You've lost sense on dates. You've stopped counting days for awhile now. Everyday was just another waking up to the same hot unforgiving sun, and every night was just another night to go through. There was nothing very meaningful anymore.

Food came, sparsely. It seemed that food was being brought to the city from somewhere else. There was no sign of kitchen anywhere. The ration was meager, the quality nauseating. At first you didn't want to touch it, but then common sense got the better of you. You were hungry, there was nothing else but that daily porridge-like stuff that didn't have any meat or anything in it. It was just enough to keep you alive till the next day. Sometimes they didn't give anything except water, you suspected that they haven't successfully manage the delivery time yet.

Most of the prisoners have gotten one or more sickness, diarrhea, vomiting, dehydration, the kind you would expect under similar circumstances anywhere. Within just around a week you think, everyone was visibly weakened and thinner.

The guards ate the same thing, surprisingly the enemies didn't take better care for their soldiers. The only difference was that they ate more. They didn't get much weaker than you though, and they rotate the guards every week or so. Sometimes you get familiar faces, and sometimes there are new ones. Perhaps they re-nourish the soldiers when they go some other places.

The guards all looked similar to you, cropped hair almost bald, tanned, peculiar suspicious eyes, with rather large noses. Mostly they carry automatic guns that looked heavy and mean, and some have revolvers stuck on their waists. Some were visibly meaner than others, prodding people to move with their guns, occasional punching if they don't like the look you give them. After awhile, the prisoners noticed the signs to avoid, those with wild eyes, the ones that wanted to just vent out their anger at life to you if you are at the 'right' place and 'time'. You also notice that most of them were confused about you and the rest of the prisoners, it's like they considered you something of a mystery, people who doesn't have the same inner workings of the brain. They feel that they were born different, as if you didn't live on the same soil, didn't have the same values. Well you were beginning to doubt if they have values after all.

It's in their accusing eyes, looking at you as if you've done something to them personally. Hatred that was seeded from fear. 'Fear that seeded from where?' you pondered. But does it matter? By their looks they have something planned for all of you and it's not something good.

Enough about them, you looked over your family. Your dad grew gruff unkempt beard just like every other adult men there;sometimes you can't quite recognize him with it, your mother quiet and in despair stripped of any sense of security, your grandmother who each day seemed to turn for the worse, your brother who sometimes asked for trouble with the guards and was looking for more as you look at him.

Your brother was singing a new made song, a song based on the guards, mocking them whenever they march by.

Look at the army
An army of pigs
O' marching by
O' tumbling by

With fat bellies
and sour smellies
O' How I long
my bacon of thee

The song continues with new words being improvised, calling them cowards with guns, how delicious they would be as sausages and whatevers, and their farts that can blow people to pieces like hand grenade. Soon it got offensive enough one guard came buy and shouted at your brother to shut up. The guard was large built, with muscle strengths not to be dismissed, he was one of those wild eyed and it was the right time and person. Your brother kept singing, even slightly louder. Everyone tensed just before it happened, your mother called your brother to stop provoking the guard even though she knew he wouldn't listen.

The guard swung the weight of his gun straight at your brother's face, blood spurted out of his mouth and nose. Your brother cursed and fell back. Not satisfied, the guard jabbed the gun to his ribs, and the curses went louder. You ran to him, holding him back and dragging him away, giving excuses as fast as you can. Like the coward you were.

The guard bent down and picked up the ukulele from the ground where it was thrown off. He smiled and strum the strings. Your brother screamed, 'Get away from my stuff you bastard!'

The guard smiled again, not the warm kind. He strum it again and pulled the strings apart one by one, enjoying the process. Your brother went wild, you put your weight on top of him and even then it was hard to keep him down. Your father pinned him down and whispered,'Let it go, let it go. It's not worth it.'

'Damn YOU! DAMN YOU TO HELL!' and other curses you didn't care to remember.

Still not satisfied, the guard hit the ukulele to the ground with full power, breaking it into two and turned his back chuckling. As the ukulele piece flew, your brother slumped staring at it like a bloodied corpse. You felt the fight disappear instantly from his body. Exhausted, you sat upright and took a look at your brother's bleeding face.His nose was broken, his lips torn perhaps some of his teeth were crooked or even gone you couldn't tell from the mess yet.

Your father took the pieces that flew apart and brought it to your brother, your mother immediately fussed around wiping the blood with a shirt. You wanted to shout at his stupidity, wanted to slap him yourself for being such a show off for nothing. But it was his eyes that caught your breath and stopped you. He didn't show any signs that he noticed his broken nose, or that he was in any physical injuries. It wasn't comparable with what and how he feels, there was so much more.

You didn't know the stupid guitar thing would mean so much for someone like him, you didn't know someone like him could be stupid enough to hold an affection towards an instrument. You didn't know much about him at all, apparently. And now you can only feel guilty for stopping him from trying to save the most important thing in his life.

Oh, and you took back what you said about there was nothing very meaningful anymore, at least from that day on. Meaningful had another definition. It is every day that you will remember your whole life, because what they did to you, to your body, to your mind, to everything that was important to you and everyone you care for. It is every gesture done you promise you won't forget.