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MARCHING POWDER

As I made my way back down the passage to my abandoned building, a small man appeared at my side, trying to attract my attention. One of his teeth was black and he had a patch of hair at the front that had turned completely grey. He started talking to me, but I ignored him, thinking he wanted money. He kept following me.

‘Thomas. ¿Usted es Thomas, sí?’

I stopped and looked at him, wondering how he knew my name. When he saw my reaction, he became more excited.

‘Thomas, sí? El negro de Inglaterra, sí?’

He took me lightly by the elbow and led me back up to the courtyard and through a door to the side of the main gates.

The door led into a very narrow room that was packed with prisoners. The wall in front had metal bars about chest height and on the other side of the bars was a similar room packed with women, who were speaking to the prisoners. Among the mass of women I spotted a fair-skinned, middle-aged woman waving to me. She was slightly taller than the others and had greyish hair and gentle blue eyes. My guide with the black tooth took me up to her and pointed at me.

The woman gave him a coin and then looked at me and asked, ‘Thomas? You’re Thomas, right?’

I nodded and she offered me her tiny hand through the bars.

‘I’m Sylvia. Sylvia Venables.’

I can hardly describe the wave of joy that passed over me to hear someone speaking English with an English accent. My spirits lifted immediately. Finally, there was someone who could understand me. However, I still didn’t know what to say because I was confused about how she knew about me.

When she saw my confusion, she said, ‘My husband and I are with the Anglican Church in Bolivia. We’re from England originally and we saw you on television. We wanted to know if you were OK.’

Then I remembered. The police had called the television stations when they arrested me, although I had refused to answer any of the journalists’ questions. I kept repeating that I was innocent and that I was English and that I needed help. That had been two weeks before, so I didn’t think anyone had seen it. I kept staring at her, not knowing how to thank her for coming.

‘Thomas. Are you OK?’

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