HIBAPRESS – Yassin Al-Damiri
As the months passed, I began to notice the details of dealing with the guards and daily laws more deeply. It wasn't easy, as every movement and every step was monitored, and every word could carry a price that I didn't know when it would appear.
The guards are not personal enemies in the direct sense, but the power was clear, and each of us knows his place within this system. This small world has become a difficult school, teaching you caution, patience, and the art of reading situations before you move, and the art of managing yourself between invisible constraints.
At first, any encounter with the guards caused me great anxiety. Even the simplest questions about food, hygiene, or the daily check-up caused me an indescribable inner tension. Every step carried the possibility of reprimand, every word was likely to turn into a bigger problem.
I learned quickly within the institution to speak in a low voice, to move calmly, and to abide by the laws no matter how small they seemed, because any disregard or haste could multiply the consequences.
Some guards were very strict, not forgiving any violation, and sometimes their looks alone were enough to sow fear in the soul. Others were trying to be friendly, but they were under the surveillance of the system, so absolute kindness could not be relied upon.
I learned to read the tone, to notice small movements, and how any disregard or defiance could turn into a big problem. With time, I knew when to speak and when to be silent, and how to protect myself without losing my dignity, and how every small action could make a big difference in my daily life.
There were fixed appointments for everything, food at specific hours, the periodic check-up of the cell, exercise, and sleep. Any delay or mistake caused reprimand or a simple punishment, but in the world of prison, everything leaves its psychological mark, even simple things like arranging the bed or putting the blanket properly became important because they were part of your daily life.
Every day was a lesson in self-control and discipline. I learned to manage my energy, my feelings, and plan all my movements with great caution, and to be patient even with the smallest details that might seem unimportant to those outside.
In the beginning, talking to others was very limited. I watched, listened, and tried to understand every movement or word. I noticed that some men spoke in very low voices, warning against any action that might attract the attention of the guards. Some of them sometimes laughed softly, and some of them talked to themselves quietly, as if this was their way of dealing with constant psychological pressure.
I was learning from every action, understanding how they deal with the system, and how each one balances between preserving himself and any risk that might lead to quarrels or penalties.
With time, I began to understand that dealing with the guards is not only a matter of complying with the laws, but a complete art that requires careful reading. I learned that a small smile or a calm greeting can give you moments of safety, and that any defiance or public anger can double your suffering.
I began to notice the subtle differences between the guards, who deliberately showed strictness, and who could sometimes ease the punishment. Every day became a new test of psychological intelligence, patience, and control of emotions.
There were moments when it was difficult to control anger or frustration. Sometimes I saw men suffering from injustice or facing punishments for no apparent reason, and I felt completely helpless, but over time I learned to stay away from any disagreement that does not benefit, to choose my battles carefully, and to set limits for myself before anyone imposes them on me. Every experience here was a lesson in the art of survival within this small world.
In the cell, relationships with others became smarter and more complex. I shared with some men the observations about the guards and the laws, we set small strategies to avoid quarrels, and we learn from each other's mistakes.
I began to understand that friendships here are not like those outside, but they are a necessary support network for survival. Each of us knows that survival depends on attention, observation, and sometimes cooperation. I learned to balance between trust and caution, between helping and retreating, and to build a relationship based on mutual respect and common interests within the cell.
With each week, I felt that I was beginning to understand life inside the prison better. Silence was no longer as deadly as it was in the early days, and loneliness no longer weighed on my soul to the same extent. I found for myself a small space for psychological freedom despite the constraints, I practice thinking, I keep my private memories, and I learn how to live with the pain and nostalgia in a way that makes me able to continue.
I also noticed that longing for the family never disappears, but accompanies you at every moment, even amidst these new relationships. The pictures of my daughters and their mother accompanied me, pushing me to be patient, and teaching me how to turn pain into the ability to endure. I was learning how to balance between two worlds, the world I lost and the new world I live behind bars.
As the months passed, I became more able to adapt to the laws of daily life inside the prison. I understood how a person can find for himself small spaces of hope, how to manage negative feelings, and how to maintain his humanity despite all the constraints. I learned that every day has value, and that every experience, no matter how small or painful, can teach you something important about yourself and about life.
-To be continued-
