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MARCHING POWDER

highest-ranking official in the jail was asking me to buy cocaine for him.

'Well?' he asked, raising his eyebrows again, but I didn't know what to do. I was almost lost for words.

'Five grams of what, my governor?' I managed to stammer, pretending not to know what he was talking about. I honestly wished there was a black hole in the floor next to me. I wanted to step into it and just disappear.

'Coca, what else? Pollo. Don't play stupid with me,' he said gruffly, fixing me with a heavy stare. He even knew the code name for cocaine.

'But ... you're not joking with me, my governor, are you?' I asked as politely as possible. I suspected a trap and there was no way I wanted to fall into it, but I didn't want to offend him either. He was the head of the whole prison. 'I honestly don't know about this stuff.'

'Come on, Thomas,' he patted me on the shoulder and smiled. 'The coke here in the prison is better than anywhere else in the whole of Bolivia. And if the governor of the prison can't get some coke, then who can?'

Both the girls burst out laughing and the governor joined in, adding, 'Don't look so confused, my friend. Tell me. How much is a gram these days? Still twenty bolivianos or has the price gone up again because of those bastard gringos and their crop fumigation?'

This made them laugh even more. Then I started laughing too, finally realising that it had all been a joke. And once we were all laughing, no one could stop, especially me - I was laughing the loudest of anyone, mainly from relief. In public, the governor pretended to be very strict and I had forgotten that when no one else was there, he always joked around with me. I was so stoned that I had taken him seriously and fallen for it; he had had me completely convinced.

Then the laughter stopped just as quickly as it had begun and everything changed back in an instant. My mind had played another trick on me. The governor became serious again and held out the money to me, demanding that I take it. It was no joke - he really did want me to get him some cocaine. I tried to get out of it again without being rude, but he kept insisting.

'Come on, Thomas, get me five grams. Of course you know where to get it. Come now, we're all friends here.' He pressed a pile of notes into my hand and opened the door, motioning me towards it.