Letters from prison (Nelson Maatman)

[Dean]

Hi guys,

I'm Dean, assistant to Nelson Maatman during his incarceration in Mexico. If you wish to contact him or send him something you can contact me and I'll help out. Nelson would really appreciate it!

He writes a lot of stories about his situation and his memories and I really don't know were to publish them. Since he was inspired by a discussion on this forum for his most recent writing I thought I'd publish it here.



Picking up the soap bill
Conversation between two European prisoners in Mexico
November 10th 2024
By Nelson Maatman

Recently another West European got moved into my cell. He's still in shock and mentally detached from reality. I get it, but there is no time to process. He needs to face reality now.

“Sir, I know our previous conversations haven't gone well, but the cell wants me to talk to you. Can we try again and start over?”, I ask.
“It's always about money. I already paid for everything”, Henk says.

The first words out of his mouth are enough for me to understand today will be another fruitless effort. I'm still going to try. I have to.

I sigh, “No, you haven't, and people are complaining that you don't perform your duties.”
“I carried all the water this afternoon and I bought the cleaning product for the cell”, Henk says.
“No, you only did half of it and a bucket has gone missing. You're responsible for that bucket.”
“This is the first time I hear about this. It's not easy at my age to carry all that water. 20 buckets a day, it's too much. Nobody uses that much water.”
“Then pay someone to do it. It is only one peso a bucket.”
“Yes, I know. It's impossible to be here all the time. Sometimes I'm in different places”, says Henk.
“Yes, but you have to come back to carry the water.”
“How can I do that when I don't know when there is water? Today they told me 3:00, but there was no water until 3:30.”
“I know the city has a water crisis, but that's just something we have to deal with. In my last apartment we only had water between four and six in the morning.”
“It's crazy. I don't know any place in the world like that”, says Henk.
“We’re in a huge city high up in the mountains that gets its water from a thousand miles away.”
“My city is up in the mountains too.”
“Yes, but we're not in europe.”
“I'm sure in the United States…”
I don't let him finish, “Nor are we in the States. Maybe once they finish fixing the damage to the pipes because of the 1987 earthquake things will be better, but that won't be until at least 2050.”
“I'll be dead then.”
“You wouldn't be the first one to die here.” That's something the spirit of an earlier inhabitant of my cell keeps reminding me of. It used to bully me. I can see it, hear it and sometimes feel it, but I soon realized it has no control over the physical world, so it's screaming and murder attempts stopped being scary.
A couple of months ago I made an offering to a demigod of mischief -a child spirit- and the mean spirit got driven off. The child spirit played with me all night manipulating the physical world. It didn't scare or astound me. It accepted me and my offering.
Any of it real? I don't know.

“You’re responsible for replacing any buckets that get stolen”, I explain.
“I will find it tomorrow. It has the number of our cell on it. Why would anybody steal it?”
“Because it's worth 4 euros and people live of that.”
“It has our number on it, I will find it tomorrow”, Henk insists.
“Or someone scrubbes the number off.”
“Who would steal it?”
It's pointless arguing.
“You also still need to get the items for cleaning the cell: A bucket, a broom and a floor wiper”, I explain.
“I already got the product for cleaning.”
“Yes, and so did everyone else.”
“I don't know that.”

I'm getting really annoyed again. Second day he was here he asked me to put it all on paper and sign it. Everyone advised against it, but I knew exactly what he planned to do with it. He used the paper as ‘evidence’ of my ‘extortion’ when filing complaints with the prison authorities and his embassy. It's only proof of his lunacy.
I get all the cleaning products from a shelf above the toilet. A toilet I supposedly also extorted him for using when I was to tell him to pay his fair share in maintenance. He didn't get -and still doesn't- that the government didn't pay for that toilet, we did.
I show Henk 3 kg of powdered soap, 3 l of liquid soap and 3 l of bleach. “This didn't just drop from the air, we all put in our part”, I say annoyed.
“All these things are too much. I only have a pension and I have to pay for my house and car in Europe”, Henk explains.
“Then sell those! You don't need them.”
“That's easy for you, you are rich.”

He's making my blood boil. I know exactly what he gets each month and it's 8 times what I get. For some reason the fact that I smoke weed and the mafia often gives me a free line of coke means I'm a drug lord. According to this idiot that is.

“Sir, you're not poor. I saw you eat a 180 peso plate of pasta accompanied by a 3 l bottle of coke today. Nobody here buys expensive plates like that or a 3 l Coke all for themselves. Most people live a week of what you spend on lunch”, I say having difficulty keeping my head cool.
“It's been terrible months for me. Can't I enjoy something?”

…

I think it may be illegal to write down what goes on in my head right now.

“Of course you can. You can spend your money on whatever you want: hookers, crack, food, I don't care, but you have to pay your part of the cost of the cell”, I explain.
“But in my country…”
I interrupt him again, “We're not in your country. We're in a developing world banana republic cartel prison. If you don't pay your part, the rest of us will have to pay for you.”
“Tomorrow I will talk to the prison to negotiate the cost.”
This guy is completely delusional.
“Sir, if you’d been a Mexican we would have beaten the shit out of you by now”, I comment.
“What? No, only bad people do that”, he says unencumbered.

…

“You live in a cell with two murderers, a rapist, two armed robbers, a slave trader and a drug trafficker. We are bad people!”, I say annoyed.
“Maybe it's easy for you because you've been here for so long”, Henk says.
“I got brought in accused of being a child sex slave trader. I fought hundreds of times, I've been tortured, sexually assaulted, but I've always completed my duty and shown my loyalty to my crib from day one.”
“No. I don't believe that.”
“Whether you do or don't is irrelevant, it's true. Right now I'm having to deal with extortionists over my boyfriend”, I add.
“Maybe, I don't know, this is not my world.”
“It is your world”, I say.
“Maybe your case is different, but the minister of my country will call and explain it's an exception.”
“That's not how it works. You're going to be here for a long time and you need to accept that.”
“No, you're a drug dealer. I have never been to prison in my life.”
“Sir, I'm not your enemy. I'm trying to help, but the reality is you thought you were going to make a quick Buck trying to smuggle 4 kilos of hard drugs in your suitcase and now you're dealing with the consequences of your own actions. Nobody here feels sorry for you”, I explain.
“You are my enemy! You always want money and you're making up stories!”, Henk says angrily.

I can't believe how many hours I now have spent arguing with a European over 12 euros.

“Sir, you have the right to believe whatever the fuck you want. I wish you the best, I'm done interpreting for you”, I say.
I light a cigarette and climb up on my bunk.
“Did you tell him to do the dishes too?”, Jose asks, switching the conversation from English and German to Mexican Spanish.
“It's pointless. This guy doesn't understand where he is”, I explain.
“These fucking foreigners never want to do anything!”
“Oye! I'm a foreigner”, I complain.
“No güey, you're Mexican.”

I'm not sure if that should make me feel proud of myself or just disturbed.

[BLueRibbon]

Hi Dean,

Thank you for helping Nelson.

Would he be interested in writing something for a Mu article? It could be in the form of an interview, or as a guest blog.

[Dean]

Would he be interested in writing something for a Mu article? It could be in the form of an interview, or as a guest blog.

Send an email [nelson@politician.com] with the details/wishes to Nelson. I know he still writes articles and short stories next to his book projects.