The Musings of a Hunger Striker

Sitting here on my 17th day of a hunger strike, in protest of the inhumane and torturous treatment of our confinement in the Security Housing Units (SHU) of Pelican Bay State Prison, my heart races at 126 beats per minute – at rest! Am I going to have a heart attack? Am I mad for risking my health – my life! – or am I just fed up with having spent 25 years in SHU for non-disciplinary reasons?

My mind is racing just as fast, if not faster, as my heart. A fog has settled in on my thoughts. Everything seems hazy and I’m not sure if I’m even thinking logically anymore.

This morning I was dozing in and out of a dream. I usually don’t remember my dreams anymore, so I’m not even sure if I was actually dreaming or if I was awake, just thinking in the fog. But this is what I remember:

I was in this big ol’ boat, along with a whole lot of other guys, and we were rowing this boat. It was hard work (and maybe that’s what got my heart pumping so hard!), and if any of us slowed down or fell out of sync, these overseers would come over and whip us something awful, so we all had an incentive to keep rowing.

Then an old man, a few rows in front of me, stopped rowing. He started to sway, from side to side, as the overseers whipped him. Regardless of the pain, the old man just continued to sway, from side to side, from side to side, and all he would say is “rock.” Everyone thought the guy was mad, that he had lost his mind or something. Then another guy, a few rows back, threw his oar down and began to sway the same way as the old man. Everyone was confused. Then a few more people started throwing down their oars and swaying in sync to each other. Nothing was said except, “rock!” The boat started to sway, just a little, from side to side, and the overseers were frantic to stop the swaying. They were whipping guys viciously, but no one would pick up the oars. In fact, more and more people were refusing to row now and the boat was dangerously close to capsizing. The overseers were terrified and all that was heard was “rock!” The oars with the words “industries,” “shirt factory,” “wood products,” “shoe factory,” “dairy,” “kitchen workers,” “cooks” engraved into them were all just laying there, idle, and we told the overseers, “you want this boat rowed, then you do the rowing!”

About this time, I either woke up or I snapped out of the fog I was in. My heart was racing. Am I mad? Is that really such a crazy thought? Or is it the most sanest, common sense thing that should have taken place years ago?

I thought about this as I drank my tea and the COs passed out breakfast. “Are you gonna eat?” the CO asked. “No” I replied, and with my heart still racing I thought to myself, crazy or not, I say “let’s rock!”