We were transferred on the first day.
We didn’t know if we were going to be transferred or not.
We found out when someone called the police station.
We found out that we were going to the Qanater prison.
I remember my expectations of that place.
I thought women were beaten up in there like the men.
The first encounter with the people and the administration is when you’re searched.
We were given uniforms to wear that said “prisoner” on the back.
We were taken to what is called the military cell.
It is a big room with no divisions.
It had 5 bunk beds and a bathroom.
You could see the yard from the bathroom window.

The first day was hard. I dreamt that I was back home, but I woke up to find myself in prison.
It startled me.
But I got used to having that dream since I was going to be in there for a while.
The first day was the hardest, but I survived it.
The cell supervisor is a sweet lady.
She seemed to be from a higher class.
She’d been in prison for 10 years.
Prison turned her into a completely different person.
She tried to calm us down by telling us that we’d be getting out soon.

Everyone made fun of me because no one used the title “auntie” in there except for the newcomers.
People usually go for “Ma”—short for mother.
But I refused to use that. I already had a mother.
The important thing is how you deal with the situation you’re in.

We stayed for 3 days in the police station.
Police stations are a lot worse than prisons.
We slept next to the trash in there.
We spent the first night in Masr el-Gedida Police Station.
The second night, we were transferred to a place that couldn’t fit 5 people.
We were 7, and so they transferred us again because we made a fuss.
After spending 2 nights in the police station, I can safely say that it’s a much worse nightmare than prison itself.
We sat down with the commissioner on the first day.
We used to be allowed to have coffee and honey jars, and we used to keep the empty ones.
The search team would throw them away because we weren’t allowed to have anything made of glass in there.
People used it to hurt each other.
They even used pot lids to hit each other.
That’s why we’re only allowed to use plastic utensils now.
Washing the dishes became a nightmare as a result. The smell wouldn’t come out.
We had to find a way around it.
There was too much trash in the cell, much like what we see on the streets.
We would cover it with empty cartons.
We would think of ways to make our living situation bearable, such as our sleeping arrangements.
We never really took any action though.
I was dead tired.
The transport vehicle was also a nightmare.
It was repulsive, depressing, and just plain annoying.
It made me hate going outside to attend my hearings.
Some people find it enjoyable because they get a glimpse of the outside world.
There are some things I don’t remember of my time in prison.
That’s what I remember from the first day.