Sunday, April 29, 2012
Mampos:
posted by fuzzkill 8:59 pm
Pic: Koren Shadmi
KUALA LUMPUR
IN the shadows cast by a random building in the city centre on the Saturday afternoon of the Bersih 3.0 rally, I found myself caught between three policemen beating and screaming at a young-ish Malay man, himself cowering with on the ground with his back to the wall, and Batu MP Tian Chua behind me in an argument with another cop. One cop breaks away from the pack petrifying the youth, who had begun crying, to yell at me with a hand on his sidearm unfastening its clasp.
"Kak pergi balik kak! Pergi! PERGI!"
Both my hands shoot up in reflex. But my feet don't move. Twenty minutes ago, I didn't think I would be here.
Twenty minutes ago: It is burning hot. The crowd is massive and pushing at all sides or not moving at all and all I want is to find some water. I pass young, old, women, men, Chinese, Indian, the chanting, the singing, the sitting, yellows, greens. I spot a 7-Eleven. I am not the only one. Closer to the convenience store, bodies press up with no space even to twist to get in. The store worker keeps the door closed from inside to keep the crowd from rushing in. No such luck. They storm in - I, with difficulty, get away. I spot a juice seller about 500m away and buy water. I head back to the City Hall building across the street from the Dataran Merdeka barricade where I had split up with my brother to see if he is still there. I get there. He isn't. And then:
There's a low booming noise from the barricades in front of Dataran. I see the jet of water first before the crowd below rushing at the FRU trucks. What a sight, I think safely from across the street. And then:
POW, POW, POW. Canisters of gas fall on every side of me. The crowd runs. I run. Tear gas hurts like a motherfucker, I think. I try to breathe. I can't. I remember my cough from weeks ago and how it might have made my lungs vulnerable. It's going to kill me, I think. I remember the box of milk in my pack. I pour it into the palm of my hand and all over my face. It helps. Men pry open (with what? I don't know) a fire hydrant to get water. Girls in tudung labuh pass me salt. I have no clue what to do with it.
"Put in under your tongue."
Respite lasts about 15 minutes. The protesters regroup on the main road. As do the police. The lines are drawn. The stand-off begins. The protesters inch closer and closer to the police line. And then, it's too close. The cops rush. The protesters run. The cops stop. The protesters stop. The protesters rush. The cops run. And then:
POW. POW. POW. Getting away from that second round of tear gas takes me to this small enclave behind the building. Chua offers me water to wash my eyes. And then the cops storm. Protesters jump a small space and over barbed wire to get to the other side. I do not. And then it's me, the boy, Chua and the cops.
"Kak pergi balik kak! Pergi! PERGI!"
I do not actually believe that he is going to shoot me. So, technically, I did not fear for my life. But my head was finding it hard to wrap itself around the situation that was unfolding. I felt slow while everything else was not. I felt like one move would change the course of things to come, so I didn't. However, I think the shouting made the other cops realise I was there, and I was watching. They stopped beating the boy and dragged him to his feet. I moved back and saw that behind Chua, another gang of cops were beating a young Chinese man. Chua tells them to stop. And then:
Stones start to rain on us. They are being thrown by a group of protesters from below. The cops yell at Chua as if he is responsible for this new development. He is not. But both he and I scream at the stone-throwers to stop. They stop. And then:
A rush of policemen run past me back from where they had been chasing the protesters. I had never seen a group of policemen run. I had never seen a group of policemen run from a group of civilians. I had never seen any of the things I saw in that fiery afternoon. I had never felt the things I felt that burning hot day when the federal capital turned war zone for one afternoon. And then:
"I think you should come with me."
I follow Chua back out to the street.
IN the shadows cast by a random building in the city centre on the Saturday afternoon of the Bersih 3.0 rally, I found myself caught between three policemen beating and screaming at a young-ish Malay man, himself cowering with on the ground with his back to the wall, and Batu MP Tian Chua behind me in an argument with another cop. One cop breaks away from the pack petrifying the youth, who had begun crying, to yell at me with a hand on his sidearm unfastening its clasp.
"Kak pergi balik kak! Pergi! PERGI!"
Both my hands shoot up in reflex. But my feet don't move. Twenty minutes ago, I didn't think I would be here.
Twenty minutes ago: It is burning hot. The crowd is massive and pushing at all sides or not moving at all and all I want is to find some water. I pass young, old, women, men, Chinese, Indian, the chanting, the singing, the sitting, yellows, greens. I spot a 7-Eleven. I am not the only one. Closer to the convenience store, bodies press up with no space even to twist to get in. The store worker keeps the door closed from inside to keep the crowd from rushing in. No such luck. They storm in - I, with difficulty, get away. I spot a juice seller about 500m away and buy water. I head back to the City Hall building across the street from the Dataran Merdeka barricade where I had split up with my brother to see if he is still there. I get there. He isn't. And then:
There's a low booming noise from the barricades in front of Dataran. I see the jet of water first before the crowd below rushing at the FRU trucks. What a sight, I think safely from across the street. And then:
POW, POW, POW. Canisters of gas fall on every side of me. The crowd runs. I run. Tear gas hurts like a motherfucker, I think. I try to breathe. I can't. I remember my cough from weeks ago and how it might have made my lungs vulnerable. It's going to kill me, I think. I remember the box of milk in my pack. I pour it into the palm of my hand and all over my face. It helps. Men pry open (with what? I don't know) a fire hydrant to get water. Girls in tudung labuh pass me salt. I have no clue what to do with it.
"Put in under your tongue."
Respite lasts about 15 minutes. The protesters regroup on the main road. As do the police. The lines are drawn. The stand-off begins. The protesters inch closer and closer to the police line. And then, it's too close. The cops rush. The protesters run. The cops stop. The protesters stop. The protesters rush. The cops run. And then:
POW. POW. POW. Getting away from that second round of tear gas takes me to this small enclave behind the building. Chua offers me water to wash my eyes. And then the cops storm. Protesters jump a small space and over barbed wire to get to the other side. I do not. And then it's me, the boy, Chua and the cops.
"Kak pergi balik kak! Pergi! PERGI!"
I do not actually believe that he is going to shoot me. So, technically, I did not fear for my life. But my head was finding it hard to wrap itself around the situation that was unfolding. I felt slow while everything else was not. I felt like one move would change the course of things to come, so I didn't. However, I think the shouting made the other cops realise I was there, and I was watching. They stopped beating the boy and dragged him to his feet. I moved back and saw that behind Chua, another gang of cops were beating a young Chinese man. Chua tells them to stop. And then:
Stones start to rain on us. They are being thrown by a group of protesters from below. The cops yell at Chua as if he is responsible for this new development. He is not. But both he and I scream at the stone-throwers to stop. They stop. And then:
A rush of policemen run past me back from where they had been chasing the protesters. I had never seen a group of policemen run. I had never seen a group of policemen run from a group of civilians. I had never seen any of the things I saw in that fiery afternoon. I had never felt the things I felt that burning hot day when the federal capital turned war zone for one afternoon. And then:
"I think you should come with me."
I follow Chua back out to the street.
posted by fuzzkill 8:59 pm
