"We planted a garden. We have some small plants -- watermelon, peppers, garlic, cantaloupe. No fruit yet. There's a lemon tree about two inches tall, though it's not doing well."
"The guards gave you tools?"
He shook his head.
"Then -- how do you dig?" I was struggling to grasp this.
"Spoons," he said. "And a mop handle."
The soil in Camp Iguana is dry and brittle as flint. And I've seen the spoons they give our clients.
"But the spoons are plastic -- aren't they?"
Saddiq nodded. "At night we poured water on the ground. In the morning, we pounded it with the mop handle and scratched it with the spoons. You can loosen about this much." He held his thumb and forefinger about a half-inch apart. "The next day, we did it again. And so on until we had a bed for planting." He shrugged. "We have lots of time, here."
"But the seeds?" I asked. "Did they give you seeds?"
After four years at Guantanamo, Saddiq rarely smiles, but his face seemed to brighten then. "Sometimes, with the meal, they give us a bit of watermelon or cantaloupe to eat. We save the seeds."
Thursday, April 27
Innocent In Gitmo
What do innocent prisoners in Gitmo do to kill time? The military refused to give the men a garden, they can't go home, but the human spirit prevails. From Wilting Dreams At Gitmo- WaPo