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17
A VOLUNTARY INMATE

The next morning, Yasheeda called Sharon at the hostel again, saying that she was going to stay with me another night. This time, Sharon was even more worried. She thought that maybe I had kidnapped Yasheeda and was holding her hostage. I didn't understand the whole conversation, because most of it was in Hebrew, but Yasheeda switched into English a few times for my benefit.

'Look, I'm fine. Honestly. It's perfectly safe. There are women and children here . . . I can leave whenever I want . . . No, but I don't want to leave right now . . . I know, I know . . . but we can do the Salar of Uyuni tour in a few days . . . Seriously, I'm fine . . .'

I could hear Sharon yelling on the other end of the telephone. I couldn't really blame her; she was only acting as a good friend should and it must have been hard to believe that Yasheeda was perfectly happy and safe in prison with me.

'Why don't you go outside today and show her that you're fine,' I said. 'You can come back later. Or invite her to come in and see for herself.'

She did both. She went back to El Lobo and returned in the afternoon with Sharon and a bag of supplies, including fresh clothes. When the pair arrived at the gate, they sent a taxista to call me. Officially, we were only allowed visits from family and friends on Thursdays and Sundays between 9 am and 5 pm. Unofficially, you could receive visitors whenever you wanted, provided you paid. Even on non-visiting days, there was always a constant flow of people through the main gate: lawyers coming to see their clients, wives and girlfriends bringing food, and the San Pedro children travelling to and from school. All visitors had to leave their carnet – the national ID card – at