Mansour Omari

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What I Smuggled From a Syrian Prison

“The colonel told me he wouldn’t accuse me of gun possession,” my cellmate Nabil Shurbaji told me happily one evening in June 2012. We were sitting in a dark, damp corner, in our torn clothes. Our bodies were covered with blisters and open wounds. Some were caused by daily beatings and electric shocks, some by scabies. Bed bugs swarmed over everything.

We cleaned our bodies and clothes twice a day, under a faint lamp. We took turns, in groups of four or five, but there were always more bugs. They were among our worst nightmares, in addition to the jailers above us.…  Seguir leyendo »