Once we had our group, me, Khalid, Khalid’s Sri Lankan friend, a Pakistani man and a young Afghani kid, all cooperating for the escape, we had to look for the best opportunity.
Initially, we thought we could do it during visit hours. The entrance to the visit booths was about 20 meters from the door to the reception office. If we could get our entire group to the door to the visit booths, we could potentially run from there to reception, and out the door. This was ideal because, during visit hours, all the doors between the reception office and the street were usually open, as people came in and out. It was also good since, once outside, the gun towers would be less likely to shoot because there would be too many people around.
A few of us had visitors who would tell us how many police there were in reception and at the front door, and they would check the door that opened between reception and the main corridor to the cellblocks, to see if it was open, closed, locked or unlocked.
Each visit became a potential moment to act. Everyone would be ready, and wait for the news from one of our visits. If the doors were all open and the number of guards seemed manageable, we were all agreed we would go. This became a weekly exercise in suspense and adrenaline control. It always came down to my decision, because I was the one who would primarily do the fighting. One week the number of police would be low, but the door to reception would be locked. Another week the door would be open, but there would be too many police.
This went on, literally, for a couple of months.
The tension and frustration was becoming difficult for the group to bear. Khalid began to accuse me of being scared, that I wasn’t serious about escaping. He wanted us to go if the door was open, regardless of how many police there were. But I knew this wasn’t realistic, and we had to be patient.
One Friday, the news was that all the doors were open, but there were at least 18 police between reception and the front door. We were all gathered and ready, and I had to decide if we should go for it. Visit security procedures were becoming stricter, and we were likely not going to be able to have visitors after that day because the police were checking people’s visas, and our visitors were not staying in the country legally. After that day, we would not be able to get information about the doors and police presence.
18 police in a span of about 50 meters? Plus visiting families? I was sure at least one or two of us wouldn’t be able to make it. I said no.
After that, we had no more visits, no more information, and we had to rethink the plan again.
These frequent ups and downs, hopes and disappointments, and the constant tension was taking its toll. There was increasing friction between the brothers in the group, some wanted to give up the idea of escape altogether, others blamed me and talked about coming up with their own plan to escape alone. It was a struggle to maintain our patience and unity.
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