Apologize that it has been delayed but here it comes.
Me and my girlfriend woke up early morning that it sounded like someone was trying to knock the door to the hotel room we stayed. I hurried up and locked up the door. Outside, a bunch of armed police officers stood and gaped something beyond me in Spanish. It was obviously some kind of rassia where they wanted to check certain things, me and my friend who were responsible for the hotel were ordered to show us the immigration in Santo Domingo the following day at 8 in the morning with our passports.
My girlfriend couldn’t show off her ID so she immediately took them to the police station and locked in. My friend informed me that they would probably release her later in the day. The day went by and it went to evening and no girlfriend appeared so I decided to visit the uncle police at the station. It was only a few hundred meters from the hotel.
The first thing I meet in the house is my crying girlfriend inside a grille together with some of the neighborhood’s joy girls who were not so happy either. I try to get an explanation for why she was locked up and if she could not be released, in very clumsy Spanish. It was not possible for the chief of police to have gone for the day and the four police officers who were left were not empowered to release her.
I asked if I got bid on some beers in the heat and the feeling they were a good idea. I quickly moped to the hotel and picked up a cardboard box with 24 well-chilled Presidents and we drank and felt good. After a number of beer, one of the police officers came to my girlfriend perhaps being moved from the cell and staying overnight on the police chief’s couch in a slightly better environment and nobody had any objection to this. My girlfriend was moved and the beer eventually ran out so I asked if I would get more to drink. Yes please. I even got 2 armed police officers with this support.
More beer flowed through thirsty police throats and onwards one of the police hatched an idea. It was about temporarily appointing me to prison guards and bring my girlfriend to the hotel and lock her in our hotel room. Said and done, with police cards I arrived as a newly appointed prison guard to our hotel room at El Paraiso, said good night to the escort and locked us. It is a little unusual for the prison guard to lock himself in with his prisoner, but it was not a direct inconvenience in this case if you say so.
The next morning I returned my girlfriend to the police station and she could be printed directly by the police chief who was now in place. Of course I got fired as a prison guard because of well-executed guards. However, no salary was paid.
Yes, then Went on a motorcycle to the Immigration in Santo Domingo where we were locked in waiting for what would happen. There were now all non-Dominican hotels and restaurant owners throughout & nbsp; Boca Chica collected. After a whole day of nervous waiting, we were called into a long queue for a military uniform officer. next to him, everyone was in a big pile on the desk. I could see that those who came before me read a piece of paper that they then wrote their signature on. Since I couldn’t read Spanish, I didn’t understand the content but I thought it was a receipt to get the passport back so I wrote my signature as everyone else.
But now, I probably had the shit in the blue cabinet that you say, I had signed that I did not oppose being arrested for further control of my financial transactions in the hotel I was at yesterday’s rassia.
Later in the afternoon, we were chained two and two and in a long way walked through the streets of Santo Domingo to the Central Prison supervised by a bunch of armed guards. There we were locked up in cells that accommodated 4 people. Our cell was already occupied by a Haitian who lacked a residence permit and would be sent home. He had seized the only bunk that was in the cell so the night could be spent on the concrete floor.
I have seen pictures of how Swedish prisons look and I can say that they are pure luxury against this. I had to visit the toilet when I arrived, I was led to a long corridor where there were about ten toilet seats in a long row one after the other without privacy. Everyone was to the brim full of what comes out at the end that the sun does not shine in, so if you were to do number 2 then you had to do the half-standing and you did not go barefoot I can say ..
In all cases. What happened in the morning after trying to sleep on a newspaper when the rain sprinkled on me through the iron grille for windows that I foolishly put myself just below was a little fun to see.
I woke up that some bastard played the trumpet early in the morning just as the sun rose. A look out through the grid window and I got to see something very strange. The flag was on its way up and a whole fucking company with military-dressed figures stood in the mood while a trumpeter beaten a piece of crooked brass pipes so it was lovely to the front of the prison yard.
Yes it is just like in the military in Sweden you say then. Yes, but it is. What was deviant was that from where I stood and peered, you could see a large central street that passed just outside the Central Prison, which was in the middle of Santo Domingo and where every car and pedestrian had stopped and stood still while the trumpeter did end their air and the flag went to the top. That is what I call nationalism my friends.
Now it was in any case a new day and new hopes of returning to a less abnormal life began to grow so slowly, the day went on and new ones both became 1 and 2 became necessary. We had to keep our money that we had with us so we could through something get something to eat and drink, no real need for us at the moment. In fact, the only concern was to be scared.
Late in the afternoon I was called to an office where I finally had to speak to someone who could speak English. Apparently there was some height in the prison, one could imagine from his uniform that sharply reminded of a Swedish Christmas tree when it is most ornamented. He had my passport in front of his eyes and asked me what in the name of the gentleman I did in his prison because I am just a completely legal tourist who, according to his knowledge, did not make a fly down. I replied that I didn’t have a clue about the cause and that maybe he should ask those who locked me. After that, he got an outbreak that was called dove, not directed at me but to those who were apparently guilty of my location and who were in the same room. I realize that they got a deduction from the salary. He apologized to me a thousand times, arguing that this was not normal in his country, Amen.
Now one can think that a couple of days ago, ordered prison officer Urban Hahne from Sweden would be released in full freedom, but not Nicke said. First I would have to answer some formal questions, I was escorted to another small office in the prison and was questioned on just the skin of what I liked about the police, the prison and how I was treated. It took an hour of interrogation before I could finally knock out the same street that in the morning had been as petrified by the flagshit. Guess it was nice. I can still today 37 years later feel the happiness of sitting down when I shit.
That after this prison visit I nearly was getting my right leg amputated because of a fucking bacterie as I happened to catch on my visit on the prison toilet, I might write aboutthat another time. If nothing else, then have a good day my friends.