Jail in China Part 2/2 (2018)

So, where did we leave off? Oh yeah. China. Police. Jail. Fear. All that stuff...

My colleague Mr. B and I were summoned to the local police station the following day after our massive marketing event for the yoga studio. In the evening before our mandatory meeting at the police station, I was seriously considering ditching everything and taking a last-minute flight to get the hell out of dodge. I didn't want to stick around to find out what the police had to say to us. I knew I was in the "wrong" and I didn't have any desire to know how they felt about that. Mr. B and I looked at flights and talked about where we would fly to next. I was scared. In reality, I didn't feel like teaching Yoga on a tourist visa was a big deal, but I knew that the Chinese government doesn't like to be messed with. Maybe it wasn't a problem to me, but that didn't mean they felt the same way. Plus, sometimes governments use people as lessons to others. I didn't want to be one of those lessons. I was completely paranoid. We told our boss that we were considering taking a flight to flee, but he calmed us down, saying it wasn't a big deal. Easy for him to say, we were the ones facing the consequences...

We showed up at the police station the following morning. Our boss was chain-smoking cigarettes and was obviously nervous. He was short on words but he did tell us this: "No matter what they say to you, tell the police that you are volunteering for my company and that you never received any money from me." In other words, deny, deny, deny. He repeated this to us many times. He did most of the talking because of the language barrier, but at one point they took each of us into individual rooms for interrogation. The police had hired a high school student who acted as our translator. Yes, I was scared, but at the same time, the whole situation was hilarious. The high school student was so hyped and excited to meet foreigners that he couldn't help but ask us questions that were completely irrelevant to the situation, wanting to know about our lives. At one point, he wanted a selfie with us right in front of the guards who were questioning us. I was like, "Man, I will take a selfie with you when I'm free to go, but this is the worst moment ever!" Anyways. It was just like the movies. An empty room. A table. Two chairs on one side and one chair on the other (for me). The questioning began.

First, they pulled up aerial photos of me teaching from the big event. They slid these on the table in front of my eyes. "Is this you?". Obviously, it was. Next question: "What are you doing on the stage?". I then proceeded to explain to them what Yoga is (which is not exactly a simple thing to answer) and that I was teaching it on the stage. Before I knew it, I was explaining to them meditation, the value of asanas, and why I was happy to be teaching this knowledge for free. I emphasized the "for free" part...but then things got weird. Instead of them focusing on the money aspect of the situation. They started to feel that perhaps I was someone who was spreading propaganda or some form of religion. That maybe these concepts of yoga weren't exactly what the government would want its people to have put in their heads. When they said that, I had an "Oh, fuck" moment. I could deny, deny, deny that I was getting paid. But I couldn't deny that I was teaching Yoga and spreading these ideas. After all, in my long dramatic monologue about the benefits of Yoga and what it is, I had just said that I was spreading these things. To them, it was potentially problematic propaganda.

I was a complete idiot in my interrogation. In my efforts to defend myself, I showed the police my Instagram to prove to them that I was, in fact, traveling the world as a Yoga teacher and that what I was doing here was no different than what I was doing elsewhere. It seemed like a good idea until the high school translator reminded me that Instagram and Facebook were illegal in this country. I already knew this but had forgotten in the chaos of my nerves. Another stupid mistake made by me. Thankfully, they willfulIy ignored that this happened. I was beginning to think that my stupidity might actually be what saves me. Maybe they'd see how clueless I really was and wouldn't perceive me as any serious threat. Anyways, the police were happy to remind me that anyone who was caught working illegally for the amount of time that we were in China (about 8 months) would be punished by 3 months in jail and would have to pay a huge fine. My emotions were swaying from one end of the spectrum to the other. Yes, I was scared. Mr. B and I both were. On the same note though, I felt ALIVE. If I managed to get out of this unscathed, I'd have a story to tell for the rest of my life. In my eyes, a good story triumphs all (well...mostly all).

After our individual interrogations, Mr. B and I were put in a holding cell for many hours along with other people who were being processed. Upon having a bit of space to talk without the guards listening, I asked Mr. B, "Did you deny everything?". He said, "Oh yeah dude. I told them I'm just here to spread the beautiful practice of Yoga for free". Good. We both had told them the same story. If we were going to spend time in jail, we would go down together. No doubt about that. That gave me a big sense of peace. At least we had each other. 

During our hours of holding, we had to do many different things. First we were tested for drugs. We had to pee in a cup and then squat down while a guard took a picture of us holding our urine-filled cup. I couldn't understand why we needed to squat in this specific way. I felt like a hunter who was proudly showing his prized kill or something. Yet it was just a cup my own fear filled urine. I couldn't help but laugh when it was my turn. Plus, Mr. B was making jokes the whole time. The guard made me retake my picture saying (via the translator) that smiling wasn't allowed. I used all my power in order not to laugh. Next, we had to take out the SIM cards from our phones so that the police could download all of our messages and info. In some moments before we handed over our SIM cards, Mr. B and I managed to delete all of our photos, messages, and evidence of what we were doing. On my phone I had conversations with my boss discussing money, trips to Taiwan to renew my tourist visa, all the teaching I'd been doing - everything. Although I'm not sure if this can or can't be seen on SIM cards after deletion, I deleted everything just in case it would save me. Mr. B was wiser than me and told the guards that he doesn't use a phone and therefore had no SIM card to give them. They couldn't believe this but he insisted that he prefers to use as little technology as possible so that he can remain more aware and conscious of the "now" moment (which was half true). They pushed and pushed him but he remained firm in his story and didn't have to hand over anything. Well played Mr. B!

The last thing we had to do as part of us being processed into the Chinese jailing system was to have our blood drawn. I had already accepted that we didn't really have any rights or grounds to resist. This was China. We had to play by their rules. However, Mr. B didn't give a fuck. Upon seeing the preparation of the needles, Mr. B got very angry. He told them that their sanitation practices were terrible and that he wouldn't give blood without them properly sterilizing everything. Mr. B was right. The guy who was preparing the needle didn't wash his hands and wasn't even wearing gloves. I personally never would have had the courage to say anything though. I had already decided to be as easy as possible in the hopes that they'd give us a slap on the wrist and let us go. Mr. B was going to fight until the bitter end. Eventually, the guards obliged to the request of Mr. B. They went and found some gloves and carefully took our blood in a more clean manner. I couldn't believe that Mr.B had the courage (or stupidity?) to fight them on something like this. I even insisted to him, "Dude, what are you doing?". He responded, "You know what's worse than being in a Chinese jail? Being in a Chinese jail with a fucking disease we got from a dirty unsanitized needle!" Touché. Mr. B was older and more mature than me. I think this helped him remain strong and unwavering in this whole situation. I was more weak and wavering.

After all of these procedures, we waited some more...and waited some more. In total, about 12 hours had passed. We had arrived in the early morning and were well into the night by now. Mr. B and I talked so much that we actually forgot about our whole situation and were able to enjoy each other's presence and good conversation. Suddenly, we heard the cling of the keys going into the cell gates and the bars were pulled open (again, just like in the movies). Our boss was on the other side with a smug smile. He said, "Ok - time to go home." We were beyond relieved but hid our happiness and remained calm. We nonchalantly walked out of what we thought was going to be our potential home for some months. Once we had enough space between us and the police station, we asked J-Dog (our boss) how he got us out. Obviously, we were guilty and everyone knew it. He said that he had some cousin who worked for the police force and was able to pull some strings. Of course, he had to pay a superfluous amount of money for the fines, but there would be no jail time involved. I believe that the fines amounted to many thousands of dollars, but J-Dog never gave us a straight answer as to the exact amount. I think he was embarrassed about the whole situation. After all, he always insisted that we would never get into any trouble. Well, he was wrong.

Once we had gone some distance from the police station, the high school boy who was our translator caught up to us from behind. He said, "Can I have that selfie with you now?" We all laughed. Of course, we happily took a selfie with him. You could see from our eyes in the picture of how relieved we were. He was so happy with his picture with the first foreigners he had ever met. I was happy to make him happy despite the insane circumstances. The taxi ride back to our apartment was taken in silence. Everyone was taking in the day and was finally able to relax. I had only a few days until my flight left China and I couldn't have been more ready to leave. China is a vast country with so many different beautiful aspects about it...but going to jail, even if just for a day, really tainted its taste in my mouth. It's the only place I've never had the desire to return to. Some days later, I happily left.

One last thing. Going through the airport on my way out of China was insanely stressful. Why? Because I didn't get paid in full for my 8 months of work until my last few days before I left. And it was all paid in cash. This meant that I was leaving the country with just over 10,000 dollars (which is over the allowed limit when exiting a country) in cash stashed away between Yoga practice manuals in my suitcase. Leaving the country with thousands of dollars in cash from volunteering after just having had this encounter with the police? Yeah, it was a huge red flag. But, I needed this money. It was going to be the way I paid for circus school (if I got in). Getting this money out of the country was my final obstacle. Luckily (I'm a very lucky person), I had befriended a girl at the yoga studio. She had been attending my classes the whole 8 months that I was there. We didn't talk much but were polite to each other. It just so happened that she worked at the airport. It was never my intention for things to work out in this way, but sometimes things come together perfectly! I arrived at the airport and she so sweetly guided me through the whole process of airport security in a VIP sort of manner. She used her badge and scanned me through doors and passageways that were only available to airport employees. She personally escorted me all the way to my gate of departure. Of course, I still had to pass my bag (loaded with cash) through an X-ray machine, but it was all done in a chill manner while my friend and her friend (the person in charge of the X-ray machine) were in the midst of conversation. Maybe I would have been fine without her, but maybe not. Maybe if I had gone through the normal procedure of airport security, I would have been caught with all of my cash. I don't know. Anyways, that girl will never understand how much she saved me that day. I never told her about the cash in my bag. Teaching Yoga was what got me into trouble, but it was also the key to getting me out of it. What a paradox. Is life one big, complicated, existential joke?