Guantánamo Diary by Mohamedou Ould Slahi, Larry Siems Page A

neither liberty nor safety.”
    All of us wanted to make up for months of forced silence, we wanted to get every anger and agony off our chests, and we listened to each other’s amazing stories for the next thirty days to come, which was our time in ■■■■■■■ Block. When we later got transferred to a different block, many fellow detainees cried for being separated from their new friends. I cried, too.
    ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ escort team showed up at my cell.
    “ ■■■■■■■■■■■ !” said one of the MPs, holding the long chains in his hands. ■■■■■■■■■■■ is the code word for being taken to interrogation. * Although I didn’t understand where I was going, I prudently followed their orders until they delivered me to the interrogator. His name was ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ wearing a U.S. Army uniform. He is an ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ , a man with all the paradoxes you may imagine. He spoke Arabic decently, with a ■■■■■■■■■ accent; you could tell he grew up among ■■■■■■■■■■■ friends. †
    I was terrified when I stepped into the room in ■■■■■■■■■■ building because of the CamelBak on ■■■■■■■■■■ back, from which he was sipping. I never saw a thing like that before. I thought it was a kind of tool to hook on me as a part of my interrogation. I really don’t know why I was scared, but the fact that I never saw ■■■■■■■■■■ nor his CamelBak, nor did I expect an Army guy, all these factors contributed to my fear.
    The older gentleman who interrogated me the night before entered the room with some candies and introduced ■■■■■■■■■■■■ to me, “I chose ■■■■■■■■■■ because he speaks your language. We’re going to ask you detailed questions about you ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ . As to me, I am going to leave soon, but my replacement will take care of you. See you later.” He stepped out of the room leaving me and ■■■■■■■■■■ to work.
    ■■■■■■■■■■■ was a friendly guy. He was ■■■■■■■■■■ in the U.S. Army who believed himself to be lucky in life. ■■■■■■■■■■ wanted me to repeat to him my whole story, which I’ve been repeating for the last three years over and over. I got used to interrogators asking me the same things. Before the interrogator even moved his lips I knew his questions, and as soon as he or she started to talk, I turned my “tape” on. Butwhen I came to the part about Jordan, ■■■■■■■■■ felt very sorry!
    “Those countries don’t respect human rights. They even torture people,” he said. I was comforted: if ■■■■■■■■■ criticized cruel interrogation methods, it meant that the Americans wouldn’t do something like that. Yes, they were not exactly following the law in Bagram, but that was in Afghanistan, and now we are in a U.S. controlled territory.
    After ■■■■■■■■■■ finished his interrogation, he sent me back and promised to come back should new questions arise. During the session with ■■■■■■■■■■ , I asked him to use the bathroom. “No. 1 or No. 2?” he asked. It was the first time I heard the human private business coded in numbers. In the countries I’ve been in, it isn’t customary to ask people about their intention in the bathroom, nor do they have a code.
    I never saw ■■■■■■■■■■ in an interrogation again. The ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ resumed his work a couple of days later, only the ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ was now reinforced with