Small Victories

I’m not in a good state. It’s like my mind is a cotton bud, slowly being pulled apart. Getting thinner and thinner. It’s stretched out so far you can see straight through it. I am worn out and I feel defeated. I’m not eating, my appetite is gone. I feel like a ball in a pinball machine, just getting smacked from place to place. They single me out because I’m different and I’m easy to pick on. There is no point to react, but just let them claim control. As they yell at me, I bow, I do what they instruct and keep silent.

It’s Sunday today. That means no visitors. That means the day is so much harder to get through. Weekdays tend to go faster. People get called out for appointments, and the days have a buzz to them. Nights, any night, of course don’t count. I don’t sleep. Since 4873 arrived I am positioned under the fluorescent light. They keep it on. It’s just another way for them to exert control. I tried bending my elbow over my face, to shade my eyes. But they tap at the bars.

Da-me!

She barks that that isn’t allowed. I turn over to my left side, facing towards the front of the room, towards the bars but away from the light. It isn’t any good. The white light shines directly into my face. I roll onto my stomach and wedge the small rice pillow under my face and try to bury in it.

Da-me!

I can’t cover my face. So, I lie on my stomach, with my head bent forwards, propped up with my fists. I stare at the wall, I could extend my arm and touch it, but I don’t. I start counting. I count to one thousand, I continue the climb. I make it to twelve hundred, when my mind starts to wander. So I start again. Most nights I count until about eight thousand, mind focused on one task only. Just counting. I can’t ever get past eight thousand before my eyes start to slowly blink close or my mind wanders. I’m exhausted.

Today is day twenty-nine. Twenty nine. Each day I sink lower into my pit of shame. It’s shower day. We can only have showers every five days. More control. It’s worse if you have your period. You have to wait for all of the other women to use the shower and bath block. The bath is always cold by then. I never go in anyway. I just shower. I scrub extra hard my skin is always red. Have to make it count. Sometimes I sneak my bar of soap under my shirt to keep clean, under my armpits, during morning routines, without them seeing. But it’s a risk. I already have one penalty against my name.

My first night here I remember her face. It was round like the moon. Round with two big eyes. She didn’t say anything to me. She slept where I am now. I wonder if the light annoyed her too? It was late that first night I arrived. Everyone was asleep, and all the lights were out. All but one. I was positioned at the other end of the room, the darkened end. I thought that’s where I would stay, but with each new girl arriving and with girls leaving, your number dictated where you would end up. I'm 4875. I am the highest number now. So I would be under the light, next to the toilet.

Kyu ju-san

Most of the time they omitted the first two numbers. They called her number, (48)93, she had an appointment with her lawyer. She stood up and smiled at me, a big smile full of white teeth. Her moon face looked nice. But I had no idea. That first night was just shock.

In the coming weeks, I would learn she was in there for breaching a visa. She had a student visa, and worked in a hostess bar, talking to older men. She was Chinese, but her Japanese was pretty fluent. Her boyfriend was a wealthy Japanese man, who lived in Roppongi. Roppongi is the Kings Cross of Tokyo. Well, not really, as Sydney is a drop of water in comparison with the ocean-size of Tokyo. It’s known for its bars, hi end stores, and the red light district. There are so many red light districts in Tokyo, its hard to know where they all are, but Roppongi definitely has one.

I remember my friend Nathan, who was from Sydney and lived in Shanghai with me. Well he was there first. He went out to a club one night with a bunch of guys. He got separated from his friends which wasn’t all that unusual, but when the night ended with him waking up in a park outside with no memory and a bunch of receipts in his coat pocket, he knew he’d been scammed. They drugged him, and took him to a series of bars, and charged his credit card, AU$5,000 worth.

They give you the receipts, so it seems legit, and most of the time the guys don’t contest it, because they’re embarrassed, but there was no way I was letting them get away with it.

He rang up his bank in Australia to lodge the fraudulent charges on his card. It took about six months to reverse, but he won in the end.

She said that they were engaged, and as soon as she got out they would get married. Every time he came to visit her, she would get new magazines to read. Thick fashion magazines, she’d flip through. She’d just been given new magazines and she was flipping through the new pages. You were allowed three books at any one time, plus a dictionary. She had her three magazines. She was on a page reviewing make up brands and lipstick colours. If you knew the old me, you’d know that red is my signature colour. I love red lippy and it loves me. I always look good in it. She tapped on the page and asked if I liked that colour.

Kore, suki desuka?

It was a pinky colour, and not something I’d normally go for. I shrugged and said it was alright.

Mama.

4845 and I were intrigued, we edged a little closer to her, but still maintaining our distance. We weren’t allowed to be too close to each other. She tapped on another page with more colours.

Kore-wa?

Hmm, chotto suki desu. Aka-no daisuki desu.

I explained red was my look. In no time she was flipping through pages and we were talking about our best looks and styles. In a way, we so easily jumped into conversation as a way to ignore the current setting. I enjoyed that universally through any country, language, or situation, women will always be women and find something to talk about. For a split second it was like we were friends just catching up talking about makeup tips. The three of us were all seated around her magazine laughing. I hadn’t felt so close to another person in so long, despite speaking in another language and talking about trivial things. It was just a moment of comfort. I tried to savour it, but it quickly vanished.

Da-me! Issho ni hon o yomu koto wa dekimasen!

You cannot read that book together, she barked and tapped at the bars. We each were given a penalty. I wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but I knew that I didn’t want to rack up points for bad behaviour. Just like that the room was silent and we each moved away from each other, all just looking down. Every now and then we’d give each other a look, like you would when being scolded in school, mocking the teacher. We’d have to keep it down.

My hair was still wet after returning to the room from the showers. We were one of the last groups to return back, and so the breakfast routine was rushed. The tatami mat was shoved through the bars. We obediently laid it down in order to receive the bento boxes and chopsticks. It would be the same thing we would get served every day. A bento with rice, pickles and croquette. I hate croquettes. Sometimes we’d get served meat ones, I would pick at, but generally it was always stale mash croquettes. We could choose from miso soup, one serving, hot tea, one serving, and hot water, unlimited. The drinks would be poured into small plastic bowls, they could be passed through the bars.

Like I said. Today was not a good day. I had been yelled at for taking too long in the shower, and when we entered the outside room where we could brush our hair and clip nails, it was freezing. It had been snowing outside. I was rushed from room to room to room, still half asleep. I was fighting back tears as I sat down at the tatami mat. She called out for the drink orders. With the others I called for miso soup. We placed our bowls on the ledge, she emptied the powder into each and poured the hot water. The bentos were distributed and I just sat mine at my knees, knowing what would be inside, not wanting to take the lid off. I drank my soup and placed the bowl back on the ledge.

Ocha.

I want tea. It was rude of me, I didn’t say please.

Ocha, ku-da-sai.

She called back making a point for me to ask for tea with manners. It was the same women who gave us that penalty the weeks before. Some of them were mean, some of them were nice. Unlucky for me, she wasn’t one of the nice ones. She filled my bowl up and I took it and drank. I opened my bento box and picked at the rice. I couldn’t stomach it. I tried to eat some of the pickles but turned back to my tea. I placed the bowl back on the ledge.

O mizu kudasai.

Hot water please. She grunted at me for saying please and filled my cup. Tears were splashing in my bowl as I drank. I tried to cover my face, I didn’t want anyone to see that I was upset, but there wasn’t anywhere to hide. The other girls offered support.

Ganbare!

You can do it! Try your best, they said. I finished my bowl, and dabbed at my face with my face towel. I closed my bento and placed it back on the ledge with my bowl. I couldn’t eat anything.

I’m finished.

She opened the lid and sees that I had barely touched anything and launches into a rage. She yells at me for not eating and being rude. She calls me a spoilt foreigner and that I should eat what I’m given. She tells me that she is going to write me up and she will go get the form for me to sign with my fingerprint. She snaps the lid close and walks off. The other girls try to console me. It’ll be alright, don’t show emotion, keep it together, they say. I try my best, but my face is all wet. Breakfast is packed away, and the mat is fed back through the bars. She returns with the form and gestures for me to come closer. She explains that I hadn’t had anything and that’s why I was getting written up. Something inside me snapped.

That’s not true! I had miso soup, hot tea and two bowls of water! I ate some rice and pickles! I cannot eat! I don’t eat breakfast, but I tried my best!

I’m explaining in broken Japanese because I am filled with emotion it’s hard to articulate the right words. Another guard walks past. She hears my explanation and pulls her aside. She tells her that since I had soup and tea and water and had made an effort with the food, this was fine, and that she couldn’t write me up. I try to see the look on her face, but I don’t dare look up. She rips the paper and walks off. I glance up. The other guard smiles at me and walks in the other direction. I am left kneeling at the front of the room in shock. The other girls slowly come up to me and pat me on my back.

Omedetou!

Congratulations, you won that one! They all say. I let out a little sigh. I stuck up for myself. It was still a victory despite being a small one. I let a slight smile appear. It hangs around just for a moment. I wearily look up at the clock.

Seven forty-two.

It was going to be a long day.