Black Block Page #3

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"This is like Chile or Argentina".

It was like those images

I'd seen in films.

The police wen all over the stairs,

spitting at us.

One officer on the landing was

hitting people as they went by.

I tried to get up.

I managed to stand up

for a moment,

as they had hit me hard on the head.

They had broken my fingers,

nose and ribs.

My right side was black and blue

with bruising.

And in the emergency room,

I saw Niels again.

He saw me and came over

to my stretcher.

He looked like a zombie,

his face was bruised and swollen

and his eyes were bloodshot.

Lena couldn't speak, she just about

managed to move her arm.

She was making strange sounds,

like groans.

I spoke to her but she didn't reply.

She was in terrible pain.

Then a doctor came

and told me

that he was going to make a cut

under my breast

to insert a tube that would enable

my lungs to breathe.

They had been pierced

by the broken ribs

and they needed to drain the blood.

And I thought:
"That's exactly

what needs to happen now".

Then they took us up to the next floor

in wheelchairs,

where the people

that had been arrested were.

On the door a sign said:

"Crisis station" ,

it was in a closed part

of the hospital, in the basement.

And then the torture started

all over again.

were dragged away

in our wheelchairs...

The "penitentiary police officers"

wen like a gang of Rambos,

with the bullet-proof vests

and all the equipment they had.

They wen muscular like bodybuilders.

And then was this small guy,

in a blue shirt, an ordinary officer,

who was like a dictator. He yelled

at us and slapped us.

Then they took me to another room

where I had to get undressed slowly.

at each item of clothing I removed,

they hit me.

Then I had to do push-ups

and with each push-up, they hit me

and so on until we reached

the bathroom.

In the shower some police officer

intimidated me

and they were excited as if

they wanted to eat me alive.

They surrounded me and shoved me,

yelling at me to hurry up.

They sprayed disinfectant

on my head.

The shower was all red, stained

with the blood from the previous day.

I couldn't see anything anymore.

The guy who was with me

was wearing dam clothes,

he had tattoos and looked like a punk.

So what they did to me was

just a warm-up.

He was beaten by everyone.

They opened up all his wounds again.

He had to clean off his blood

from the tiles.

How can I say... it was a really

unpleasant experience.

The next 24 hours in the hospital bed

wen totally horrific.

expected the wont.

When something like this happens,

you don't know what their limit is.

I woke up and saw an oicer

in front of me, touching his balls

and as he insulted me another oicer

removed the safety catch from his gun.

The guy in the bed next to me had it

worse, they played games with him.

One oicer pretended to shoot him

while another stopped him.

Of course now I know

it was all just an act

but in that situation I believed it.

At first I was unable to work it out.

for years I didn't remember

those scenes after the shower.

It was only when I met the guy

who had been with me again

that I remembered we hadn't

been beaten up again in the hospital

but they had been through

of pure terror.

Basically, a trauma happens because

of an event you cannot understand.

Of course

it's caused by violent situations.

Typical symptoms an insomnia,

recurrent nightmares.

And anxiety too, the sensation

of being in constant danger.

Your adrenaline levels are always up.

And for this reason, you sometimes

become detached from society.

Then I was taken to another room

to be checked over.

There was another doctor there.

He asked me some questions

and made me do some exercises.

He said that if I could walk unaided,

I would be able to leave the hospital.

At a certain point, they took us

outside.

They put us in a police van

and drove off.

After a while we arrived at a sort

of Mussolini style ancient villa.

wen in Bolzaneto,

but nobody told us.

I don't think anyone knew about the

existence of that place until then.

A detention and punishment center

for people

before prison.

They made us get out of the van

and they stood us against the wall.

The police oicers surrounded us,

yelling at us and insulting us.

I was shaking.

The officer who looked like

he was in charge

had a pen in his hand

and he made a cwss on my cheek.

Like we wen cattle.

They were marking us.

I was screaming with pain,

I couldn't even stand up

and so they called

a sort of doctor

or at least that's what they said

even though he had a police uniform.

He touched my back and asked me

when the pain was.

After a while he found my sorest

spot and there was a big bruise there.

He asked me if that was when I felt

pain and I said it was.

And he dropped me

right onto that spot.

I fell to the ground in pain.

The cell stank of rancid blood.

People still had open wounds.

from the cell window

the police officers insulted us

and laughed at us.

Then they took me into another room

to be searched.

There was a table in then

with a police officer behind it,

while the other officers stood

around it.

An officer started searching me,

it was the third time l was searched

but this time was totally dierent

to the previous times.

I had to strip down naked.

The police oicer passed

the metal detector over my clothes.

They saw I was in too much pain,

that I couldn't move properly

so they forced me to do

some e push-ups,

naked, in front of the officers

who were enjoying the scene.

The pain was too much,

I couldn't take it anymore

but I had to continue.

It was obvious that we had no rights

in that place.

We couldn't make any calls

or see a lawyer.

I remember that we asked to

but it was all so surreal.

It was a situation...

a situation in which you knew

you were beyond legal help.

Some people aren't immediately

affected by the trauma endured.

They carry on like before.

Maybe they have the sensation that

then's a before and after.

Life is divided into a before

and an after.

A sensation like: "I stared death

in the face and now it's all changed".

You've lost a part of yourself.

Two days later,

two nights later,

they started to...

all this...

now I know they wen taking me

to prison, but I didn't then.

They put me on a coach

with other expelled girls

and they took us to the prison

in Voghen.

In the prison it was like being

in a hotel.

for the first time

we had a hot meal,

we hadn't had one for a long time.

Then was a TV in the cell

and we saw the first images

on the news.

saw the first demonstrations

and they wen for us.

It was a very emotional moment,

because they carried huge banners

that nad "Diaz..."

In the end you knew that someone

out there was thinking of you.

Of course my brother had heard

about it all in Germany.

It was all very complicated.

My family tried to find information

about my whereabouts.

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