VUS.ISM: JAIL [Part 3}

There's somethings that are unnerving about watching a grown man making cow sounds. At the top is the fact that, afterwards, he acts like nothing happened. But, I am not about to judge a man while he's behind bars. Especially when I'm sharing a cell with him. I couldn't help but think that that was probably his survival tactic. Maybe dude was just a terrified as I was and he might have figured that nobody would want beef with mad cow disease. I also couldn't judge because my survival strategy - in hindsight - wasn't all that…logical.

 It was my first night in a packed cell after being arrested for "public drinking". They'd told me i'd be in there for three days. I repeat, f* the popo. Anyway, upon entering the cell I had somehow gravitated next to a toilet half full of human excrement. Disgusting, I know, but the reason for this was simple. If some four, five young guns wanted to cock on me, shit would fly. Crouching Tiger Flying Feaces. I'd be scooping that poop out of the toilet like water out of a sinking boat and launching it like Jordan on that 3 point shit. I know, I know. But the thought of finding penis amongst buttocks can make any man do - or think - strangely.

Most of the 23inmates were still passed out drunk. I figured the cell was designated for alcohol offenders. After weighing my options between lying on the ground with a grimy blanket sleeping on top of me and sitting on a cold concrete floor, I had decided that I would stand for three days. Allow me. Once in a while the gatekeeper would crank open the three doors that lead into our cell, bringing fresh offenders. Each time he would quip that I'd not gone to sleep. "Rasta, you are still standing?". At times I'd want accept his assumption of my dreaded faith. "Rasta gon stand laak layaan. I and I legs iron dem", I'd think to myself. 

Amongst those who had drunk themselves into alcoholic oblivion, there this big dude like a pitch black Bud Spencer. This guy was snoring something ferocious and unfortunate. Personally, I wasn't too bothered though. I'd been staring at this scribbling on the wall. "MAVUSANA WAS HERE 2008", it read, crudely. Irony. Out of no where, Bud Spencer let out a fart so loud and violent that it sounded like his butt chicks were doing a slow clap. Now, we had already been basking in the murderous scent of Aau De Toilet for a while now, so the smell of his flatulence was of no consequence. It was this principle of the matter. You can't be lying there looking like a human omnibus and just disrespect us thusly. So I was all for what happened next. One dude woke up. Walked over to Spens and face-palmed him with the speed and thrust that was deserving. "Uyaz'rasela msunwakho!" I don't know how befok you'd have to be from alcohol to not be woken up by heavy handed klaps to the face but Bud Spencer had figured it out. He just grunted and rolled over.

The gatekeeper came again. "Rasta, you are still standing?". "Like the statue of liberty, mate", I said, in my heart. This guy came in from behind him and straight up waltzed into the cell, crapping us out during. "Yah, la sokodisa, byanong le tshwerwe. Now you are just a bunch of criminals". The liver on this dude. Guy walked in like he'd walked into his lounge in time for Generations. He came in. Skipped and hopped over the sleeping bodies and went straight to a corner like it was his spot. Gatekeeper closed the door. This guy whips out his phone and calls his boys to tell his mom to come bail him out. I'm not sure what is supposed to shock one when one is incarcerated.

Hours have passed now. My legs feel numb and the pain in my back is just ming and merciless. By now I'm tired of being scared. I'm starving too. Next to the toilet there's this semi open shower. Someone has crapped in there too. Then it finally dawned on me. There's a shower in this cell. A SHOWER! Just big enough for one person. Or two. Or three. Or 26. I try to figure out how the poop ended up in the shower. Father God. I could not help wonder what sane man would just nje decide to go freshen up in that shower. Wash with what? Come out wrapped in that creature of a blanket? I proceeded towards the door. Swiftly. My mind was Schumacher. The thoughts I had were graphic and had me bugging. I didn't notice the door open. The gatekeeper came in. "Rasta.." I was ready to answer him again. Then he said "...come, you are free". I just heard my name being called. Thus ending my 8 hour stint in a holding cell. I don't think I can edequately describe there relief that comes with those words. It is something akin to a woman coming out of the toilet with a pregnancy test that only has one line.

Part 1

Part 2

Footnote; with that fam, this is my last post for 2012. A humble and sincere to everyone who's ever read any of my crazy posts. I appreciate it. God's love and light to you and yours this festive. Stay blessed. V.

More posts by Vus here  /  @JustVus
Photo: Vus

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