Vacation adventure continues to the Al Wathba Resort
Vacation adventure continues to the Al Wathba Resort
“Will they stop for Burger Kings?” I asked my fellow prisoner. “I would like a Whopper, French fries and a milk shake or a Coke.” He smiled almost laughed.
We were riding in the back of the prison transport vehicle like we had ridden in to the central court building the week before and I had ridden in from the RECEPTION building with the black hood over my head the week before and then to the Kahlifa Jail in the middle of the night on the 22nd.
Both of us were wearing handcuffs on our wrists and shackles on our ankles. The handcuffs were uncomfortable. The shackles caused razor sharp cutting pain still. I had not learned how to move my feet or legs and not cause pain every time I moved with them on my ankles yet.
The transport vehicle was the size of a small SUV. The driver’s and one passenger front compartment was separated by glass, perhaps bullet proof or riot proof glass and a cage made of heavy duty rods both vertical and horizontal. The inside of the prisoner section had 2 or 3 rows of naughahyde bench like seats with enough space for 6 or 7 prisoners to sit and a narrow passage area on the right side for getting in or out from the sliding door on the side of the vehicle.
We were riding in the back of the prison transport vehicle like we had ridden in to the central court building the week before and I had ridden in from the RECEPTION building with the black hood over my head the week before and then to the Kahlifa Jail in the middle of the night on the 22nd.
Both of us were wearing handcuffs on our wrists and shackles on our ankles. The handcuffs were uncomfortable. The shackles caused razor sharp cutting pain still. I had not learned how to move my feet or legs and not cause pain every time I moved with them on my ankles yet.
The transport vehicle was the size of a small SUV. The driver’s and one passenger front compartment was separated by glass, perhaps bullet proof or riot proof glass and a cage made of heavy duty rods both vertical and horizontal. The inside of the prisoner section had 2 or 3 rows of naughahyde bench like seats with enough space for 6 or 7 prisoners to sit and a narrow passage area on the right side for getting in or out from the sliding door on the side of the vehicle.
“I would prefer a larger chauffeured vehicle with a bar and tv in the back.” Once again my smart ass nature tried to get my fellow prisoner, limo passenger to smile or laugh to break the tension of the ride.
Neither of us knew where we were being taken this trip.
We had been to the prosecutor’s office a week before. Rumor like ideas from other passengers and other guards implied like we might be taken somewhere to release us, to set us free finally. Neither our driver, a police officer nor his passenger, co-delivery man in his white robe and head piece spoke English except for him who seemed to enjoy turning around, give us a BIG smile, stick his thumb up and say “OKAY” of “EVERYTHING OKAY”? I grew to hate that habit that the men in white seemed to have with prisoners when they couldn’t speak English.
I can’t remember my fellow prisoner’s Arabian name. He and I had spoken a few times in the common area of the jail block during the past 7 or 8 days and maybe once or twice in the common cell, that we both ended up in that could hold as many as 12 prisoners in two level bunks. He had told me he was Egyptian. I hadn’t developed my expanding interviewing habits yet of asking more personal questions beyond the standard ones other prisoners asked me:
“Where you from?”
“What your crime?”
I believe he had told me he was from Cairo and had been working in Abu Dhabi for a couple years. His crime was that he supposedly stole some jewelry, his girl friend’s mother’s jewelry. His girl friend and turned him in for it or filed a case against him claiming that he had stolen the jewelry. He told me that she had actually stolen it and had deliberately set him up for her crime.
That’s all I had learned from our short talks during the past week.
He seemed like a friendly and maybe an honest guy. He was very quiet compared to the other 6 to 8 prisoners I had gotten into the habit of talking with.
We were now on an adventure together being taken by our limo drivers, ha ha. Our police driver and his right hand partner in his white robe and head piece. The two of them were quiet most of the ride.
Once we were secure in the back of the caged prisoner transport vehicle the driver steered us out of the parking lot at the entrance to the jail and a the main building it was behind. It seemed to be a complex of buildings.
Based upon Google Maps Aerial photos I have found recently, while preparing to give a speech at the 4th Southern Friend Laughter Conference in Atlanta about how laugher and creative thinking techniques saved me and my sanity while in the jail the past 7 or 8 days during this Vacation Adventure. I believe this aerial photo shows that the jail was located behind the Mussafah Police Station in a complex of buildings in Kahlifa City to the east of Abu Dhabi and the Novotel.
After 3 or 4 turns and passing through a couple security gate locations the driver pulled out onto a 4 lane divided road then onto another and eventually onto a super highway that passed a high rise building that is shaped like a standing circle or disk, standing on its edge with a circular shape instead of the usual rectangular or square of most buildings. When we were taken to the court building to see our various prosecutors were passed that building at least twice. I vaguely remember passing the round shaped building on the night of the 22nd when I was dropped off at the jail in the middle of the night. My night of fear.
Neither of us knew where we were being taken this trip.
We had been to the prosecutor’s office a week before. Rumor like ideas from other passengers and other guards implied like we might be taken somewhere to release us, to set us free finally. Neither our driver, a police officer nor his passenger, co-delivery man in his white robe and head piece spoke English except for him who seemed to enjoy turning around, give us a BIG smile, stick his thumb up and say “OKAY” of “EVERYTHING OKAY”? I grew to hate that habit that the men in white seemed to have with prisoners when they couldn’t speak English.
I can’t remember my fellow prisoner’s Arabian name. He and I had spoken a few times in the common area of the jail block during the past 7 or 8 days and maybe once or twice in the common cell, that we both ended up in that could hold as many as 12 prisoners in two level bunks. He had told me he was Egyptian. I hadn’t developed my expanding interviewing habits yet of asking more personal questions beyond the standard ones other prisoners asked me:
“Where you from?”
“What your crime?”
I believe he had told me he was from Cairo and had been working in Abu Dhabi for a couple years. His crime was that he supposedly stole some jewelry, his girl friend’s mother’s jewelry. His girl friend and turned him in for it or filed a case against him claiming that he had stolen the jewelry. He told me that she had actually stolen it and had deliberately set him up for her crime.
That’s all I had learned from our short talks during the past week.
He seemed like a friendly and maybe an honest guy. He was very quiet compared to the other 6 to 8 prisoners I had gotten into the habit of talking with.
We were now on an adventure together being taken by our limo drivers, ha ha. Our police driver and his right hand partner in his white robe and head piece. The two of them were quiet most of the ride.
Once we were secure in the back of the caged prisoner transport vehicle the driver steered us out of the parking lot at the entrance to the jail and a the main building it was behind. It seemed to be a complex of buildings.
Based upon Google Maps Aerial photos I have found recently, while preparing to give a speech at the 4th Southern Friend Laughter Conference in Atlanta about how laugher and creative thinking techniques saved me and my sanity while in the jail the past 7 or 8 days during this Vacation Adventure. I believe this aerial photo shows that the jail was located behind the Mussafah Police Station in a complex of buildings in Kahlifa City to the east of Abu Dhabi and the Novotel.
After 3 or 4 turns and passing through a couple security gate locations the driver pulled out onto a 4 lane divided road then onto another and eventually onto a super highway that passed a high rise building that is shaped like a standing circle or disk, standing on its edge with a circular shape instead of the usual rectangular or square of most buildings. When we were taken to the court building to see our various prosecutors were passed that building at least twice. I vaguely remember passing the round shaped building on the night of the 22nd when I was dropped off at the jail in the middle of the night. My night of fear.
Except for the standing pie shaped modern office building every other building seemed to be one, two to maybe 4 stories tall, all sand colored stucco or concrete. All very simple, boring box like designs. There were a scattering of palm trees in the dividers of the roads or along side by the sidewalks parallel to them. Occasionally I remember seeing some small planting areas of shrubs or bushes with occasional flowers blooming.
possible aerial photo of the jail location in Kahlifa City.
This may be an aerial view of our trip from the jail to Al Wathba Prison. At least it is what Gooogle Maps produced when I search from a directions map and clicked on the aerial image function.
As you can see the area is mostly desert sand for miles and miles.
I remember the driver making many more turns and travel much farther than this Goolge map implies. Unfortunately all the popcorn I dropped outside of the vehicle with the special phosphorus coated must have blown away before this photo was taken.
The drive was a long one and no doubt seemed longer because I had never been wherever they were taking us. Drives always are much shorter when you have driver them yourself and driven or ridden repeatedly knowing where you are going.
Every so often I made another of my fanciful comments about where we were going or what they were taking us to or for. Obviously they were going to take us for a fast food meal. I did start to fantacize or partially believe that they might be taking us to the airport to deport us and send us home.
My logical brain was sleeping or keeping quiet at the time, only voicing its opinion quietly in my brain occasionally.
We’re not going for a Big Mac or a Whopper!
We’re not going to the airport they didn’t have me load up my 4 pieces of luggage that I was allowed to collect from the Novotel Hotel on the previous Wednesday evening and store in the room with the personal lockers and check in desk.
Where were we going?
That questions continuously bounced around in my brain.
Finally after turning onto 4 or 5 different divided highways heading in continuously different directions, sometimes in the same direction, other times in the opposite directions traveling through cloverleaf exits or entrances from one highway to another.
Then finally we both saw a sign.
Al Wathba prison and a continuous 10 foot or higher wall with barb wire or razor wire on top of it that was surrounding a huge complex of buildings.
Soon we turned into the entrance of the prison passing this gate that I found doing photo image searches on Google.
Here is an aerial Google photo of the prison. I wonder if anyone was arrested for taking it and ended up serving time at the prison?
I have no idea of where the entrance we drove through is located in this photo. I can see where the eventual cell block that became my vacation home for the next 3+ weeks is located or at least narrow down the search to one of four cell block buildings toward the top part of this photo.
After driving into the entrance the driver made several right and left turns until he stopped abruptly in front of the RECEPTION building. Once again that name, RECEPTION had entered my life again.
The police officer, the driver, partially helped each of us get out of the vehicle stepping down on to a small plastic stool, much like the Groome Transporation Van drivers do when I travel to and from the Atlanta Airport from their office located 2 miles from my home in Athens. Each movement of my feet caused cutting pain in my ankles. The handcuffs were also digging into my wrists with each movement.
Once on the pavement we were guided towards the entrance to the Reception Building one painful movement at a time. Gradually I was discovering how to move and cause little to no pain. It would take several trips until I could easily walk with shackles and handcuffs on and not experience pain.
The entrance area of the building was probably 30 by 40 feet with offices or hallways on all four sides. Using a north south axis, we entered the processing area at the southwest corner. At the northeast corner were a row of desks with several officials in uniform with various ranks behind them and a couple short lines of prisoners standing in front of them to be processed.
This may be an aerial view of our trip from the jail to Al Wathba Prison. At least it is what Gooogle Maps produced when I search from a directions map and clicked on the aerial image function.
As you can see the area is mostly desert sand for miles and miles.
I remember the driver making many more turns and travel much farther than this Goolge map implies. Unfortunately all the popcorn I dropped outside of the vehicle with the special phosphorus coated must have blown away before this photo was taken.
The drive was a long one and no doubt seemed longer because I had never been wherever they were taking us. Drives always are much shorter when you have driver them yourself and driven or ridden repeatedly knowing where you are going.
Every so often I made another of my fanciful comments about where we were going or what they were taking us to or for. Obviously they were going to take us for a fast food meal. I did start to fantacize or partially believe that they might be taking us to the airport to deport us and send us home.
My logical brain was sleeping or keeping quiet at the time, only voicing its opinion quietly in my brain occasionally.
We’re not going for a Big Mac or a Whopper!
We’re not going to the airport they didn’t have me load up my 4 pieces of luggage that I was allowed to collect from the Novotel Hotel on the previous Wednesday evening and store in the room with the personal lockers and check in desk.
Where were we going?
That questions continuously bounced around in my brain.
Finally after turning onto 4 or 5 different divided highways heading in continuously different directions, sometimes in the same direction, other times in the opposite directions traveling through cloverleaf exits or entrances from one highway to another.
Then finally we both saw a sign.
Al Wathba prison and a continuous 10 foot or higher wall with barb wire or razor wire on top of it that was surrounding a huge complex of buildings.
Soon we turned into the entrance of the prison passing this gate that I found doing photo image searches on Google.
Here is an aerial Google photo of the prison. I wonder if anyone was arrested for taking it and ended up serving time at the prison?
I have no idea of where the entrance we drove through is located in this photo. I can see where the eventual cell block that became my vacation home for the next 3+ weeks is located or at least narrow down the search to one of four cell block buildings toward the top part of this photo.
After driving into the entrance the driver made several right and left turns until he stopped abruptly in front of the RECEPTION building. Once again that name, RECEPTION had entered my life again.
The police officer, the driver, partially helped each of us get out of the vehicle stepping down on to a small plastic stool, much like the Groome Transporation Van drivers do when I travel to and from the Atlanta Airport from their office located 2 miles from my home in Athens. Each movement of my feet caused cutting pain in my ankles. The handcuffs were also digging into my wrists with each movement.
Once on the pavement we were guided towards the entrance to the Reception Building one painful movement at a time. Gradually I was discovering how to move and cause little to no pain. It would take several trips until I could easily walk with shackles and handcuffs on and not experience pain.
The entrance area of the building was probably 30 by 40 feet with offices or hallways on all four sides. Using a north south axis, we entered the processing area at the southwest corner. At the northeast corner were a row of desks with several officials in uniform with various ranks behind them and a couple short lines of prisoners standing in front of them to be processed.
At least that was my first impression.
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