A loud “clack” sound awakes me.
The locks on the bars are released as I open my eyes and my nostrils are rushed with the smell of cold toast and my cell mates’ sour feet. You can feel the cold from the hard cement walls and steel bars without touch. The aura of pain, misery, depression and doubt fills the air. The fight that broke out last night due to a game of Texas Hold ’em poker has the room on edge. Our cells are as big as two small bathrooms and hold five beds.
The lack of space can cloud your judgement and peace.
I was once told jail can make you tougher. I wonder if they meant courage or the lack of empathy you develop from being surrounded by so many cold souls. The lack of hope can easily seep into your heart and leave it frozen from loneliness. The disconnect from the world can leave you numb.
Inside, we wonder: What are our kids doing? Our partners? It all can drive a man mad. I have seen a man almost choked to death over a television channel. Was it the TV or the lack of letters, commissary and visits? The gray-painted brick walls do not evoke calmness or stability as maybe the designer was told. On a dreadful day, gray can turn pink when mixed with someone’s blood.
Seeking comedy to avoid the gloom has become a defense mechanism. A good day can be filled with laughs over a friendly game of Spades. “You’re set” will be screamed out as a way to express you’ve been beat in the game. A whole lot of trash talking and card smacking make the game more entertaining. Many perfected the game so they could gamble and not be beat. Their motto is, “If I don’t win, I don’t eat. This is my bread and meat.”
I dipped my toast in the warm milk to make it softer. The bland taste fills my mouth. “Why are they serving grown men stale Cheerios? We must be hated!”
The food tray is brown to match the color of my skin. It has four spaces for food, but only two are filled—reminding me of the voids I still deal with from the lack of a father. You might starve to death if you depended on these meals. Four seats to a table but many sit alone. The lack of privacy forces you to learn things about people you would rather not have known.
We return the trays to get cleaned. Hopefully, you were able to sneak something back to your cell. Without a commissary, you might need a snack to hold you in the time between. The time is 4 a.m. but there are no windows to tell.
A loud clack, that’s the sound of bars locking the cell. Laying back on your hard bed to try and close your eyes, just to repeat it again the next day.
Vernell Cauley is a personal trainer in Madison who also runs a nonprofit that is a dropout prevention and intervention mentoring program. Cauley’s vision is to cut through the pipeline to prison and poverty and replace mental despair with positive role modeling, while guiding students through an illuminated pipeline built of hope, mental prosperity and academic success.
