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Teoh
Tian Jing (centre) standing with fellow protesters.
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Confessions
of a Singaporean protester II: I found out what it means to be a
citizen
Teoh Tian Jing
4 Oct 06
Below
is the account of Teoh Tian Jing who was one of the protesters at
the Empower Singaporeans Rally and March that led to a standoff
with the police from 16-19 Sep 06. This is the second installment
of the series Confessions of a Singaporean protester The first
was written by Jeffrey George.
As I begin to pen down
my thoughts, I cannot help but recollect the faces I'd seen
during the last 4 days, as they flash repeatedly across my mind
like a slide projector running images in a quiet, dark room.
It's a room full of seats but I'm be the only one in the
world to be privileged to sit in claim ownership of these images,
etched forever in memory, and remembered till the day I pass
on.
The group walked into Hong Lim Park with no resistance
of any sort like we had imagined. We had planned down to the
worse possible scenario of being immediately halted by a riot
squad before we even stepped into the park and then
arrested.
While some of the activists were registering to
speak at the Speaker's Corner, I had my virgin interaction with a
journalist who turned out to be a young, pretty lass from
Reuters, by the name of Fayen. She would be one of the people I
would see everyday.
When the standoff started, we were
encircled by police, reporters and cameramen.
A supporter
by the name of John brought in some food and much needed relief
from the human enclosure. Evening came and passed. Sore feet and
trembling knees slowly became numb. At about 10pm some of the
supporters standing outside the circle started singing national
songs, and suddenly I felt as though I could go on standing
forever.
By this time, food had already started to pile up
from well wishers, and I had a feeling of untold gratitude
towards these kind people. We stood steadfast, past midnight
before finally settling down.
An officer politely
suggested to me that I should sit to the side (of the walkway) so
that the bicycles won't hit me: "We are concerned about your
safety." I argued that bicycles would stop and wheel across
even when the path wasn't blocked, because they wouldn't want to
risk hitting YOU guys, so I couldn't be more safe sitting down
there.
Then I recalled during the press conference earlier
that day, one of the reporters asked, "Dr Chee, did the
police treat you well during the night?" And he replied
"Absolutely…absolutely NOT." This explained the
extreme attitude change the police went through in the few hours.
This is a land of 4 million fake smiles, indeed.
On the
second day after the downpour, we stood a little more until the
sun set, and then laid out a tarpaulin on the sidewalk and rested
our sore feet and tired bodies. Francis bought food, and while we
started to tuck in, John appeared. That moment is a slice in time
that I will want to preserve. John bought food; from 2 large
plastic bags he whipped out munchies, cakes of all varieties,
disposable raincoats, wet tissues, other toiletries, and he took
it all out one by one. It was like receiving birthday presents,
each one more delightful than the other. Everybody hushed in
anticipation of what was to come out of that red bag, and
squealed at what came out of it. John was our Santa Claus.
Then
there were the three women supporters whom we affectionately
called our 'Charlies Angels'. They left such an impact on me that
I couldn't help but feel absolutely moved by their little actions
of support. One of them brought in vitamin C and garlic tablets,
and I gladly washed them down together with a light meal. I
started chatting with them and the light conversation greatly
boosted my mood and determination to stay put till the
end.
There are simply no words to describe how I felt
then, looking at the police looking at us enjoying ourselves on
the sidewalk of Hong Lim Park. Perhaps I felt fortunate to have
met these people at this place. Perhaps it was a feeling of
bliss, because we were having an outdoor picnic while the police
looked on.
And perhaps it was because it was the element
of human-ness that is so sorely lacking in the Singaporean
society. It was the human touch at that moment, selfless people
looking out for each other, people gathering together for a
common ideal.
But it also struck me that by contrast
Singapore had developed into a very selfish society, a place
where people tend to think only about themselves or their
immediate friends or families, and where everything is motivated
by money. It is a place where human relationships don't matter
and where materialism has taken over what defines us as human
beings – compassion.
After dinner, Chee's family
came by. Mei, his wife and his three young kids came to visit us.
He embraced his youngest son and carried him, while Siok Chin
played with the other two daughters at the carpark
nearby.
Immediately, the police sprang into action from
their daydreaming, having had nothing to do but stand around and
watch over us the whole day. The video cameras started rolling. I
could only watch quietly at their actions. It was a pathetic and
very shameful scene to witness.
I stepped up to one of the
officers and whispered, "Don't you feel stupid for taking
all these?" pointing to the two girls and Siok Chin who were
teasing each other like how I would play with my young nieces and
nephews.
Having being wide awake for more than 36 hours, I
wasn't feeling too good and was on the verge of falling ill due
to lack of sleep. And having my fretting parents at home who had
seen the newspaper, I decided to home for that night.
I
met up with my fellow protesters at Raffles Place the following
(third) day, giving out flyers to let people know of the ongoing
protest. Fresh from the comfort of my own bed, I relieved Rizal
of his stack of flyers and finished the task in a jiffy. We then
proceeded back to Hong Lim Park with two plainclothes officers
following us from a distance.
The day passed strangely
calm, and in the evening we had even more food and more company.
A German couple, who had been there since day one but were
intimidated by the police's presence, finally decided to sit with
us. The chiefs of foreign news agencies also came down as did
some members of the Worker Party's who brought some food.
That
night I couldn't sleep. I sat at one of the stone barriers beside
the road, and Rizal joined me. At 2am, we both went back and I
tried again to sleep, but it was too humid. Then I got up and sat
at the stone barrier again, simply looking at the taxis driving
past.
When dawn came, I took out the sleeping bag I had
brought from the previous night and took a half-hour nap, at long
last. After a night of thrill, tension and adrenaline, my body
finally allowed me to relax for a while.
The helicopters
came for the second time in four days, and I could not help but
feel amazed at the extent they would go to and the kind of money
they would waste to monitor nothing.
By noon, the area was
packed. Journalists, passersby, students, cameramen, protesters
surrounded, Dr. Chee started his press conference. Gandhi and Ms
Chee gave their speeches as well. Then we linked arms and sang
"We Shall Overcome", the song we sang on the first day.
Then Chee announced it: We were going home.
In the car, I
could only look on. An oldie tune played on the stereo, and I
thought it befitted my mood. It was so surreal. I felt as though
the scene was pulled from a movie. As we pulled out from the
carpark, I continued looking at the police and noticed some new
faces. These replacements obviously did not know what happened
the past four days. Then my mind went
blank.
Afterthought:
During the 4 days,
there was not an instance that I felt fear. For the cause that we
were fighting for, the fear of the police, fear of being
arrested, fear of being jailed seemed like something I could
handle with relative ease.
Through the experience, I
finally had a taste of what it really meant to feel a sense of
belonging. A sense of belonging is so important for people to
develop patriotism, which is something that also does not exist
here.
In Singapore, nothing really belongs to you. Every
inch of soil here belongs to the government, HDB houses really
belong to the HDB, and your car belongs to you for only as long
as the date on that piece of paper.
In one of the two
notes I wrote to the police, I said: Feel your heart, is this
what you call a country when citizens don't even have a voice? Is
it no wonder that people call this a place to work in but not
live in?
At the very least, we the protesters can claim
that for four days – when the sky was our roof, the police
were our gates, and the foreign reporters were our burglar alarm
– we experienced the real meaning of citizenship.
Love
for the country, for the soil – they cannot be taught in
textbooks. It would have to be felt by the passion and action of
each and every individual.
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