by Joy Peters
The mind can recount historical events in great detail, even after many years. This account is so vivid it could have been yesterday.
I was celebrating my upcoming big '40' birthday accompanied by my daughter who was having a gap year before starting university. On an extended holiday, we had planned a short stopover on one of the smaller Emirate States to top up our suntan before moving on to the Maldives, where my husband was to join us for a blissful month of self indulgence.
I so remember the moment a sniffer dog took an interest in the hand luggage being carried by my daughter when we disembarked from the aircraft at the small airport. We were escorted to a room where a search of the bag revealed a small quantity of cannabis. I knew my daughter didn't do drugs. It was probably a combination of Western arrogance and the impetuosity of youth, but we both ended up being charged with offences. Of course we totally denied any wrongdoing and could only presume that the illicit drugs had been planted. Our passports were confiscated and we were bailed pending court appearances. We consulted a local lawyer who agreed to act for us. It was two weeks before the formal court hearing. We were surprised at the formality and efficiency of the proceedings, which although conducted in Arabic, provided a simultaneous English translation via headphones. A jury of eight local residents made up of six men and two women were to decide whether or not to believe our rebuttal of the charges.
At the conclusion of prosecution and defence arguments, the judge summarised the case to the jury and they were sent out to deliberate. In fairness the proceedings appeared to be conducted with absolute integrity and we could not fault anything. We were confident that we would soon be on our way to the Maldives, albeit ten days later than planned.
The jury returned and confirmed to the court that they had reached verdicts on the two charges we each faced. We were then asked to stand in the dock.
The clerk of the court asked the appointed chairman of the jury how they found against me, Amanda Binchy, to the charge of narcotic possession.
"Guilty," came the verdict. And to the charge of perverting the course of justice I was also found guilty.
When asked about the similar charges against my daughter, Scarlet Binchy, the jury spokesman revealed she was also found to be guilty.
The judge then addressed us. "Amanda and Scarlet Binchy, you have both been found guilty of serious charges. I will hear pleas of mitigation from you or your legal advisor before passing sentence in one week's time. However I must advise you that a custodial sentence is likely, so I am remanding you both into custody pending sentence. Take them down."
With this we were taken to separate holding cells within the court building. Handcuffs were applied and we were then taken together in a van to prison. The vehicle stopped inside the first building signed as 'Detention Centre for Juvenile Females' and Scarlet was taken away. We barely had time to say our farewells. The van was then driven a short distance to another building signed 'Women's Prison'. I was ordered out of the vehicle and escorted to a reception facility where my handcuffs were removed.
There then followed the most humiliating experience of my life. I had to strip completely and the reception guards then thoroughly searched me. My hair and mouth were checked. I was required to squat with my knees apart to ensure I was nor concealing anything in my vagina. My back passage was examined. After this I was taken for a cold water shower before being given my uniform which comprised an orange tee shirt, a pair of knickers and orange trousers. I wasn't allowed to wear a bra. A pair of flip flops completed the kit. I was then given a towel, bed roll, toothbrush and a small bar of soap. I later learned that the basic toiletries could be supplemented at the prison shop from wages earned. I was then taken to and locked up in a communal cell with seven other women.
The following day I was inducted into the prison. I was told how to conduct myself. All staff, whatever rank they held, had to be greeted with the 'Namaste' and addressed as Madam or Master. This was clearly designed to underline the subservient position we held as prisoners. I was medically examined and pronounced as being fit for hard labour, although I was not required to undertake anything too arduous during the first week whilst awaiting sentence. I had a meeting of about one hour with my legal adviser but my daughter did not join us. He had a separate meeting with her. As this was after mine, I received no information about her welfare. I had no other contact with the outside world. I was not allowed any visitors or telephone calls. I didn't even know whether my husband was aware of our incarceration.
I later learned that he had been advised via the British Consul but would not be allowed to visit. The British press were apparently tipped off, and several days later the Sunday tabloids ran alarming sub headlines, of which of course we had no knowledge. One newspaper headlined on page four, British Women Face Flogging, whilst another ran the story, Mother and Daughter to be whipped? Although we were totally oblivious to this, my husband, family and friends were understandably extremely worried about our predicament. We had no contact with the British authorities. They were not allowed to visit us although we did learn afterwards that diplomatic efforts were made on our behalf. Trading agreements and no doubt the oil supply complicated their dealings with the Emirate State. The days of Britain making demands were well over.
The week was tedious and the time passed slowly. The food was monotonous and I started to lose weight ... not that it was a problem, under different circumstances I would have welcomed this! The other women were friendly but language was a problem. We got by with sign language. The staff were generally okay but they demanded - and received - total respect and obedience. I'm not sure what the consequences of not obeying them without question would have been but I was sure that I wasn't going to test it. I hated being locked up in that prison and longed for the day I could be reunited with my daughter and family in a different environment.
The week passed and I found myself in reception once more for my scheduled court appearance. I was allowed to change out of the basic prison uniform and wear the clothes I was wearing when first incarcerated. They had been laundered and felt wonderful. It is those little things that mean so much.
I was handcuffed again and taken back to court in the same black vehicle that had deprived me of my liberty a week previously. I was delighted to see my daughter again. Although clearly subdued, she shared the pleasure of us being together again. We were not allowed to talk to one another but our close physical presence and mouthed words were joy indeed.
We were taken up into the court dock where our handcuffs were removed. There was however a strong guard, including armed police ... not that we had any intention of escape.
Headphones on once again, I was ordered to stand up as the judge entered the court room. After being subsequently instructed to sit down I did so and then listened to his judgement. I cannot recall his exact words although there was a subsequent written transcript. He advised that he had carefully listened to our expressed remorse and plea for leniency and took full account of our previous unblemished conduct. However, these were serious offences that called for appropriate punishment. We were then instructed to stand up whilst he delivered his sentence.
"You will each serve a sentence of six months hard labour and receive fifty lashes. Take them down."
Scarlet and I were both in floods of tears, neither of us sure that we would be able to survive the six months in captivity. We didn't really comprehend the element of lashes; no one had intimated or forewarned us about this. We were returned to our respective prisons.
In reception I was required to change back into prison uniform, although this time I was spared the indignity of intimate body searches. I was returned to my cell where my cell mates were generally supportive, even though, like me, had rather expected that I would not be returned to the prison.
The following morning I received a visit from our legal advisor explaining that he had already lodged an appeal against the severity of the sentence and expected that this would be heard within two weeks. He also advised that the British consulate had requested that the Appeal Court hear the appeal as soon as possible. Later that day I was summoned by the 'employment' warden and allocated work as a cleaner in the kitchen. I was soon to learn that scrubbing floors and cleaning cooking utensils was quite arduous work.
Ten days later on Saturday afternoon I was summoned to see the warden in her office. With the help of an interpreter I was informed that I was to receive the first instalment of my lashes the following day at noon. I hadn't given much thought to this as I expected nothing to happen until after my appeal hearing and I was optimistic that this element of my sentence would be revoked. When I asked about this I was told that I was on the list and that the sentence of the court would be carried out - the prison warden had no power to intervene. I was advised that I would receive twenty-five lashes, which was the maximum allowed in one session. The remaining lashes would be inflicted at a later date following a minimum of one week of recovery. I was to be taken to the Healthcare Centre at unlock on Sunday morning to be prepared.
The Warden was able to confirm that Scarlet was also on the list for that day together with another four women. I was told that such punishments are always carried out on Sundays at noon at the city sports and recreation stadium. I was alarmed to learn that this was to be carried out in public in accordance with normal procedure and practice. Many residents, apparently of both sexes, enjoyed the spectacle although officially it was to facilitate justice seen to be done, and to act as a general deterrent for wrongdoing. The rest of Saturday passed by with me in a haze.
My cell mates were aware of my pending punishment; little escaped the prison grapevine and they did their utmost to be supportive and light-hearted to help me through the post lock up period and long night. I was not able to sleep properly and was quietly sobbing for much of the hours of darkness.
In the morning at unlock I was collected by two wardens and taken to the Healthcare Centre. The preparation comprised a medical examination by the duty nurse, an enema - apparently to prevent the likelihood of 'an accident', and a thorough wash under a cold shower. I was then given a short back to front hospital-type gown that had a Velcro fastening at the back. The gown barely covered my bottom when I stood erect, so it didn't take much imagination to describe what was on view when I moved about or inclined even the tiniest bit. Apart from the gown I was naked and bare footed. At eleven thirty I was handcuffed with my wrists together in front of me and was joined by three other women similarly attired and handcuffed.
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