Access-A-Hut's Blog

December 9, 2011

Prison mentality–repost

Filed under: Uncategorized — by accessahut @ 7:54 am

Somehow, this was supposedly posted before–like two weeks or so ago–, but you know me and technology.  Ooy, Deena, how can YOU be so @#$@#@ stupid when it comes to cell phones and blogs and posts my elit(e) friends are asking.  It’s because I like links, images, sound, etc. and the multiplexities of complexity you can get with electronic literature (see my textbook.)  But I hate the way I have to get to them.  So I sabotage myself.  Sorry about that.  Anyway, I was checking and saw I had not actually posted this.  Sorry about that. As MaJe would say, we need to stop apologizing–as women we need to take back our power. Right. Sorry about that.

When I got to J-berg, I was in so much pain from the dislocated hip, knee, elbow, shoulder, and stupidly enough, two  fingers, one on each hand, that I did not notice the surroundings.  Got into taxi, got into hotel, accepted help from the people there to get to the room and get into bed, thanked the Lady for looking after me.

Then when I got up to go to the airport for Port Elizabeth, I noticed I was in a medium security prison neighborhood.  There was razor wire on all the fences, and every building was behind a fence. They even had a shopping mall in this rather nice prison–you could see the sign out front and then you went through security and two sets of brick walls topped with razor wire.

I asked the taxi driver how far the prison extended, as we had now been driving for five minutes and we were still driving along the walls of the prison.  He looked at me very oddly.  We have not passed a prison, Miss. He said.  I looked out.  Brick walls, about 6 feet high, with either circles of razor wire or things that scoop your knee caps out along all of the tops of the walls.  Bars on every window that was visible from behind the walls.  Big thick bars.  Um…. but isn’t that a medium security prison there—I pointed.  No miss. That is a school. Ummmmmmm…. ooookayyyyy,…

All of the “nicer” houses are like this, the taxi driver said.   I nodded. What the hell have I let myself in for???????????

I am now settled at the B&B. I am to keep my doors locked at all times.  There are fat skeleton keys which I am to use.–somewhat like the ones at the Zang Mansion where MaJe had her office, but apparently “safer”  There is a gate which doesn’t work well that I am to open with this remote.  The walls are only a fence with spikes, and the bars on the window are not thick.

hmmmm…this is a bit… welll…

Ahh, I thought, Carolyn Forche would have been intrigued, as it is not just the Colonel’s house:

Broken bottles were embedded in the walls around the house to scoop the kneecaps from a man’s legs or cut his hands to lace. On the windows there were gratings like those in liquor stores.

and how many colonels are there behind these doors?

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