– “Water, Please!!” screamed Sheikh Buddha feebly.
– “Shut up, dirty pig! Not before breakfast!” roared the jailor who was tapping up and down the corridor behind the massive iron door.
It was stifling hot and I was sweating all over in that oven of a cell. The cell was rectangular, too narrow to enclose the three of us; Kifah, myself, and a religious colleague who had a soft lean beard, but who looked like a Buddhist monk after they had shaved his hair and beard, the day after they had brought him in. He became ugly and comic at the same time, so I started to call him “Sheikh Buddha”, which irritated him a lot, but I didn’t stop.
By the door, there was what can be called a “toilet”, and it was a big deal when one of us was obliged to do it. At first we turned…
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