Prison was wanting to breathe when somebody else had a finger up your nose. —Norman Mailer, The Executioner’s Song   Rabia Sheikh’s* eyes were swollen, her ears wouldn’t stop ringing, and her children were driving her mad. The last few days in police custody had been brutal. As she climbed out of the police van, she held ten-month-old Lara firmly on her hip and grabbed hold of Amir who was three. Rahim, the elder of the two brothers walked a few steps ahead. With the f