A Bersih Saturday walk-about: Part 2 of 4
Continued from Part 1
“Dan sebab Maybank pun warna kuning, HIDUP MAYBANK!”
“HIDUP MAYBANK!”
“lol”
Along our walk to Pasar Seni, we chatted. I found that my UK friend - let’s call him Nazri - whom I first met while we were with a student society there is now a lawyer.
“Lawyers from the Bar Council are out in force today,” he said. They’re easily identified by their white shirts and black coats. Nazri wore a gray T-shirt. “Too stifling,” he said, making reference to the afternoon heat and possibly to the reserve he would’ve been expected to conduct himself with.
The Bar Council had always had a strong presence in the Malaysian civil society and that day was no different. 150 of its members had pledged themselves to bail out whoever got arrested. Members of SUHAKAM were also present donning bright yellow vests and keeping an eye out for human rights abuses.
Very few vehicles were on the road and most of the shops were shuttered. The sun, however, was shining brilliantly.
Our conversation turned to old friends.
“Marcus would’ve loved this,” I said, making reference to a late mutual friend.
Marcus Ng was my senior at Essex University. He was one of those Malaysians who had real passion for Malaysia and the Malaysian civil society. While I take a more cynical view of politics and especially of politicians, Marcus truly embraced the spirit of political change. Everyone knew Marcus.
A soft-spoken revolutionaire, he passed on far too young at 25. Many people turned up at his funeral. Among his friends at Essex, the impact was deeply felt.
“Yes. Yes, he would’ve,” Nazri replied solemnly.
Nazri and I didn’t need to walk very far. We saw a large group moving from Puduraya, past Nando’s and into Chinatown. The frontline marched at a quick pace in locked arms, ten men abreast, chanting “Bersih, bersih!”. Thousands trailed behind them.
“Jom, come along!” said Nazri as we stepped into the mass.
Before going any future, we need to talk about colours.
It wasn’t a totally gormless decision for me to wear red that day; since Bersih was supposed to be peaceful by nature and the Patriots were less likely to experience issues with the police due to their alignment with the government-of-the-day, wearing red was a safe choice. Besides, I like red.
Very few individuals were actually wearing the yellow Bersih shirts - the ones who brought them held them aloft. The crowd was good-natured, but quite boisterous.
The chants were quite political, despite the non-political nature of the rally demands themselves. Quite understandable, given the participation of many pro-Opposition and Pakatan Rakyat supporters. Nazri shouted along with the non-political chants, but kept still on the anti-Government ones. I felt that he was not very pleased with the misappropriation of the event. I marched along silently.
We marched along the street up into Chinatown. The crowd stopped as we were turning into the road leading up to Stadium Merdeka. A news helicopter circled overhead and a rather brave photographer climbed a shop roof and stood over the ledge for what I would believe to be a very good picture of the crowd.
The road was blocked, there wasn't a way through. The afternoon sun was beginning to heat up but cooler heads held sway despite the minor stand-off. After a few minutes of mulling about, the crowd turned back and marched back to the Maybank building, where people were beginning to gather.
I couldn't make out who was speaking on the steps, but the fellow was announcing that some of the Opposition leaders has been detained. He spoke further on political issues but I lost interest in what was said; I was more interested in the crowd around me.
In front of me was a rather plump Chinese lady taking pictures, with a yellow headband around her forehead. To my right was an Indian fellow chatting with and asking a middle-aged Malay man where can he buy a yellow Bersih shirt. The crowd would part to allow cars to pass, and cheered as the cars honked in support. I would like to think that free from politics, Malaysians have no problems with each other. Certainly, it was a rose-tinted view that overlooks the fundamental differences and grassroot frictions that kept the race-based political parties in business, but the thought was heartwarming.
There was a tiny commotion as another crowd approached the assemble. Some whispered that it was PERKASA, the right-wing pro-Malay NGO. The tension dispersed once it was clear that it was the DAP, the left-wing Opposition party. PAS with their women garbed in headscarves joined them a little later.
I looked around and saw that Nazri was nowhere in sight. Since there was nothing for it, I headed up the hill to the side of the Maybank building to get a better view of the crowd. People, tired from the walk, were sitting on the steps and at the top of the hill around 20 men were holding their Zohor prayers.
There was a commotion on the streets below me. I turned around.
The crowd in front of Maybank retreated to the left of my vision, leaving a wide gap between itself and what I assumed to be the police to the right beyond what I could see. The crowd then slowed. Some of the men rallied and turned back towards the right; the rest followed, kicking up a racket.
They were charging the police line.
Above the tumultuous roar, I heard faint pops from the right. The crowd stopped a second time, and was routed. They scrambled up the stairs, clambering hands over feet. A thick column of smoke rolled in. My throat itched. My eyes watered.
The police had shot us with tear gas.
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