh. We would get beaten for nothing sometimes. I was mostly spared but had my fair share.
The lunch ceremonies were not for the faint of heart. The first day I walked in for lunch, I was given a bowl of what looked like soup. No salt, no pepper. I overheard a lady ask a guard for some salt so that she could at least gulp it down.
“You want salt, then fuck me!” said the prison guard. The lady almost slapped him but she was a helpless woman. Two other guards came in and beat the living daylight out of her and took her into a room. We could hear her screams from inside.
All was silent for a few seconds and it was back to the way it was. I didn’t realize it was a common scene in this facility. That night the ladies their told me stories of how they would give themselves in for a decent meal. They would be raped for food sometimes even salt or sugar or tissue papers.
The women had no way to survive other than to whore themselves.
Each night the guards would come in for their usual round and take a couple of girls with them for the night. Sex. The girls here became their playthings.
The showers were done in groups. We could use the toilets and there was always guards outside. The guards didn't want to see us use the toilets, so we were left alone there.
I heard a girl crying inside one of the stalls, “Please God, just let me out of here. Please, God. Please.”
One day, a prison guard came into my cell calling my name. I was terrified. I am going to be raped. I shouldn't resist. I was taken to a room and the guard let. Fear engulfed me. Should I panic? The door to the room opened and I saw a soldier. My heart raced. He stepped in with a lady. My mother.
I rushed across the room and hugged her. I cried, so did she.
She took me with her. She had all the papers ready but wasn’t allowed to meet me until I was to be released. We left the prison and came back home.
I listened to Rehna, say this story with tears. Every one of us cried that night. The thought of leaving the country got strong and we are leaving for Jordan today.
As I sit on this bus, leaving to Jordan, my mind still wonders in that prison. My heart mourns for all those girls who cannot get out. God help them. May Allah give them the strength to go through.
I have a story that starts with this very wonder. I am Rehab and this is the story of my sister, Rehna.
Where shall I begin? Let’s start with the hacking. Rehna, like everyone, has an account on Facebook. She is a very gentle soul, wouldn't hurt a fly. Her account was once hacked and the hacker posted something against the government. Needless to say, she was imprisoned for 11 days. She came back to us tortured both physically and mentally. This is her story in prison.
14 women in a cell. That is the condition here. Cramped up. No room to stretch. The cells are all full. Some protesters, but mostly innocents. Funny, I felt like one of the girls in the prison scene from the movie Schindler’s list.
The girls here are mostly young and the prison guardsmen. The expected results happened here- sex. Most of these girls had no way out, families were lost, so none to take them out. They had to survive.
The guards were cruel and harsh. We would get beaten for nothing sometimes. I was mostly spared but had my fair share.
The lunch ceremonies were not for the faint of heart. The first day I walked in for lunch, I was given a bowl of what looked like soup. No salt, no pepper. I overheard a lady ask a guard for some salt so that she could at least gulp it down.
“You want salt, then fuck me!” said the prison guard. The lady almost slapped him but she was a helpless woman. Two other guards came in and beat the living daylight out of her and took her into a room. We could hear her screams from inside.
All was silent for a few seconds and it was back to the way it was. I didn’t realize it was a common scene in this facility. That night the ladies their told me stories of how they would give themselves in for a decent meal. They would be raped for food sometimes even salt or sugar or tissue papers.
The women had no way to survive other than to whore themselves.
Each night the guards would come in for their usual round and take a couple of girls with them for the night. Sex. The girls here became their playthings.
The showers were done in groups. We could use the toilets and there was always guards outside. The guards didn't want to see us use the toilets, so we were left alone there.
I heard a girl crying inside one of the stalls, “Please God, just let me out of here. Please, God. Please.”
One day, a prison guard came into my cell calling my name. I was terrified. I am going to be raped. I shouldn't resist. I was taken to a room and the guard let. Fear engulfed me. Should I panic? The door to the room opened and I saw a soldier. My heart raced. He stepped in with a lady. My mother.
I rushed across the room and hugged her. I cried, so did she.
She took me with her. She had all the papers ready but wasn’t allowed to meet me until I was to be released. We left the prison and came back home.
I listened to Rehna, say this story with tears. Every one of us cried that night. The thought of leaving the country got strong and we are leaving for Jordan today.
As I sit on this bus, leaving to Jordan, my mind still wonders in that prison. My heart mourns for all those girls who cannot get out. God help them. May Allah give them the strength to go through.
great..!!!
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