The Harsh Reality of Confinement
“Well, this isn’t bad,” Tom White mumbled to himself. He stood in a pitch-black, cold room. He could feel the wind pouring into the room from a vent above the door. Exploring the cell, he found a bed with broken springs, a stinking mattress, and an old wooden chair nailed to the floor. He lay down, but sleep was impossible. It was just too cold. His sleeveless coveralls were made of thin cotton, so they weren’t much help. He wondered how long he could stay alive in this room.
Arrest and Interrogation
Tom White, an American Christian, had made many successful drops of Gospel literature over Cuba, distributing more than 400,000 pieces. But on May 27, 1979, his small plane crash-landed on a Cuban highway, just as he had finished a night drop. He was immediately arrested by the Communists, who questioned him and put him in solitary confinement. Finally the guards put a hood over his head and took him to a little room for more questioning. “It sure is warm today, isn’t it?” the captain taunted, taking off his military jacket to begin the interrogation. “Who do you work for?” “I work for Jesus.” “Oh, is that right? And how much money did this Jesus pay you for making these trips?” “I took these trips for no pay. My pay is the love and blessing that God gives me for obeying Him.”
Most of the captain’s questions centered around money, the CIA, and revolution. These were the only concepts of power that he seemed to understand. After three or four days of cold and little sleep, White was too tired to even follow his train of thought. He sat in front of his interrogator, his head dropping, his thoughts wandering.
“How can I fight this? This could go on forever,” White asked himself. Suddenly he had his answer. He explains:
“The Holy Spirit gave me a measure of pity and compassion for this man who was more in prison than I. I stopped responding to his questions and stared directly into his eyes. ‘Oh, God, help Captain Santos,’ I prayed. ‘Break through, Jesus. He is the one in the cold, for he has never felt the warmth of Your love.’ I continued to pray in front of him like this for hours. His questions came less frequently until he finally stopped.”
“What are you doing?” he demanded. “I’m praying for you.” The captain’s mouth dropped open. He ran one hand back through his hair, then rummaged for a cigarette. This was the first time White had seen him smoke. The prisoner continued to sit rigidly as he was required, looking at Santos and praying.
The captain looked nervously around the room, then started drumming his fingers on the desk. In the next session White was surprised to see him wearing sunglasses. Evidently he didn’t want White to see his eyes. That’s all right. God doesn’t need eye contact. He deals with the heart, White thought, and continued praying.
Santos sent for Major Alvarez. The major was always his last resort. Alvarez stormed into the room, red-faced and angry as usual. “So, you think this is a game?” he screamed, pounding on the desk for emphasis. “Now we are going to send you to see the third foot of the cat.” White remembers, “I was thrown into another room. Following the wall in the blackness, I discovered there was no bed or chair. The blower vent over the door was fully open. The air was pouring out at such a terrific rate that my hair was blown straight out from my head.”
Date: 12th August 2023
Martyr: Tom White
Location: Cuba 1979-1980
Source: Jesus Freaks
Author: DC Talk and Voice of Martyrs
Suffering Saturday 051
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