- Aug 4, 2009
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Gitmo inmate My treatment shames U.S. flag - CNN.com
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The cell door opens. The next session, seemingly the 100th in a row. I think my first period of interrogation lasted three full months. Two teams of interrogators running shifts, day and night.
Each session begins with shouting, to wake me up. Then they hit me on the face and the back. I am so desperate for sleep, my head is swimming. There are photographs of faces stuck all around the walls of this room. They demand that I identify the individuals, but I can barely focus to see if I might know them.
They throw food on the floor of the room and tell me to eat like a pig. They won't let me go to the restroom. They watch as it gets more painful, and laugh as they get the translator to describe how they will rape me if I pee in my pants.
The freezing cold cell. The cell door opens. They make me stand and salute the American flag.
I'm in a sort of cinema room, where I have to watch videos of other prisoners being abused. Then they tell me that I have to dance for them, and run in circles whilst they pull on my chains. Every time I try and refuse, they touch me in my most private areas.
Now it's the pornography room. Awful pictures everywhere. There is one with a man and a donkey. I'm stripped naked and have my beard shaved, in a gratuitous insult to my religion. I'm shown pornographic pictures of women. I'm told to make the noises of different animals, and when I refuse, they just hit me. It ends with them pouring cold water all over me.
Hours later in my cell, I am discovered, nearly frozen. The doctor tells them to bring me urgently to the clinic, where I am given a blanket and treatment. Over the next hours, they observe me as I warm up. They are just waiting for the moment that they can sign off on my return to interrogation
Four years ago, six U.S. government security agencies sat together and reviewed my case. Their conclusion? That I was innocent of any crime and should be released. The dirty and sadistic methods I endured -- which were then taken directly to Abu Ghraib -- achieved nothing, except to shame that American flag hanging in the prison corridor, which I was made to salute.
.
The cell door opens. The next session, seemingly the 100th in a row. I think my first period of interrogation lasted three full months. Two teams of interrogators running shifts, day and night.
Each session begins with shouting, to wake me up. Then they hit me on the face and the back. I am so desperate for sleep, my head is swimming. There are photographs of faces stuck all around the walls of this room. They demand that I identify the individuals, but I can barely focus to see if I might know them.
They throw food on the floor of the room and tell me to eat like a pig. They won't let me go to the restroom. They watch as it gets more painful, and laugh as they get the translator to describe how they will rape me if I pee in my pants.
The freezing cold cell. The cell door opens. They make me stand and salute the American flag.
I'm in a sort of cinema room, where I have to watch videos of other prisoners being abused. Then they tell me that I have to dance for them, and run in circles whilst they pull on my chains. Every time I try and refuse, they touch me in my most private areas.
Now it's the pornography room. Awful pictures everywhere. There is one with a man and a donkey. I'm stripped naked and have my beard shaved, in a gratuitous insult to my religion. I'm shown pornographic pictures of women. I'm told to make the noises of different animals, and when I refuse, they just hit me. It ends with them pouring cold water all over me.
Hours later in my cell, I am discovered, nearly frozen. The doctor tells them to bring me urgently to the clinic, where I am given a blanket and treatment. Over the next hours, they observe me as I warm up. They are just waiting for the moment that they can sign off on my return to interrogation
Four years ago, six U.S. government security agencies sat together and reviewed my case. Their conclusion? That I was innocent of any crime and should be released. The dirty and sadistic methods I endured -- which were then taken directly to Abu Ghraib -- achieved nothing, except to shame that American flag hanging in the prison corridor, which I was made to salute.
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