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MARCHING POWDER

with drugs in prison?’ he always asked. There was an answer: ‘Keep you in there a lot longer.’

On the scale of cocaine offences, two hundred grams wasn't much. But the amount wasn't that important. Dealing in jail carried a heavy sentence no matter what, since it was a second offence. I didn't know what the exact penalty was, but I guessed the judges could add anything between five and fifteen years to my sentence if the case went to court. And the worst thing about it was that I was actually innocent this time. I have heard that for some people, knowing that they are innocent is the only thing that keeps them going while in prison. For me, it was the opposite; it made it worse. It made me realise that being innocent or guilty wasn't relevant. They could do what they wanted with you, and you were completely powerless to stop them.

I hadn't forgotten Abregon, either. What he was going through in Chonchocoro must have been far worse. I had no way of helping him from where I was. There was now no chance of getting any money to him; I couldn't operate my shop or restaurant; I couldn't run the tour business; I couldn't even sell any of my possessions or mortgage my room. And worse still, I didn't have any way of telling him what had happened to me. For all he knew, I might have been part of the plot to send him to maximum security in order to steal his money.

I often thought of Yasheeda. I had a lot of time to think about our relationship. I kept remembering one crazy night in particular, when we were both drunk and high, and we both said some crazy things to each other. We decided that we were going to get a little house together somewhere. It didn't matter where. Maybe we would have to rent at first, but we would both work hard in order to save up. I was going to quit trafficking. I didn't care what I had to do to get by. Maybe we could stay in Bolivia where everything was cheaper and I could teach English. I would clean toilets if I had to. Anything to be with her. We made love all that night and smoked marijuana and laughed in between times. I think I even proposed to her.

We never mentioned that conversation again, but I remembered it and I'm sure that she did too. We were crazy that night, and the things we said to each other were crazy, but they were true at the time. Part of me still wanted them to be true. But they couldn't be. Not if I was locked up in prison. I wondered which country Yasheeda was in now and what she was doing. I realised how stupid I had been, driving her