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Waiting Cell – Big

The man leads me into a cold non-descript cell, very cold and sterilized looking yet a feeling that many a poor soul has sat here worried about their future. In just a short while, I will be standing in front of Judge Hinckley, apparently a good and fair man. It just does not seem to be very real. The chains around my feet and the way it gouges at my ankles . . . just like in the movies, the way I imagined it to be . . . maybe even worse. This time it is ME and I have feelings, longings and high hopes of getting only time served instead of maybe 33 to 47 months, I could even get 5 years!

No, I do not even want to think about it . . . Creator is no my side . . . I have prayed for the last 6 months and done everything I know to be good and have cleansed my mind of hatred, forgiven even those whom have hurt me more than I care to mention. I went as far back as the womb of my mother, when I was still swimming . . . in a world protected by darkness and water. Now the darkness frightens me and water seems the only escape from the sounds of this awful experience. I have to get back on track here . . . got to set my mind straight and think only thoughts of victory.

“Thank you Lord for what you’ve done for me
Thank you Lord for what you’re doing now
Thank you Lord for every little thing
Thank you Lord for you make me sing
Sing along, sing along”

The song from Bob Marley comes out of me like a soldier longing for his loved one that has had enough of the killing, the blood, the pain – both internal and external; they really are almost the same – the blood but a reflection of the oozing of the dreadful heart.

I hear the clanging of the keys. A sound I have grown accustomed to over the past 6 months in jail. It signals the coming of an officer, of news, mail, food or just another shakedown.

The key opens the door to my destiny. I look at the gentleman, I have seen him before, the last time I came for a plea bargain. I wonder what he thinks of all these people all shackled up and pretending to be innocent (as most of us think we are. Creator surely does not judge us by our wrong actions, but gently guides us towards the correct way that does not harm so that we can learn our lessons and grow stronger from them, so that we do not have to make the same mistakes again). The only way to learn and grow is by making mistakes – NOT BY BEING LOCKED UP AND TREATED LIKE SOME CRIMINAL!

He takes me once again into the little FBI looking elevator, with a cage built into it and yet again, I am locked into it while we take the ride to the courtroom. Oh my God, this is really happening to me, my heart is beating just like the cartoons portray it, just jumping out of my chest. I do not know if I am going to make it through this. I have this strange feeling in my gut, something is wrong, something is going to happen, and I mean something really bad. I hate those feelings I get, have gotten them since I was a kid. They always come out right, they always tell me of things to come, things I do not want to know nor ask about in fear of finding out the truth. It just comes to me in a very urgent way that rings true in my soul but not in my head.

As he leads me into yet another cell, this time only a smaller one, the one I was in the last time, it does not give me the same secure feeling it did the last time, I feel a foreboding and a heaviness creeping into my soul. I try to sing a song to quiet down my dreadful thoughts and my pounding heart but my voice is tight with fear. Just like my grandmother used to tell me . . . fear will grip you around the throat like a heavy black hand that brings you down into the lower levels of the dark world where it is hard to fight or see the light. I understand her now, I can feel it and there is nothing I can do about it but feel it and live it and be with it until it goes away. I have learnt throughout my life about just letting thoughts come and go and not attaching myself to them. I know the art, now I only have to apply it. The sweat is running down the inside of my bra down the middle of my breasts. I know that it will pass, every thing passes sooner or later. I have learnt much in these past months of jail house living. When things get too much to handle, you just have to know that it too will pass and that tomorrow is not just another day but also a day where things “might” happen in a different way.

Here come the keys again! The officer opens the gate and leads mi into the courtroom. I see my whole life silently floating in front of me. The air is thick as fog in Nova Scotia . . . it holds a certain mystery that children like to think of as exciting but to me now it seems stifling and closter phobic. This is the day, this is the hour; this is it! Today my life will make a turn at the crossroads of my destiny. I somehow know which way I am going to go . . . seeing that it has to do with destiny. All the déjà vu’s I have had, which tells me that I am exactly where I am supposed to be or where I was not supposed to be or where I used to be in another life. Where I could have prevented this and chosen a different path, but NO I am on the same old path of destruction and wasting my time away talking the same road over and over and over again. It reminds me of that song of Jack Johnson, “and it always goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on it goes, hm hm hm hm, and it’s always been stop and go and fast and slow and action, reaction and sticks and stones and broken bones, those for peace and those for war and God bless these ones not those ones but these ones, in times like these, and times like those, what will be will be, and so it goes, and it always goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on it goes, hm hm hm, hm hm hm hm, hm hm hm hm hm, somehow I know, it wont be the same, somehow I know, it will never be the same . . . . . . . . . . .”

There, sitting in the pew-like benches behind the little wooden railing, is my brother and his wife, Yael, m y best friend, the one that has never let me down, always has been around, no matter what, she has been there for me. She has never judged me nor blamed me nor thought of me as a sick human being or just out of my mind, and she can tell you some stories about my life that will put any lawless person to shame! She is my angel, the love of my life, the ONE that I will die for to defend and protect with all of my living soul. She looks so small sitting there next to my tall, sinewy brother with his cold watery icy blue eyes. His big teeth show as I walk past, with his uncomfortable smile that I know so well, oh hell, Li is in trouble again, when is she ever going to learn? I shift my eyes toward my loved one, Yael, she is reaching out to me with all of her soul and her spirit is talking to mine, telling me to just breathe through it and to let go, that everything is in its place and that all will be just as it is supposed to be.

“I love you very much, with all of my heart. There is nothing to fear but fear itself Li. I know you and I know that you can get through anything if you just put your mind to it.” comes the message from her mind to mine. We have always been very connected and distance has never mattered. This time I truly know how she feels inside and what she is going through and how much it hurts her to see me this way.She is feeling my fear, my worries and my dreadfulness. I relax and take a deep breath as the tears roll down my cheeks. I have to sit down and look the other way. I cannot handle looking at her any longer. My strength is waning and I am starting to become very emotional. I turn towards my attorney, Clifford Davis of Monticello, Florida, a real cowboy, and a true gentleman of the olden days. I know this man; we have been together before, in another life, he looks out for me like a long lost lover, very tender and sincere. His Stetson hat is lying on the table in front of us. He motions for me to sit down, he must have known that my knees are very wobbly and that I need to just sit there and look into his calming blue eyes. I take my seat, soft and comfortable, too comfortable. I feel I have been sucked into a big black hole and that I cannot do anything about it. It is yet another reflection of my inner feelings. Everything on the inside eventually will manifest into your reality s concrete evidence of your thoughts and feelings. That is exactly how the nature of personal reality works, trust me, I know. I have studied it for the last 10 years and I am almost an expert in letting you know what you are thinking or how you normally go about doing your business called life. I can see reflected in your life the thoughts you hold about yourself and of others. It is all very obvious to me now as I sit here in this stifling courthouse, feeling the blood drain from my life. I feel as if everyone can see my thoughts and fears and even smell my anxiety. The air is thick with wave upon wave of feelings of mine, of Yale, my brother, Cliff, the other people present and of all those whom have come before me; it never seems to end, the feeling of helplessness that stays in the air for eternity. Nothing can be erased or disappears, it is forever written in the airy records of life. Some call it the Akashic Records. I can see them now, just as lovely Stevie used to tell me about. Yes, the man who saved my life 10 years ago with love and music and lots of compassion. Steve Cerilli, the man that changed my life. I wish I had another Stevie to save me now. Only Creator can do that now and even so, I think I have had one too many chances to get out of this one. Fuck, fuck, and fuck! . . . Even my language has dropped down into the gutter with my feelings of helplessness. It all works together, feelings, words, heartache, mind, body, we are all one in all of our thoughts, which affects our actions, so no matter which way WE go, we are connected in every which way possible and impossible to imagine. I used to read about that, NOW I am living it! Creator has such a strange way of making things known to us. To become real we have t live it and not just know it. I have graduated!

The judge is about to come in, we have been asked to stand with an unspoken code. My nerves are shot, my chains around my legs are shaking and my legs are numb.

Judge Hinckley sits down and so does everyone else. The show is on the road and everything is taking on a very familiar look, not as far as what I see with my eyes, but what I am feeling with my whole being. I am only looking at the judge and now I am staring at the first and only witness, the man from the drug enforcement agency.

The are all babbling about what Lee (co-defender) had said about me. I still cannot believe that I did what I did with such a fuck head! Excuse my language. He is the only person I really trusted (at a weak moment in my life and when I was very friggen high on crack, like never before) and he turns out to be the one who betrays me. I know deep down inside of my soul that he could not be trusted but I chose not to listen to that VOICE and do my own thing. Take it to the limit one more time – which turns out to be the last song I listened to before being caught at that dingy motel – the last time! I try to focus on what is going on in the courtroom. I find it hard because I know that Cliff will handle everything just fine and that all I have to do is listen (which is what I precisely do not want to do). I have had enough of listening to Lee’s sickening revelatory story of my life – the bastard – I would like to some day go back, see him behind bars, and spit in his face. We could both have been saved from drugs and had a different life but the dumb bastard had to go on autopilot with his ways that have been engraved in him since childhood. He had no other option but to not trust me and to hurt me before I hurt him (which I had not one ounce of in me then, but now I would hurt him with my bare fists and beat him until I felt better).

As I get my thoughts back to the present, the judge says that he wants to go over the previous records of where I accepted responsibility to make sure he remembers everything correctly. They call a recess, we stand up and the judge walks out. We all stay behind and wait in the ever-growing thickness of the other world. I look around to where my family is, but I see only their energy imprints where they had been sitting. Jaco must have gone out for a cigarette, which I could very well also go for, even though I thought that I did not want to smoke again. I know now that all I want is a smoke, bad!

Cliff turns his attention to me and makes a joke or two. He tells me that my “husband” had been by to talk to him and dropped off a CD of his poetry. It made him laugh thinking about my “husband”. “He, (I am not one for joking around or laughing much) but your “husband” sure has a way of bringing it out of me” says Cliff.

As he is talking, I take out a butterscotch wrapper from my bra, which is filled with coconut conditioner for black people’s hair, to moisten my lips. “Is that cocaine or what?” says Cliff. I just smile at him as he continues, “I don’t have a problem with marijuana, but that!”

“Don’t worry Cliff; it is only for my lips. You should know better that that. I am a good girl,” I say with a wicked crooked smile.

Cliff gives me a sly laugh looking around him to see if anyone heard us or was looking at my suspicious looking wrapper. My brother was back with Yael, sitting so up straight in the pew, as if he swallowed a broomstick. The nerves and atmosphere must also be working on them, probably even more than so for them than me. If they send me to prison, I know that my brother will think that he will have to look after me for all the time and that is yet another responsibility for him.

I cannot stand looking at them both. It brings tears to my eyes and makes my heart go all soft and sad. I turn towards Cliff again and he starts talking once again. “I’m gonna have to come and visit you some day in South Africa, see if those cowboys know what they are doing!”

“Anytime you want to come over Cliff, I would be happy to put you up and show you around. It is a beautiful country and I have lots of stories I would like to share with you.” I say as if we are old buddies and just chatting at a bar.

“All rise.” Judge Hinckley is back again. We wait for him to sit down and then we all do the same. My mind starts to wonder again. This judge has a strange effect on me. I trust him, even though it seems like everything is changing in front of me, and that is will be getting some time, I still feel like he is somehow on my side. He is making absolutely sure of all evidence and cannot seem to see what the prosecutor is trying to get at.

The judge continues. “I now have before me a difficult decision to make. I will have to give Miss Kotze 21 months, which seems too little in the eyes of the prosecutors but they just do not have enough evidence to support their claims. Then again, to Miss Kotze, I might be giving you a little too much but it does seem that you did not cooperate with us as to where you got the marijuana from and did not take full responsibility for your crime.” The judge looks back at his paper work and then looks back at me.

“Do you understand that you also can appeal this hearing within the next 10 days?”
“Yes your honour” I reply in a small voice not my own.
“Well then, my decision has been made, I thank everyone present.” He gets up and collects his paperwork.
“Thank you judge Hinckley” is all I could get out of myself.

I was heavy with dread. I could not even look at my family for very long. I wanted to go over and hold on to them and cry and moan, but I just walked straight out of the courtroom without even saying anything to my attorney. I just kept on walking with the chains clanging around my feet.

“Chains on my feet have fallen from me, for I escaped, this prison wall, I see a man hanging from a cross, who paid the cost! ‘Cause I’m a prisoner, I can't explain the mystery, I am a prisoner, and I want to be free, I am a prisoner, and I’m just as good as I ever was, I’m a prisoner, of love!” is ringing in my ears, the song I learnt in church at the jail.

The song was just going through my head like some broken or stuck old record. I thought that would be the song that I would sing after being sentenced and only getting time served, but NO, NO, NO; I got TIME and did not even sing that song! 21 months! Oh my God, I cannot believe this. This is not happening to me. I thought Creator was going to take this away from me and let me get out because I had learnt my lesson and 6 months in jail was enough to have gotten my head straight. This cannot be happening to ME. I always get out of all the shit I have ever been in, no matter what. Something went wrong this time. Where is Creator and what is all this about? Someone has got to help me!!!!

They take me back to my little cell. I see a dreadlock man leaving with kaki clothing on. I am just walking in a daze and following what they tell me to do. I sit down and wait for them to lock the door. I have kept all my emotions in, like I always do. I did not want anyone to see what I was going through on the inside of me. I have to keep everything hidden from everyone. If they see my pain or weakness, then they can hurt me. I have to keep it in, cannot let it show, not now, not after all of this shit!

As soon as I am alone, I start to cry like a baby in solitary. Only by myself can I let go and be me, I am too afraid to show my real feelings in fear of rejection or of being looked upon as too weak or soft or vulnerable, yet that is exactly how I feel. Lost, scared, and worried about my children, the same children I never thought of before. My life just made a swing completely in the other direction. What am I going to do? How am I going to make it?

I just cried and cried out loud like a little girl. The vulnerable little girl inside of me was out in the open. There was no one there to see or hear. She did not care anymore. There was no way that she could keep all those emotions inside any longer. I have hidden all of those deep feelings for years now; I just can not control anything any longer.

My tears just rolled out of me like rivers flowing to the sea. They just took their own course and flowed so naturally. All I could do was witness my own pain, and sorrow. The waste of my life, the wrong decisions I have made, the consequences of them. THIS!

I could no longer feel sorry for myself for it would not help me anymore, not like it used to get me whatever I wanted. But now, with these prison folk, it was not going to work. I have to pull myself together, get a grip on my life and accept the fact that I will be doing 17 more moths in prison for being STUPID!! There is nothing anyone can do that will change my sentence; I have to deal with it. Move forward, go into my pain, walk with head held high, and be me. That is all I can do now. Forget the past; forget the old stories and old ways of manipulating to get what I wanted. Now I can only be me or rather I can just be me!! It is all I have ever wanted. I have just been too scared to BE! Always needed to het high on something to have the courage to be me!! Now I will have to dig deep into my soul and see who I really am, for up to now, even while in jail, I had pretended to be someone that I was not. Always trying to be GOOD! Well, I do not know what that means anymore. I can not pretend any longer. It will cost me my soul and my happiness and in here, I have the opportunity to just get to know myself and see what happens. There are people in here who are just like me and no one is watching or judging me anymore. No one in here wants to be judged for who they are. We all committed crimes due to our pain, due to other peoples expectations of whom we are supposed to be. Now I will just be me and fuck the rest!

I can already feel the heaviness drop away from me. Something has changed inside of me. How can that be? So quick? Is that what Paul meant when he said that the scales had fallen off his eyes and the heaviness just lifted? God, something different has just happened to me and I have no idea what is going on. I did not plan on this nor did I give a response, it just happened to come out of me so naturally like a bee flying to a flower to drink from it. Freedom to just let it all out. My God, I thought I would die just knowing that I was going to spend so much time in prison, but quite the contrary has occurred. I have been set free, my salvation has arrived and in such an odd way that I have no way to even explain but o express my surprise and my own beauty and bravery. I am truly someone of extraordinary power and a gift of making light of any situation. WOW! I can now see what others have seen in me over my ears of growing out of my sulking manners. How is it possible that I could never see it? Is it meant to be so that only others can see your shortcomings and you theirs? Is that why we are not made to be single but to have a mate? To love and not through constant correction and analyzing ourselves to a pulp? Oh, the time I have wasted in criticizing others and myself in the name of improvement. It is all so useless, so utterly stupid and lame. I must remember to jot this down in my journal, the first true words from my mouth in years. This is a revelation and an opening for higher things to come. This is yet the beginning of my life. I thought my life was over but to my surprise, my life has just begun!