His fists were clenched almost throughout the entire 30 minutes of questioning. Never once did he look at his interrogators. His helplessness was all the more felt as he could not speak English or Malay and had to constantly look to his Chinese interpreter for help.

Tan Hock Lee, 44, was trying to tell the inquiry panel of the Malaysian Human Rights Commission (Suhakam) how it has been like to be detained under the Internal Security Act since January last year.

He is being held without trial at the Kamunting Detention Centre in Taiping, Perak, not for the 'vogue' reasons of wanting to "topple the government" or trying to "establish an Islamic state via militant means".

The short and stout father of two was arrested in Butterworth, Penang for allegedly forging one ringgit coins in a steel factory where he had worked.

Tan is one of many ISA detainees caught for allegedly committing non-political crimes and then forgotten because they lack the backing of a political party or access to lawyers to challenge their detention.

Facing the three-member Suhakam inquiry panel which convened at the Taiping Prison's Sport Club last week, Tan looked nervous and beads of sweat constantly appeared on his face.

Clad in a pair of slacks and a short sleeved T-shirt, Tan was ushered into a room in the old wooden building and walked straight to the chair he was told to go to.

Though the air-conditioners were not functioning properly, the detainee, whose hair was cropped short, seemed unperturbed by the sweltering heat.

"Selamat pagi, tuan," he said with a slight bow, his manner robotic, like a machine programmed on how to stand, sit and address people.

Solitary confinement

He was in solitary confinement for more than 50 days, all of which he has no memory of.

"How many days were you detained?" the panel questioned.

"I don't know," was the reply.

"Where were you taken?"

"Penang."

"Where in Penang?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know what the ISA is?"

"I don't know, I only know I was sent to Penang," he replied.

"I had no idea whether it was day or night then," he continued.

"Did the authorities mistreat you?"

"No," said Tan. But for the most part he could not remember anything.

An observer at the inquiry, who himself had been an ISA detainee, described Tan as being "not all there".

"I think he has lost touch with the world," said the observer at the conclusion of the first day of the two-day inquiry into the condition of ISA detainees.

Nothing but fear

Tan could not remember anything except for the sense of overwhelming fear in him when he was held under the first 60-day detention period.

Section 73 of the ISA allows the police to detain a suspect for up to 60 days, often in incommunicado.

"We were not making enough money in the steel mill. That was why I was roped into the forgery ring," said Tan, unaware that he could be implicated by his testimony to Suhakam.

He also told the commissioners that there were five others detained with him but then suddenly altered the figure to six.

"Why does he say five one moment and then say that it is six?" asked the confused inquiry chairperson Harun Hashim, who is also Suhakam deputy chairperson.

"He cannot remember," the interpreter said as the detainee scratched his head.

Then for the first time, Tan unclenched his fists and started to count. He counted twice before saying that it was definitely six, among them a woman who is the sole female ISA detainee in Kamunting.

She was held for allegedly forging travel documents.

Panel member and commissioner Asiah Abu Samah then asked him, why can't you remember?

"Because I was extremely afraid when I was being detained," he said.

At one point he did not eat for 15 days due to fear, he said. The only thing that connected him with the outside world then was his investigation officer.

Why can't he remember other things when he can remember the 15 days when he could not eat? asked Asiah again.

He could not answer and began to cry, and rubbed his tear-stained face with his forearm.

Tan reiterated that he could only remember his fear and nothing more, adding that from his cell, he could hear the sounds of fork lifts and grating steel which reminded him of the steel mill he worked for.

No lawyers

He described his cell as a dark place with one window high up.

Sleep did not come easy either as he constantly heard voices in his head and this caused him great anxiety.

Asked if he had met a lawyer, Tan said he had never seen one and then slowly leaned over and asked his interpreter, "What is a lawyer?"

According to the interpreter, the detainee's formal education was only up to standard six in a Chinese school.

"He said he never used to study hard, he would just run off and play football or go fishing," the interpreter revealed.

Asked about his family, Tan said that he would see them few times a week and his wife, a seamstress, was now supporting the children.

He began to tear again, and the commissioners paused and waited for Tan to regain his composure.

"Currency forgery is a very serious crime. If you had been tried in the courts, you would have been put over on the other side for a very long time. Would you rather be on the other side?" asked Harun.

Tan did not know how to answer the question.

Commissioner Prof Hamdan Adnan, another panel member, said recently the total number of ISA detainees now stands at 113, a rise since the 69 figure reported by Suhakam in its inaugural annual report.

The increase is related to the mass arrest, since last year, of so-called Malaysian Mujahidin Group (KMM) members who were allegedly plotting to overthrow the government through militant means.

Most of them are politically aware and one often reads about their family members initiating legal action against their detention.

As far as the public is concerned, ISA is where politicians and dissidents are incarcerated for their contradictory beliefs and convictions.

However, detainees like Tan do not even comprehend the law — which is evoked against those who threaten the nation's security — let alone their constitutional rights.

They have no access to legal advice while their families are more concerned with surviving on a day to day basis than dealing with the quagmires that come with a will to challenge the ISA.

So what happens to them?

Tan said he has met with the ISA advisory board four times, which convenes to review a detainee's sentence and make suggestions to the Home Affairs Ministry.

Lacking political and financial clout, the only thing that Tan and others like him can do, is wait.