Trapped in the Plantation

Chapter 3 - Steadfast

"Unpack your luggage from the car and fall in line."

I was a bit shocked by the harsh welcome I received coming from a smartly uniformed woman with an extremely aggressive voice. Raised to treat everyone with respect, it was not many times in life I had been greeted in such a manner. I was nervous seeing so many new faces and knowing in a few minutes my relatives would be gone, and I would be on my own. Nevertheless, I accepted the greeting as I tried to get settled.

I was there saying my final goodbyes to my mother in the form of just hand movement. I was too far from them to speak, that and we were under strict command: silence! My mother and cousin entered the vehicle and drove off. I felt like they had left me in the wilderness to die. I then tried to comfort myself as I was not planning on going back home.

It was September 13, 2015, and real-life started on a warm Sunday morning. I journeyed from the hills of Clarendon to Spanish Town, a place called Twickenham Park. I knew that the park of which they spoke would be less than a joyous one. I was decked in a long-sleeve white shirt, a black necktie, and long black pants. I also carried a black suitcase, knowing this was it, no turning back now.

I was assigned room number four, placed in squad four, and then was escorted to the room. "What a coincidence," I pondered for a while wondering if there was significance to the repeated fours, as four is the number of completion. After arriving at my room, I only saw one other person in it. I greeted him and placed my suitcase on one of the beds I saw was empty. We had a brief conversation about where he was from, and then the talking came to a halt. Two more men entered the room and occupied the remaining beds. It was a weird feeling for me; I had to live with three strangers for eight months in a prison-like facility. To add to the feeling of imprisonment, high walls blocked our eyes from seeing even the roadways. Security guards stood sentry at every point of entry and cameras focused in all directions. I was up for any challenge that would take me beyond the walls, as I was already starting to feel the uncomfortable sense of entrapment.

I started hearing news going around that we should meet at the dining area for breakfast, so we must grab our utensils and head there. I followed the signs and the crowd to the dining area. They introduced this room to us as the "Mess Hall." Possessing long tables with chairs surrounding, fancy ceiling fans, and chefs decked in white attire, I thought "Impressive!" But I was also reminded of sheep getting fattened, and we all knew when the sheep got fattened what would happen next. I ate until my belly was as tight as a drum. The food was not bad at all; it changed my mind about the entire training. "Good food, good bed, well, this was life," I said to myself.

I got the shock of my life though when it was time to wash the dishes. I was far back in the line of about 380 recruits just to rinse a plate. I had to learn the art of standing patiently in line even to do the little things. Finally, I washed my dish after about a fifteen-minute wait. In the blink of an eye, I was at a place known as the foyer for the opening ceremony. The environment looked similar to inside the house of parliament, except it was in an open space. It drained me, having done so many activities in so little time. My armpits sweaty and shirt plastered to my body, physical exhaustion was overcoming me. The long-winded speeches from those in charge were the next hurdle to climb. Sleep was knocking on my door because I had been awake since 3 a.m. in order to reach my destination. I felt exhausted and was ready to go home after just a few hours at the training academy. After we were given orders, rules and were told what to expect, I started rethinking if this had been the right choice I made in joining this noble institution. It was the longest I could recall being away from home. I then reflected on the five goats in Clarendon that had given me a hard time after high school, and I decided I would not go back to those evil creatures. I told myself I would make it even through the rough days. I came to become a law enforcement officer and I would go back home as one. I could not disappoint my family and my community by going home as a police dropout.

The day was slowly but surely ending. I felt like I was there for a year already. Eventually, I was introduced to my instructors and squadmates. I had also taken a small tour of the compound to see the layout. I was excited but at the same time worried if I could manage all that was going to be expected of me. I stood my ground and remained mentally firm; they would not see me as the weakest link of the chain.

The skies were overcast, and I felt good as I could finally be dismissed early. Reality soaked in when I entered the small cubicle called the barracks room. Three complete strangers, with little social skills, made for an all-time low in communication. Everyone was minding their own business whilst unpacking. The silent treatment went on for the longest I could remember.

It was about 7:30 p.m., and we were instructed to wear a white T-shirt, black shorts, sneakers, black socks, and move to the basic area. Arriving at the basic area, we had to be in rows with our squads. I was uncomfortable and stressed due to the silence whilst moving into the correct formation. However, it was accomplished, and everyone eventually separated into their respective areas. One person from the squad had to stand in front to represent us. I had never volunteered to be a leader for anything, so thankfully someone stepped forward to perform that responsibility.

"All accounted for and present sir!" he exclaimed in a loud voice with hands outstretched firmly down his sides. This procedure of accountability was called Muster. This procedure also brought another long lecture by a man in a khaki suit. I did not know who he was, and I definitely couldn't keep up with what he was saying. I was so lost, thinking about home, and in a new environment. I only heard the phrase, "It will be training tomorrow at 3 a.m Sharp." "That was too early," I murmured to myself, but I knew it would get real at one point. I was trying to comfort myself by planning how I would wake at 3 a.m. I had usually awoken at 7 a.m. when I was home.

They dismissed us to go back to our rooms to get prepared for the next morning and lights out we were told were at 10 p.m. I was homesick with just one entire day away from home. Can you imagine the feeling? I took out my attire for the morning activity and went to brush my teeth so I could retire for the night. All lights were now out and my roommates were under their sheets on their cell phones. That was it for me, the day was ending. I was on the small bed with my feet hanging off the end, over thinking all the negative possibilities of my decision. The small bed reminded me of Clarendon in the one-bedroom house in which I lived. It seems I had been practicing all my life growing up to sleep on a small bed. I did not know what was ahead, but I was resetting my mind to take on any challenges that came my way.

I picked up my cell phone and was greeted with a message from mother that lifted my spirits. She was reminding me to keep focused and that I could do anything I set my mind to. I was now getting messages from everyone else that knew I was in training. I smiled, knowing that everyone was supporting and motivating me to continue my progress. Even though I wasn't sure how training would end, I now felt like I could conquer the world. This sent me off to sleep with a great spirit, eager for the upcoming day. The discipline I learned, to wake up early to take out the soaking wet mattress, was about to get tested.