The Painted Man Behind The Dead Walls
I was sent to a place for a painting job. A place called "Dead Walls". Never been in a place that sounded so weird until I got there.
When I arrived in the said place, I was surprised because birds of different kinds are flying around in the sky. They pose as predators eyeing for food on the ground where I was standing. On the contract paper I signed for work, it stated that I am only there to work for thirty days. I will be painting a piece of wall for four weeks but not more than five weeks. I will be given free housing in a small quarter attached to the Dead Walls and two free meals each day. The employer brought a tricycle for me to use other than the three ladders of different sizes. I didn't know that the place where the wall stands is between a concentration camp and a hospital for mentally-ll.patients. The wall is one kilometer long. One side of wall facing the hospital with metallic barrier and barbed wires; the other side of the wall facing the concentration camp guarded by armed sentinels and trained german shepherds. The wall is made of concrete, but with easy-to-open metallic doors -- one hundred meters apart from each door starting from the first door very close to my small quarter.
The fifteen feet high-concrete wall is only a hundred yards away from the fence of the hospital; and by the concentration camp, about five hundred yards. Many trees are standing on the ground between the wall and the concentration camp.
On my first day of work, I said to myself I cannot finish the painting job in one month because the Dead Walls is one kilometer long. I just thought I only need to do my best.
During daytime for two hours, I can see many mental patients of the hospital lingering in their resting area. I can watch them in their activities under the supervision of an attendant. I decided to paint both sides of the wall alternately during the day so I can I see too what's life in the concentration camp, facing the other side of the wall. For twelve hours of painting each day, I was able to finish twenty-five meters in length painting both sides of the wall. So that's four days of work for me to reach each door of the concrete wall.
One late afternoon on my twelfth day of work, an officer with a dog approached and asked me if I have seen a fugitive around. I said, "none." The officer left and I continued painting. Two hours later, another person approached me from behind, a rugged man wearing dirty clothes. I was stunned , thinking he is the one being chased by the camp officer. The man asked why I am painting there. I said I was given a painting job for a month and that's the only reason why I am there. The man said that the wall I'm painting is a cursed wall and a dead wall for the hopeless. He also said that he is the one being chased by the camp guards of the concentration camp. He disclosed he's staying in a small bunkel underneath the ground. Then I asked the man, "Why did you leave the camp?" The man said, "I am Innocent of a crime as charged. I was incarcerated for many years without being heard or tried in a court." I shook my head. The man continued talking, telling his story. After a few minutes, he disappeared. It's getting dark that moment. I decided to go back to my quarter and work again the next day.
The following day, I painted for twelve hours and rested.
One night while resting inside my small quarter, somebody was knocking at the door. It is the same man who talked to me the other day -- the escapee. He asked for some food. I gave him some and immediately left.
After several nights, the man went back to my quarter asking for some food. I asked the man if he can give me a few minutes of his time so I can broadly understand his situation. He told me he doesn't want to go back to the camp to be imprisoned again because there's no justice living in the camp even where there is free food and housing. He missed his family so much, thinking he is already dead. He assumed that his life in the camp as an immigrant is history, like a living dead.
I said there are some other ways to prove his innocence for whatever offense he was charged with.
"How?" the man asked.
"I still have two days of work here. I don't know if I can still go back here to help you..."
The man was saddened after hearing my words. I told him that in the very same place where he was incarcerated is where justice can be served. His honor is not history yet. If he is really innocent of committing a crime, he needs to prove it. Just be patient, I added.
The man asked, "Who else can help me other than you and myself?"
"I will ask for help outside to help you get out of your misery. I hope I can do something for you before I leave this place."
The man's face shone some hope after hearing my last words.
On the day I left the Dead Walls, I went to the nearest embassy with two pieces of paper. One paper is a letter written by the man himself, asking for legal assistance to clear his name in court -- hoping to be free should he be tried in court. The other piece of paper is his letter to his family overseas. He begged me to find his family and hand his letter personally to his wife and children.
I searched his family with the address he gave me and I was able to find them.
The man's case is being examined in court while the man is waiting inside the concentration camp. I told him to surrender himself first before I left the Dead Walls. I want him to stay alive for his family and for himself. And he listened.
After six months, the man was released in the concentration camp and went back home as a free man again... like a painted man behind the Dead Walls, unblemished.
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