FACE OFF |
A Reformasi Diary by Sabri Zain |
Rain of terror![]() October 24th, 1998 It was five o’clock in the evening.
Rumours were flying that people were bringing kerosene and petrol bombs to the demonstrations this Saturday. Many felt that these rumours were started by people who wanted the police to crack down hard on the demonstrators and show no quarter. I didn’t want to take any chances either way. We made sure we didn’t carry any bags or anything that could be even suspected of containing incendiary material. We were, after all, not rioters - we just wanted to get my mother a new pair of slippers from Jalan TAR!
When we emerged at the front entrance, we were met by a huge crowd of shoppers. I say ‘shoppers’ because they were not angry young men - there were children, elderly men and women, families. No one was shouting, or chanting or singing. There were no banners or placards. People seemed to be just milling around, talking to each other, minding their own business. I remarked to my significant other that things looked as busy and as normal as any other weekend day in front of the popular shopping mall.
That shout was followed by a resounding "Allahuakbar!" and the police swooped in. A dozen plainclothes policemen emerged from the crowd and two or three men were pulled out, handcuffed and dragged by their hair to a waiting police truck. The demonstrators were paraded in the middle of the road, kicked and punched from behind, right in front of the crowd. It was as if the police were trying to drive home a point - they were going to get real tough today.
A Ministry of Information truck then arrived on the scene and someone read the Police Act over a loudhailer. "This is an illegal assembly. RM 10,000 penalty. One-year jail. Disperse now." The crowd did disperse. A line of policemen moved forward and waved us away, down Jalan TAR. Another line of policemen directed us into a back alley, round to the Coliseum cinema and back to the main road. We crossed into the Indian Mosque district but this time all entrances were blocked with even more police than there were last week. Some officers even took the opportunity to do some shopping themselves in the Saturday flea market.
A lot of people were coming into the market from the direction of Campbell Road and I could hear snatches of conversations as they passed by which indicated to me something was definitely happening. "They beat him until he was unconscious...", " ... did you manage to take a picture?", "... I heard tear gas canisters fired..."
We heard shouts from the Pertama Shopping Complex across the road and saw at least two dozen policemen run towards the mall shouting obscenities. A number of them had a boy pinned against the wall and a squad of other policemen surrounded him. They were kicking him mercilessly.
There were so many plainclothes officers lurking in the crowds, they probably needed the red ribbons for quick identification. There were stories that a number of plainclothes Special Branch officers had mistakenly been beaten up by their own brother officers in last week’s demonstrations. God works in mysterious ways.
Then another dozen or so policemen emerged from a nearby alley towards our little group in front of the cinema. They growled at us "Move! Move! What are you gawking at? Idiots!", which they punctuated with curses, obscenities and swings of their batons to hurry us along. We complied and walked away towards Campbell Shopping Complex again. As we were walking, I detected a strange acidic whiff in the air and asked my significant other if she smelled anything. "Yes," she said, "I smell trouble."
"No. It’s happened a lot. They’re not here to protect people or property. They’re here obeying the orders of their master." "Were you here last week? And what ...."
Pandemonium broke out. Almost immediately, everyone ran in every direction, in the wake of the acid rain. Within seconds, you could smell the choking fumes that burned your eyes and stung the skin. The road ahead was blocked by a thick wall of FRU riot police and, after seeing what had happened to the man who was dragged by his feet, we had no wish to be greeted by those guardians of the peace. We sprinted into the Odeon cinema parking area. People were scrambling over cars trying to find the shortest distance between the water cannon and safety. In the car park, I ran past a friend I had met just the day before. We said a quick "Hi!", exchanged smiles and continued running in different directions.
We ran into a side road, and collapsed in exhaustion on the pavement in front of a popular North Indian restaurant in the area. There were hundreds of other people milling about. Many were wiping their arms and faces with cloth, trying to get the sting out of their skin. Most had handkerchiefs over their mouths and noses and I myself started coughing uncontrollably. Asthma and tear gas are not a good combination.
In the MARA Building area, hundreds of people were trapped in a tunnel walkway that was packed with men, women and children - many crying, shouting in panic, tending wounds they received as they fell to escape charging policemen. The air was thick with acidic fumes - and terror.
An elderly lady passed by, soaked and weeping - I don’t know from fear or from tear gas. She was mumbling to herself. "I was only waiting for a bus. Why do this to an old woman who was only waiting for a bus.?" I then saw a group of reporters from a local English daily. They had seen some beatings and they were angry. "Bastards", said one of them. That would make a great front-page headline, I thought to myself. Perhaps there is hope yet for our local media - they do seem to have feelings like the rest of us.
My significant other dashed into a fast food restaurant and was frantically waving at me to join her. I remembered the accounts I’d heard about FRU men storming into the MacDonald’s at the Dayabumi building last Saturday and just picking up at random people standing in queue for food. I ran towards her as dozens of terrified people ran in the opposite direction and pulled her away as we fled towards Kampong Baru. In the stampede, the poor dear lost one of her shoes.
We walked towards Ampang Road. These people will spray poor, working and middle class ordinary Malaysians but would surely not want to cause anxiety among the rich and famous of Ampang. We stopped at the corner of the Bank Industri building where I left my significant other in a desperate search for footwear she could use. A young woman walking in bare feet along the road was bound to arouse a certain degree of curiosity among any patrolling policemen. She is usually very picky about the shoes she buys. But the ugly vinyl sandals I brought her fifteen minutes later must have seemed to her like a thousand-dollar Italian-made Gucci at the time. Lesson number one when you go out ‘shopping’ - wear fitting running shoes.
Later that evening, reports indicated that over 30 truckloads of police arrived in Kampong Baru. Police armed with sticks fought protesters throwing stones after police fired tear gas into the mosque in Kampong Baru and sprayed various areas of the district with water cannon. It is thought that at least 300 people were arrested. Hospital staff said at least 12 demonstrators were brought in for treatment of serious injuries following the clashes. Police claim one officer suffered minor injuries.
But it was clear that the police were not there to ensure the safety of people and property. They were not even there to stop protesters and pick them up. It was evident what their orders were - clear the streets completely, by whatever means, no matter who’s there - not one dissenter or even suspected dissenter must be left on the pavement. Peaceful or not, they were dissenters and had to be punished. For our country cannot abide with dissent. And, indeed, they did clear the streets - with brutal
efficiency. The many incidents I saw did not indicate the police were being
tough or even harsh - they were just plain cruel. They were let loose to
sow terror, pure and simple. But by sowing terror, they planted the seeds
of anger and hatred. And they showed the world exactly why thousands of
Malaysians have taken to the streets of Kuala Lumpur for six consecutive
weeks. |
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