Free The Easy Day Was Yesterday by Paul Jordan Page A

thought and asked Ujwal to read the statement and confirm that it read exactly as it should. Ujwal told me that it did, so I wrote the agreed words and signed the statement.
    I still believed this would end and I would make my flight to the next course at 1.00 pm. In hindsight I realise that I was the only one who believed this. I’m pretty sure those around me knew what was coming but decided not to tell me. I’m glad they didn’t. After an hour or so, Ujwal and the others walked away to chat and it was just the Sub-Inspector and me at the table. I leaned over and asked for the Sub-Inspector’s support and told him I just wanted to finish the job I came here to do and then go home to my kids and Sallie. I reminded him that I’d done everything that had been asked of me and that he had told me many times yesterday that all would be okay. The Sub-Inspector looked me in the eye and said sincerely, ‘Mister, I will support you with all my heart. This is all wrong, and I will do all I can to help you.’ I hoped that would be enough, but I couldn’t ask for more from him.
    The Sub-Inspector asked if I’d like to take a shower.
    ‘Yes,’ I said, thinking that I had better spruce up a bit for court.
    ‘Okay, wait and we will prepare it,’ he said.
    I wasn’t really sure what all that meant, so I just sat there until told to do otherwise. Ten minutes later, Ujwal gave me a plastic bag that contained a towel, a pair of massive boxer-style underpants, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a comb and this bizarre piece of thin metal that looked like half of a paper binder — the type of binder where one flat half slides over the two metal ends that have been pushed through the holes in the paper. I soon discovered that the strange device was a tongue scraper! Why they thought I needed a tongue scraper was beyond me. I asked Ujwal what the story was and he told me it was a common Indian bathroom item.
    Ujwal directed me to the shower which turned out to be an old-fashioned water pump out in the open for all to see, and when the big white man had a wash everyone came to look. Ujwal told me how the shower routine was to work. I wrapped a sarong around me, pulled down my jeans, took off my shirt and, in my underwear and sarong, I poured water over my head and washed 24 hours of sweat off. When I was done, I dried myself as best I could with a wet sarong and underpants on. I then removed my jocks and pulled on the massive new jocks and got dressed. Bloody hell, what a drama — a shower would be easier and, by the time I was dressed, I would be covered in sweat and need another wash. This is shit, I thought. I wanted to strangle that old prick at the border for fucking me around like this. I should have had a nice sleep-in this morning followed by a lazy walk around town before going to the airport to fly west for another training course. Bastard!
    Again I called the High Commission guy to keep him updated. He asked if I’d like them to find me a lawyer. I agreed, but they rang back and said I was too remote and they couldn’t find one nearby. They also needed me to confirm who they could pass information to. I gave them Sallie’s details. I also spoke to Sallie to tell her the latest and sent her my son Sam’s contact number in case I was going to gaol. Sallie told me to stop being so dramatic. I hoped I was being dramatic, but I had an uneasy feeling. I also sent her my brother Trevor’s cell number just in case. Again, Sallie gave me the standard reassurance that I’d normally give people in sticky situations like this. So I wasn’t sure if she actually believed what she said, although I thought she probably did.
    By now my cell phone was almost flat, so I asked the Inspector if he had a charger for my hardened Nokia. The good news was that he did and lent it to me. The bad news was that there was still no power, so the charger was useless. So I decided to turn my phone off until after court to preserve the battery.
    The same