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MARCHING POWDER

'And you could charge them all an extra five bolivianos. No one would mind. This place is worth paying for. I've never seen anything like it.'

Everybody needed a job in San Pedro. Quite by accident, I had stumbled upon mine. I was to be the prison's tour guide. The guards would make their share of profit from the tourists and I could make enough money to get by. I wouldn't have to clean shoes, run errands, sell drugs, wash clothes, lend money or stand over people. Everyone would be happy, especially me.

Although the Israelis didn't get to see much of the prison, that was my first official prison 'tour'. I was grateful to that group of backpackers for helping me to find a way to spend my time in San Pedro and distract me from my trial. I felt inspired by the encouragement they had given me, but when I got back to my cell a strange thing happened: I started to cry. It was partly from happiness – I was so happy that people had come to visit me – but at the same time I felt very sad, because I wished that they didn't have to leave. Or, better still, I wanted to go with them. But I couldn't.

For a few hours, people I didn't know had made me forget my problems and feel like a normal person. They treated me like a real friend, not just someone they had to get along with because we lived in the same prison block. I had forgotten what it was like to be around nice people who don't want something from you and whom you can really trust. They had listened to what I said and had wanted to know everything about me. Now that they were gone, I was on my own again.

I wasn't completely alone, of course. Yasheeda was still with me and she was wonderful – she never got in bad moods, not even in the mornings, and she never said anything nasty about anyone. But it wasn't the same as having whole groups of wonderful people to keep me company. I really missed just sitting at a table with friends and letting the conversation go everywhere and anywhere. I knew Yasheeda and I needed to talk about our relationship, but I decided to put off the conversation until another day. Right then, I didn't trust myself to speak.

'Are you OK?' she asked. I didn't want her to see my tears, so I lay