When the ordinary became extraordinary

For the first time in my life, I could finally answer the question of what my biggest achievement was: it was to be united with tens of thousands of men and women, in spite of our physical differences, because we held a common belief.

by Scuba gal

JULY 12 — I’m as ordinary as it gets. I live in a decent-sized condo, in a fairly popular middle-upper class neighbourhood. I married my husband in my early 30s. I’ve got a decent job in a well-regarded private corporation, where I’m middle management.

No children just yet but we’re trying for the average number of two. On the weekends, we do what most Malaysians in our circumstances might do — head to the cinema, have a meal at one of KL’s many malls, catch up with family and friends.

Recently, I had to answer a little profile write-up for work. When asked “what’s your biggest achievement?”, I could think of nothing I’d done so far that qualified. Yes, I’m that ordinary.

This ordinary Malaysian grew up in a normal household. My father was a university lecturer, my mother a secondary school teacher. We weren’t poor, nor were we rich.

Luckily for me, my parents watched their money and saved enough to send me to a good university in the US. They were also fairly staunch Opposition supporters and I grew up apathetic about our government.

I came back after several years away to take care of a sick father. He passed on, I ended up staying. Though I disliked how there was increasing affirmative action for the majority race, it didn’t affect me enough to leave. I got a pretty good job, and my life was comfortable. I made sure I kept myself minimally informed of politics and the development of our country because it made no difference to me and would only upset my even keel.

Several years ago, just before the 2008 political tsunami, things began to change. I felt more and more upset as I saw my younger sister — top scorer, award-winning athlete, board of prefects, captain of her house — being passed over again and again for any sort of educational aid, because we weren’t the right race. And it got worse. Church burnings, the cow head incident, being told that as a Christian I couldn’t use the word “Allah.”

I got more and more angry. And I wanted to talk about it. But I was told by all the powers that be that it wasn’t in our culture to voice dissent or question any “sensitive” issue. In this multi-cultural nation, it’s amazing that we can claim there’s a single type of culture – aren’t our differences in culture and way of life precisely what we sell to the tourists?

But I was still angry, so I’d complain, although only to family members or friends who I knew for a fact had the same opinions as me. Like many Malaysians, I complained about everything – the rise in crime, the lowering education standards, the racist statements of some quarters in government, the inability of the Opposition leaders to see eye-to-eye. I complained all the time. But I didn’t do anything about it. Just like most people. After all, what could I do? It would be too much effort anyway.

And then Bersih 2.0 came along, and I suddenly felt this need to take action. I knew this was the moment to do more than just complain. So I decided I wanted to be a part of it. Was I worried? Heck, yeah! Even up to the morning of July 9th, a part of me was hoping the rally would be cancelled or that my mum would be worried enough by our government’s intimidation tactics to ask me not to go.

Neither happened. With a small group of friends (two Eurasians, one Chinese, two Indians, a Muslim East Malaysian – yes, we were “1 Malaysia”!), we braved the police at our first LRT stop at Taman Bahagia, then at KL Sentral, and at the entrance to Stadium Merdeka, at Dataran Maybank, and finally at Pudu. We faced a stand-off where we were fired at in the compound of Tung Shin hospital (yes, our Health Minister and top cop are both blatant liars). We were trapped by FRU trucks on both ends of the street but finally found a side alley to escape to.

I was terrified throughout the ordeal, knowing and seeing first-hand how our police cared little for the safety of the peaceful, innocent supporters. But it was worth it. Because for the first time in my life, I felt like a real Malaysian. For the first time in my life, I felt united with my fellow citizens regardless of race, religion, age, gender or where we came from. For the first time in my life, I felt I was part of something bigger.

For the first time in my life, I could finally answer the question of what my biggest achievement was: it was to be united with tens of thousands of men and women, in spite of our physical differences, because we held a common belief.

Was it a life-changing experience? It certainly was. Will it be enough to bring about the changes in elections and in the way things are run that we want? I can’t say for sure. But I do know that this ordinary Malaysian is humbled by the many other ordinary Malaysians who believe in something better. And who will stand up for our rights no matter the potential price, but always in a peaceful manner.

I’ve never been prouder to be simply Malaysian.

(from theMalaysianInsider)

In blackest day

My eye-witness account of July 9th, 2011 in Kuala Lumpur — the day Malaysians proved that peace-makers will always triumph over war-mongers

by Ahmad Azrai

I WAS THERE.

I was there, and no matter what the Malaysian government says — from their ownership of a vast majority of the mainstream media, down to the insensitive and/or untrue (mostly both) statements made by ministers or the Polis Di Raja Malaysia (Royal Malaysian Police or PDRM) — no matter how much they want to deny what happened in Kuala Lumpur (KL) on Saturday, July 9th, 2011, they cannot deny my words.

I was there.

I was there from the first Light Rail Transit (LRT) train in the morning at 6am, travelling and watching the clear roads, where there was hardly any traffic due to aggressive road closures enforced by the PDRM. At the last station, I got down to have breakfast, and bought a copy of the New Straits Times, The Star and Utusan Malaysia.

I was there.

I was there fuming, and trying hard to control my anger, at the blatantly one-sided depiction of the scope of events leading to July 9th. At how Bersih, a coalition of NGOs who wished to send a list of suggestions for freer and fairer elections to the supreme head of the country, was demonised by the mainstream government.

I was there.

I was there on the train again at 8.30am heading back home, planning to leave again for the hotspots around noon. On the train, I met up with the LRT security guards whom I have known over the past 13 years from riding the LRT almost everyday. They were dressed in their Polis Bantuan ("Auxiliary Police") uniforms. I chatted with them, and held my tongue when I discovered to my shock that they were sincerely against the gathering, and that the police were merely keeping the peace instead of threatening a peaceful group with arrests and implicit manhandling. I wished them well as they got off at their designated stations, and continued the journey home.

I was there.

I was there back at Wangsa Maju in record time as the trains ran at better-than-peak-hour efficiency. I promptly went to the cybercafé to read what the independent Internet media had to stay, as well as follow the progress on Twitter. At around 11.20, I walked back home, bathed again and went back out on the LRT. I headed out back to KL, and saw the huge gathering of people outside the old train station. Alighting at KL Sentral, I purchased a small bottle of water, which proved to be very useful later on. Stopping for lunch at the YMCA — all the while observing a small but very steady stream of people walking towards Jalan Petaling — I made my way towards the same venue at 1pm.

I was there.

I was there when a virtually-unbroken line of people a kilometre long made its slow but steady way towards Stadium Merdeka. Despite a small but very vocal number of active agitators, the line was quiet and dignified, with occasional bouts of cheers. I walked from Brickfields towards the train station, then the main post office and crossing over to the Pasar Seni LRT station, which had already been shut down.

I was there.

I was there amongst the crowd that moved from Petaling Street towards Jalan Pudu, bumping into my friends from work. I was not there as a worker though, even though I would have been within my rights to be there as the journalist that I am. Lack of support from my editor-in-chief was the reason why I was not there as a reporter on the scene. But I was there, as a citizen of Malaysia, which was the only justification I needed.

I was there.

I was there when Malaysians of all colours and ages walked peacefully towards the Puduraya Bus Station, and I was there as we all revelled in the fact that there were definitely more than 20,000 people standing all around — on the roads, in and around the bus station and Menara Maybank itself. I was there at 1.50pm when I met James Pollard, a British tourist from Bristol who was wondering what was going on. And as I gave him a continuous explanation, the Federal Reserve Unit (FRU) brought out water-cannons (laced with chemical irritants and not just harmless water) as well as the CS tear gas rifles, shooting both at the crowd. A small police force started running and catching people, kicking and beating some of those they caught in broad daylight.

I was there.

I was there as the crowd managed to push back the FRU for a moment before making its ways down Jalan Pudu to inch towards the stadium. James and I moved towards the bus station and rose up the ramp to get an elevated view. That was when the FRU decided to fire the tear gas above at the unarmed and non-participating spectators — in short, the innocent bystanders.

I was there.

I was there when I got hit by tear gas for the first time in my life. It was excruciating in a manner beyond mere words; the skin and the eyes burn and sear, as does the nose and throat, producing coughing that only serves to make the victim inhale even more irritants. I was racked in pain, unable to do anything but struggle to breathe and vomit. A concerned citizen tried to give me some salt to counter the effects, but I was too much in pain and discomfort to want it even though I knew it would help. It took a while, but the effects wore off, leaving me weak and feeling wretched.

I was there.

I was there when all my fellow Malaysians showed concern for one another, helping each other, not a single of whom were shouting or behaving in a manner befitting of hooligans. So unlike the police, strutting arrogantly with their weapons and numbers which were puny compared to the crowd, shouting insults and belittling the very people they had supposedly been sworn to protect and serve.

I was there.

I was there when they confronted the people who sat on the road, with nary a weapon of any sort in their hands. They only used their voices, and even then it was merely a wall of cheers and vocalisations. I saw it all from the overhead pedestrian bridge of the bus station when they fired tear gas again into the seated crowd. Another British friend I had made, Sam Franklin, got footage of the whole scene. Of course, being at the scene meant that in the rush to escape the gas, I got stuck, and got another stronger blast of the CS gas. It was even worse the second time around, due to the higher concentration. But again, I survived.

I was there.

I was there down on the street with James and Sam when there was a final ceasefire, and the MP for Subang R Sivarasa was negotiating with the police. And we then moved off to get a drink and recuperate — and therefore missed the Tung Shin hospital incident, which was reported brilliantly by my work colleague and friend, Max Koh. I have never been prouder of a friend than I am of Max for his concise, excellent account of what happened. This article is not meant to compete with his account — but I am the first to admit that it can never compete with its brilliance.

I was there.

I was there with my new-found friends who later took me back to their hostel to recover — with James; Sam; Kaya from Taiwan; Mike O'Connor from New Zealand; Tay Franssens from Holland; and Ben Quigley from the USA — and I sat down with them as they watched Sam's videos, and answered their questions as best as I could. And I told them not to just take my word for it, but to ask around. They did — and all agreed that even the contrary points of view (of which there were many, either from the police forces or from ordinary Malaysians, who for some reason did not understand nor support the Bersih movement) reinforced what I had told them. And reinforced what they had seen.

I wasn't there for some things.

I wasn't there when the deputy inspector-general of police denied that the Tung Shin Hospital compound was both attacked with tear gas and sprayed on with the chemical water, despite photos and videos to the contrary already up online. And I certainly wasn't there when the Prime Minister of Malaysia Mohd Najib Abdul Razak made fun of people who were weaklings for their reaction to "a little tear gas". Most definitely, I wasn't there — because if I was, I would have spit at him.

But I was there.

I was there that day, on the ground where brute force was used to subdue peaceful citizens who had every right to be in the capital city. Mohd Najib, where were you? You and your wife were out being wined and dined the whole day in luxurious comfort, as you always have been. And you have the audacity to speak about and belittle things that you obviously do not know about.

Well, I was there.

I was there, and I survived. You who call yourself a pemimpin ("leader", literally "one who guides") are not fit to pimpin me or any one of us anymore. And so I say that I am determined to continue fighting the good fight for freedom, truth, fairness and equality — even if it kills me. As the great Mahatma Gandhi once said: "They may torture my body, break my bones, even kill me, then they will have my dead body. NOT MY OBEDIENCE!" — and the same goes for me. As the old and beautiful song Tanah Pusaka goes: "Biar putih tulang, jangan putih mata." (Literally "Better to show that your bones are white, better not that show that your eyes are white", ie "Tis better to be dead than to be willingly blind") You can take away almost anything from me — but you can never take away my dignity.

I was there.

And I am still here.

Ahmad Azrai grew strong and learned how to carry on.

(from Facebook)

Speak UP

I can clearly see that everyone was the same, our goals are the same; it’s as if everyone was on the same wavelength. On that day there was only one race, one religion and one belief, they were all battling to be heard.

by Mavis Mercury

I first noticed the BERSIH badge on a friend’s profile picture. I was curious and actually saw that he had posted a BERSIH 2.0 official fan page on his wall. Curious, I clicked on it and started researching and looking through what they were all about; YouTube clips and websites.

I decided to register online and "liked" the page and instantly, kept myself updated with the current feeds. Spoke & discussed about it to a couple of friends even.

The reason I joined and showed interest was pretty simple; this campaign involved all the 3 main races including the natives back in the east and… of course, cleaning up the government. Looking through their passed rally from previous years, I was astounded. Sadly, I did not join the rally this year which I totally regret, but if there is another assembly in the future I can reassure you that I will be one of those people standing amongst the crowd. I am aware of the risk of joining the rally, but I also believe that each individual plays a part and one person can in fact make a difference. If we want progress and change, we definitely have to go through a few bumps; just like how Martin Luther King Jr., the activist and the leader of the African-American Civil rights movement who fought for the African Americans and back then when a group of women stood out in voicing out on wanting to be heard. This people went through a rough patch and went through hell at the beginning, to fight for a change and what they believe in, these changes did not happen overnight. We without a doubt have definitely benefited from it today. They stood and fought for the future. And now, we want our voices to be heard. We want a clean government, although cleaning it up 100% may be impossible, but at least something, for our kids and our kid’s children. The rally that was done on the 9th of July was incredibly amazing. For the first time, I am proud to be a Malaysian but at the same time was mortified by how the government reacted towards the rally. I was embarrassed for the ministers, or how the government responded to it. This puppets; it’s amazing how they “took care” of the whole situation. We all have different races, religions and other beliefs but the rally on that day…I can clearly see that everyone was the same, our goals are the same; it’s as if everyone was on the same wavelength. On that day there was only one race, one religion and one belief, they were all battling to be heard. I see women and men, brave men and women of all ages. Again, we’re all different but what unite us all on that particular day was that we are all Malaysian the real 1 Malaysia who wants changes to happen for our future. Watching all the clips and listening from friends who actually participated in the rally, standing right in the middle of it all, I salute your bravery as well as your courage to stand and show your support. You stood for your beliefs and went through hell and back but you were there.

There was no doubt that some or most people complained that their weekend was ruined, the jam was mad, complaining that this rally messed your weekend tremendously, shame on you! You may think this is done for nothing, some even say that the fight was unnecessary and pointless, and that it is totally useless because we could never win it or will never be heard. Shame on you too! If you want changes to be done, you need to step it up; you can’t expect anything to change if you just sit on your arse and expect it to happen magically. Of course there will be obstacles, of course it would not be easy, Rome wasn’t build in a day remember that. These people stood there to fight for our rights, not because of boredom or not because there was nothing left to do. It’s for our own land, for our own people and it all boils down to fairness! Particularly to all the women out there, our rights are claimed because a group of women fought for our rights! The majority of people at the time would never have expected the change…BUT IT DID!

So boohoo, your weekend was ruined? Is it because you missed your weekend outings? Could it be because you’re not into politics? Scratch all that. It’s not about that at all, it’s about changing and progressing, don’t be ignorant. If you do not support or not into it, at least give these people the respect they deserve. They stood out there walking into the city for the nation on their weekend. It’s sad, how we all live in a fast lane that we forget about other things, looking at the big picture. Well, I am sorry that your weekend was ruined, I am sorry that there was a road block almost in each corner of the city. You choose to not stand for anything but these people did. See, that’s what most of us did, we sat in our comfort zone, too afraid to speak up or became totally unaware. I am not into politics personally but I believe that changes should happen in this country. Sure some of you might disagree, then again; we’re all entitled to have our own opinion but I refuse to be a puppet to this country. I trust that all their effort would not go to waste and even if this country stay the same for another decade well at least those who stood their ground on the 9th of July 2011 will be remembered and I know that most of us will keep fighting for a bigger, brighter future.

(from Facebook)

Years from now people will ask, ‘Where were you during Bersih 2.0?’

If you have your own ideas on how you can make this country better in a peaceful way, we would love to lend in a helping hand, but if you still think that by sitting in front of your computers and posting negative or racial comments you’re making a difference, then you probably need to grows some balls or some brains or maybe both.

by "Muthu"

Before you guys read further I’d like to say a few things … I wrote this to archive the chain of events that actually took place on the Bersih 2.0 Rally, 9th of July 2011. I wouldn’t have to write this if had the media been free and independent (request number 5 by Bersih 2.0)

I don’t usually put up personal things here, but since this is considered like an historic event I couldn’t help myself from writing, and also I’m not by any way affiliated to any political party (but there was this time when I was younger when I had to put on an MIC T-Shirt, I would like to apologize to mankind for that) My intentions on going for the rally was purely on supporting to the rakyat (people) and being the voice of the voiceless

Lastly, if you are against the movement let us not have no beef. We both want to achieve world peace in our own terms, if you have an opinion that strongly differs I would like to apologize in advance so that if we were to ever meet up someday we can sit down and have tea, chat like how friends do.

I wrote this in bullet forms to simplify things and sorry there’s hardly any time stated as I did not go prepared (hp battery died and I don’t own a watch). I also included some personal things/thoughts along the way, hope you guys can bear with it.

• Woke up, saw the time 2:50 pm, Panicked! Had a turbo shower [regretted on drinking the night before with my colleagues & bosses]
• After shower, realised that the time earlier was actually only 10:10 am [f**k$&%^]
• Took dad’s bike to Kelana Jaya LRT Station via the Glenmarie, Shah Alam road, didn’t drive or head to Federal Highway as I was afraid of the roadblock/jam.
• There was a roadblock in Glenmarie! but they let me through, I guess they have been posted there since the night before and they we too tired to check everyone 1 by 1.
• Noticed that fuel was nearing ‘E’, told myself “can make it lar …” 
• Reached KJ, met up my colleague and took the train to Pasar Seni as one of our friend was already there.
• There was at least 1 policeman/policewoman in each and every platform and train. Was glad I didn’t wear anything yellow.
• reached Pasar Seni station and the crowd was f**kin immense, could see them sitting along the road at Pos Malaysia, KTM & LRT Station.
• A big ass Police & FRU squad was posted in front of Central Market blocking the road.
• As we were checking out the crowd, some bunch a guys started riling up the people with chants such as ‘Hidup Rakyat!’ & ‘Takbir’. After a while that small crowd became approximately 1,000!
• At 1st we were merely bystanders, they asked us to join the march, but before I could ask my colleague “should we join now?” he already jumps over the barricade and joins them marching. I followed.
• There was a slight decline in the speed of our movement, I’m guessing that’s the front liners were facing the authorities in Central Market, and some yelled “Pergi Masjid” (go to the Mosque)
• We headed to Masjid Jamek, majority of us were Malays, Chinese but hardly any Indians though.
• We were in front of Masjid Jamek and was instructed to sit down on the road, we covered each and every spot on the street. Made friends with some bunch a guys who were dressed up like Rastafarians (not that Rastafarians have an official way of dressing but you know what I mean lar)
• We were sitting down and Chanting the ‘Hidup Rakyat’ & ‘Takbir,’ after a few minutes we stood up and sang Negaraku, it felt great!
• While singing Negaraku, without warning FRU fired tear gas onto our direction! And the scramble began, there were almost a stampede but there were some veteran activist were among us and they yelled ‘jangan lari, jalan cepat cepat jer’ [dont run, just walk fast]
• Those damn tear gas were nasty! It was my first time and I did not come prepared despite living a house filled with surgical masks and protective eye wear (mom works for a manufacturing company). Once the smoke goes trough your nose everything inside will feel like comin out, once it hits your eyes you start crying a river and the toughest part is it temporarily paralyses your lungs. Somehow I recovered quick, I’m guessing all these years of jogging finally paid off.
• I was separated from my friend and thought I’ll call him later a bit as I realised the battery was so freaking low [was too wasted to charge the phone the night before]
• In the midst of running an elderly man asked if it was my 1st time? Another veteran activist, he made it sound like askin a kid whose goin on a roller-coaster ride in the theme park.
• We did our 1st run and some of us ran our asses off to the HSBC Jalan Ampang area. I was across the road from the small clock tower. Thats when I took off my shirt to wipe my tears off and pulled out my Malaysian Football jersey which I carefully rolled and stuffed into my pocket! HARIMAU MALAYA MOTHF**KAZZ!!!
• We headed to Petaling Street (in front of Kota Raya) there were more protesters coming from all direction, the crowd was building up even more.
• I called my friend and got reunited with him in front of Guardian, he received a call and soon a cousin of his joined us.
• The group wanted to march to Stadium Merdeka via the road along Kemayan ATC but that road there too we were blocked by authority.
• Later we were asked to head out to the other side of the block, as the crowd was moving someone yelled that the ‘PATRIOT’ group was there and they were purposely misleading us. The reason why? I don’t know but I doubt that they wanted a confrontation as we outnumbered them like HELL!
• At this juncture I saw Malaysians from all walks of life participating in the demonstrations. Malays, Chinese, Indians, East Malaysians, old people, really really old people, young teens, disabled people, gay people (I swear this one dude was checking me out!)
• We Sang Negaraku! I never been so happy singing the National Anthem.
• We chanted the standard demonstration lines:
• HIDUP HIDUP! HIDUP RAKYAT!
• HANCUR HANCUR! HANCUR BN!
• TAKBIR! ALLAHU AKBAR!
• MUNDUR MUNDUR! MUNDUR BN
• HANCUR HANCUR! HANCUR NAJIB!
• HANCUR HANCUR! HANCUR ROSMAH! (this one is my fav ^_^ )
• We started moving to Menara Maybank, where there was a speech by one of the main protesters. I’m guessing he was from an opposition political party (PKR I think) as he had a microphone and some speakers to address the crowd.
• Couldn’t really hear him but mainly the just chanted the standard lines, he emphasized Rosmah, lol. and towards the end he also said “kita juga ingin manyampaikan terima kasih kita kepada pihak Maybank kerana sudi memberikan ruang untuk kita berkumpul [translate: We would like to convey our thanks to Maybank for lending a space here to gather] (but obviously it’s because they were closed lar)
• The crowd kept waving at the passing trains and the commuters were waving back : )
• There were 2 police helicopters that kept circling the skies at all times, the movement kept showing them the finger.
• A bunch a young Malay girls who wore head scarves made their way forward and was put in the front lines. This was to psych the FRU’s from firing tear gas I think. But FRU’s didn’t bother, they fired again!
• Now the entire crowd has been funnelled into the Puduraya Road. The entrance at Menara Maybank has been blocked by cops and same goes to the end of the road heading to Times Square.
• In other words we were sitting ducks! either we have to battle them and move forward or disperse quietly.
• We heard the bells again, (the bell work like a signal if their gonna do some shit) then we heard that familiar sound ‘tratt! tat!’ damn tear gas again! this time crowd is more composed, they didn’t run like a horses and they all took big steps in their walk.
• I ran up towards the hill, the road heading towards the Bursa building, but the smoke was catching up fast so some of us ran in an alley and ended up in a dead end.
• We slowly turned back and head back to the Pudu road. To my surprise there was a mamak shop which was actually opened, it was in front of the temple. And quite a number the people who ran away from the tear gasses were actually recovering and refuelling on fluids there. I got myself a can of 100 Plus while I was at it.
• I enquired on food, I saw some on display but the cashier said no! (f**K%$^&$& I only had 1 slice of bread in the morning) This was to reduce the amount of people from chilling in the shop I think, and he was probably worried about looting and stuff.
• We all regrouped again in the streets of Pudu and this time the crowd was bigger than ever! We sat down on the road once again *_*
• Then we were being forced back and they started to squeeze us in, had to stand up and do a little walking, the clouds started appearing and we were all praying for rain.
• I was quite exhausted and was in need of something to eat, I sat and rested on the divider, leaned on a lamp post over looking the Puduraya Bus Station and suddenly they fired tear gas AGAIN! but this time not only it came from the front, it also showered from the sides. From above the buildings. (I suspect the FRUs took higher ground on the road that goes along the hotels at the back)
• Despite the brilliant strategy on scattering us, the FRUs misfired and half the canisters landed in to the construction site of the bus station, some even resorted on throwing back the canisters (God bless their burning fingers)
• Among the stray tear gasses some even made their way into Tung Shin Hospital! but into what appears to be the parking compound of the Hospital. I’m guessing that it was not intentional as their handling of the device was not good from start.
• There were some really hot chicz who then started screaming “KEJAM NYA, INGAT LAR TUHAN” [translate: THAT'S SO CRUELL, THINK OF GOD!]
• I ran towards a road leading to a church, at that very moment I realised these houses of God have truly played a unique role in this, as we first said our prayers in front of a Mosque and now our Muslim brothers and sisters actually have taken shelter in Hindu temple and Church.
• We were on the verge of getting back into the Puduraya streets and suddenly the FRUs started spraying the chemical laced water from their canons. A Malay chap told me “yang ni yang hijau punya, kuat punya ni” [translate: this is green one, it's the strongest] Lots of veterans in the house today!
• They were closing in on us, and I saw the numbers drop, quite a number of people have given up and left the scene. Me and the rest of the bunch who took temporary refuge in front of the church now ran towards to Tung Shin for shelter. I was thinking if they will barge in the Hospital with the troops ?
• I was in the car park and I saw some of our Muslim brothers protesters praying there. I moved away to respect to the ritual and went to the ledge overlooking the road to see what’s goin on.
• We started singing Negaraku! Once again it felt awesome!
• We got back on the streets, and the Bersih protesters were reunited once again, and we also reunited with the tear gas ones more.
• I saw several arrest made far in front of me. This was the hard line supporters of Bersih, PAS and Keadilan I think. These guys probably came prepared, judging from their actions and levels of defiance, I can bravely say they wanted to get arrested!
• I saw an elderly Malay man in a T-Shirt that says ‘Penang’ talkin to a foreigner dude about the tyranny of the BN government. He later gave him the Bersih 2.0 bandana and there you have it! a tourist-cum-activist! Malaysia Boleh!
• Several hours on this stand off, it wasn’t high noon any more, my pants, shoes, socks and jersey was wet. I was not in the mood to “Hidup this! HIDUP that” any longer. Then once again we received a combo of tear gas and water canons. This part truly annoyed the shit outta me as we were continuously spearing forward and running backwards like 3 to 4 times.
• This whole episode on moving forward and running back was because we were tricked by the police that they have agreed with the march and will let us go our way, they tricked us twice in fact!
• I was on the verge of leaving the hot zone and was dying for a decent meal and told myself “let’s have one last stand off and call it a day”
• We ran into Tung Shin Hospital. The cops moved in forward and stood at the gates! I told myself “SURES YOU ARE A DEAD MAN !”
• Me and several others ran towards the 1st enterance of Tung Shin but a set of cops ran up the stairs marching towards us! I gave a Theo Walcott sprint and ran toward the ledge of the carpark, most of the others regrouped on the other end and made a formation with a human chain around them.
• A good 20 to 30 people climbed up the hill on the side to make their escape but some of them stood and watched on what’s goin to happen to these superbly defiant ones.
• I was just a good 6 meters away from this circle, I heard a man say to a girl nearby “duduk jer sini, diorang tak kacau” [translate: just sit here and they will not disturb you]
• I sat my ass down along the walls with the 15-20 others as I watched the circle of the last stand hand to hand with their locked arms of a human chain, courageously stood together and said prayers, among the group were Muslim youths and some Chinese members of Bersih 2.0
• From my angle of view I could see 2 units prepared to pounce on these guys. It took them a while to collect their nerve, I don’t really blame them, both parties were to a certain extent afraid of each other.
• It was at that moment which I truly thought “dude you are screwed, you coulda been watching this on Youtube the next day but NO you had to be Che Guevera!”
• The cops moved in and arrested those guys. They didn’t really put up a fight and let the enforcers do their job, I’m glad they didn’t fist it out
• As they were walking those guys out, me and few were sitting by the side and some bunch a cops told us “korang kalau nak dok sini dok lah, sampai malam balik balik nanti” [you guys wanna sit it out? heck do it! you guys are gonna be here till night then!]
• So I figured the trick is to head back but quietly without attracting much attention but its pretty hard to do when you’re a black Indian dude who’s 6ft 2 wearing a yellow in colour jersey.
• So I walked out like “not a single fuck was given that day” with the straightest face. As I approached the exit there were some cops near the entrance! and there was a few behind me with a detained guy! *_* I found myself praying once again
• I saw my friend at the entrance, he was there taking pics (explains the pics above) I have never been so happy to see his face.
• So we left the scene and head the way back to the LRT Station
• On the way to the LRT Station we saw 1 of the guy who got arrested lying on the raod with cops surrounding him. Word has it that the cop who apprehended him tied that plastic handcuff on him to tight and it blocked his circulation.
• So we were doing what Malaysians do best, just sit and stare and suddenly some moron next to me SCREAMS: HIDUP HIDUP! HIDUP RAKYAT!
• I turned to search for my colleague and he once again vanishes from the scene and climbs the overheard bridge nearby to get a bird’s eye view (which explains the pic above btw)
• I had to slide from the scene as the heat was increasing with the amount of cops nosing their ass in. I didn’t look like a journalist especially with the colours on. I took a slow walk to Pasar Seni and thought I’d wait for my colleague there.
• As I was walking I saw a familiar face, It was MP of Bukit Lanjan, Elizabeth Wong. She had a nice pair of aviators on, I smiled and she smiled back : )
• While walking along the entrance of Petaling Street and I saw crowd of people surrounding a guy who was lying down on the road face first (not again) I heard some people say “kesian dia dah mati!” [pity him, he's dead] I kinda felt something fishy about it since his cap was on road and his face was resting on it. After a few seconds he got up! He was actually ‘planking‘ (-_-’)
• I thought I’ll wait for my friend in the LRT station and then head back home but then turns out that I had no choice as they closed the shutters and the station inaccessible.
• After a few minutes he arrived with roll of pics of the guy who laid unconscious.
• We decided to have a meal since we barely at shit since the day started.
• With all the people leaving the hot zones we guessed that we’ll be able to meet our buddy who was on the other side of the rally. We met up, chilled in front of Central Market and had a super late lunch in Restoran Yusof.
• The restaurant was filled with demonstrators and cops! Ultimate WTF moment of the day, these bunch a guys were just at it each others necks an hour earlier.
• We took cool picture of us 3 to conclude the day.

Pada suatu hari Ali, Muthu & Ah Chong pergi ke Kuala Lumpur.

• We took the train back KJ and had a chat with some random stranger about the rally.
• Reached KJ, said goodbye to my comrade and rode my bike back home feeling like Che Guevara!
• Bike runs outta fuel halfway! F**k$% FML HMS #$%#^# RATM Fail!
• Pushed the bike for 20 minutes to the nearest petrol station (that’s when I thought of writing this whole thing here) refuelled and rolled out.

Pics courtesy of : Troy 2.0 and Lukman the ‘Rock-Man’ Hussein. Title was inspired by Tranformers: Dark of The Moon and also my friend Nurul Afiah.

-THE END-

A message to haters/hate inciters

You can’t ‘pecah belahkan’ people simply by asking for clean election. It simply doesn’t make sense.

This Rally and this write up is not a diversion from any former Deputy Prime Minister’s sex probe.

Bersih 2.0 agreed to have it in the stadium after meeting the Agung as per the initial request, however the authorities went back on their words (remember the pied piper story?). The entire police and FRU battalion did not have to be dispatched that day, most of them could’ve been with their family and friends that day.

Ultimately if a permit was given, half the crowd wouldn’t have turned up, it would have been a placid event in a miserable stadium and it would not have made to international media on such a scale.

If you have your own ideas on how you can make this country better in a peaceful way, we would love to lend in a helping hand, but if you still think that by sitting in front of your computers and posting negative or racial comments you’re making a difference, then you probably need to grows some balls or some brains or maybe both.

You standin in line, believe in the lies, you bowin down to that flag, you gotta bullet in your head! – RATM

(from Exvasure)

In Pursuit of True Democracy

Standing right in front of the historic Merdeka Stadium on July 9, 2011, brought back my school memory of a photographic image in which our founding father, the late Tunku Abdul Rahman Putra Al-Haj, raised his right hand towards the sky, proclaiming the word “MERDEKA! MERDEKA! MERDEKA!”, each time followed by the thunderous echoes of 20,000 fellow Malaysians in the stadium. Sentimentally, I wish I lived that day

by Ron CK Sim

JULY 11 — July 9, 2011, the day a new independent nation was born. Is it the end of the struggle? No, it’s just the beginning. Many challenges lie ahead, no doubt. Nonetheless, it’s a historic milestone that all citizens of the new nation can be proud of. What nation am I talking about? The world’s newest nation, the Republic of South Sudan.

I’ve always dreamt of living in a different age, a different era. More specifically, the era when my beloved nation gained her independence from arguably the greatest empire the world has ever seen.

Standing right in front of the historic Merdeka Stadium on July 9, 2011, brought back my school memory of a photographic image in which our founding father, the late Tunku Abdul Rahman Putra Al-Haj, raised his right hand towards the sky, proclaiming the word “MERDEKA! MERDEKA! MERDEKA!”, each time followed by the thunderous echoes of 20,000 fellow Malaysians in the stadium. Sentimentally, I wish I lived that day.

Before I carry on “sentimentalising”, I was brought back to the harsh, present-day reality. Yes, still standing where I was, I was horrified by the scene along the hilly street leading to the main entrance to the stadium. Red FRU trucks lining the street with scores of FRU personnel (which we’ve not-very-fondly called the “red head army”) in their full gear.

I was wondering for a moment, who were their enemies of the day? The communist insurgents or the Al-Qaeda terrorists? No, their enemies were just the unarmed Malaysians from all walks of life marching for a just cause — to demand for free and fair elections! It’s living proof how much this nation of ours has descended to.

Seeing the scores of brave, unselfish and patriotic Malaysians on the locked-down streets of Kuala Lumpur was a touching moment to behold. They were undeterred by the heavy downpour that greeted them at 2pm.

Under my umbrella I was thinking, the heavy downpour must be a God-given help to the demonstrators to minimise the effects of chemical water and tear gas, reportedly fired at their fellow demonstrators at various locations downtown!

In many instances, I was moved to join in the crowd near the stadium compound, to march and scream along with them. You might be wondering, “Aren’t you one of them?” No, I was not. In fact, I was one of over a hundred “monitors” the Bar Council had called upon to volunteer for the defining event — an event the authorities had warned cannot be mentioned by name or symbolised by its colour!

Our duty was purely to monitor the situation, with a view to record any human rights violations by the police or any violence by the demonstrators, all “without fear or favour”.

Abiding by the spirit of the Bar, I was as impartial as I could ever be. Here’s briefly what I observed during the time I was in and around the stadium compound from 12.30pm to 4.30pm. I witnessed two congregations of demonstrators at two different entrances to the stadium compound, both of which were barricaded by the police using barbwires.

In contrast to other locations in the city, no tear gas or water cannons were used at all to disperse the crowd at the stadium compound — though there was once when the FRU personnel looked like they were getting ready to fire, presumably to intimidate the crowd. The crowd, though in high spirits, behaved peacefully and sensibly. There was not one occasion that I feared violence might possibly break out among the demonstrators.

To my little surprise, I thought the police at the stadium compound acted and behaved reasonably well and professionally (contrary to their counterparts elsewhere in the city I was told). At least they allowed the crowd to assemble, and to shout and gesture whatever they wanted until they started to disperse on their own at 4pm.

The police also allowed political speeches to be made by the likes of Chua Jui Meng, Husam Musa, etc and one high-ranking police officer also spoke gently and politely to National Laureate A. Samad Said. For the most part, I personally did not witness any clear violation of human rights by the police/FRU personnel but all that came to an abrupt end at 4.10pm, when they suddenly charged towards the remaining demonstrators without any warning!

By that time, the remaining demonstrators were just hanging around taking picures, and chatting among themselves. This action by the police/FRU personnel was unprovoked and utterly unnecessary, considering the majority of the crowd had already dispersed, or in the midst of dispersing.

After a while, I saw around six to eight demonstrators get arrested. But the good thing was the police did not beat up any of the arrested demonstrators, though they dragged the demonstrators in quite a high-handed manner. I must also add that all the BC monitors (and reporters/journalists) were allowed access into the stadium compound and literally had a free rein walking up and down the area. We were allowed to snap pictures without any restrictions whatsoever!

The truth is, Malaysians are a peaceful lot. They deserve to exercise their Constitutional rights to assemble peacefully and responsibly. The freedom of expression and assembly is a fundamental right of every “true” democracy. Having free and fair elections is the essence of any state that aspires to be recognised as a “truly” democratic state.

Why wouldn’t our government allow its people to exercise their Constitutional rights but instead chose to clamp down hard on innocent Malaysians? Didn’t our government realise by doing what they did in the past few weeks (well, one might say in the past three decades!), they were radically dismantling the very essence of democracy upon which our nation was founded almost 54 years ago!?

The Most Honourable Prime Minister, isn’t Malaysia a democratic state founded upon the principles of liberty and justice? Didn’t you agree with the late Tunku who proclaimed that the Persekutuan Tanah Melayu “shall be forever a sovereign, democratic and independent state founded upon the principles of liberty and justice, and ever seeking the welfare and happiness of its people and the maintenance of a just peace among all nations”?

Just as July 9, 2011, is a milestone for South Sudan, July 9, 2011, is another milestone for Malaysia in pursuit of being a “true” democracy. Our next milestone? Surely it ought to be our nation’s SECOND proclamation of independence post-GE 13! And where will it be? Where else but at Stadium MERDEKA…

(from the Malaysian Dream)

Yellow fever

We protested together, we laughed together, and when the tear gas canisters started to rain down, we shared salt and water together. 

by Shaun Tan

JULY 11 — “Forget it,” said my father. “You’ll never get anywhere near the city centre. The government’s got it completely locked down. Besides, the police will arrest anyone who even approaches the barricades — didn’t you read the papers? They’re going to be very brutal. They’re sending in the army.”

“I’d like to give it a shot anyway,” I replied.

He shrugged. “You’re wasting your time.”

The next morning he watched my sister, my uncle, my cousins, and I as we ineptly tried to plot a route into the city. Finally he gave an exasperated sigh. “You chaps have no hope of getting in. You don’t even know how the roads connect. You need someone who knows the road system and the different side-streets.”

I looked at him.

He was quiet for a moment.

Then he told us to get in the car.

He got behind the wheel and suddenly he was driving us through the streets of Kuala Lumpur, weaving through side streets and smooth-talking his way past police barricades.

When we arrived at the city centre he walked ahead like an excited child, boasting of his knowledge of the road system and laughing and joking along the way. I saw a side of him I hadn’t seen for a while.

The side of him who hates being told what not to do. The side of him that lets no authority trump his own reason. The side of him that throws caution to the winds and laughs as it blows past. He grinned mischievously and I thought, “Jeez, that’s where I get that spirit from.”

When we finally joined up with a Bersih procession I was heartened to see thousands of people of all races demonstrating peacefully. We protested together, we laughed together, and when the tear gas canisters started to rain down, we shared salt and water together. Like me, everyone else there had work to get back to, targets to meet, and obligations to fulfil, places to go and people to meet. But they came to the rally anyway because they knew it was important.

Despite the many instances of police brutality and their use of tear gas and water cannons on peaceful protestors, I also saw some policemen and women who were willing to meet my gaze not with hostility but with understanding, who were willing to shake hands with protestors, who spoke to me with friendliness and respect, and who acted with dignity and restraint.

These people were a credit to their office and represented the role of the police as it should be. The Bersih rally revealed a lot of ugliness in some, but it brought out the best in many others.

It’s been two days since the Bersih rally, since tens of thousands of us painted the town yellow, and since the BN-controlled press has worked to portray the peaceful protest as an unruly mob, and the lack of property damage as a victory for the government. But I’ll remember the 9th of July 2011 as the day thousands braved tear gas, police barricades, and the threats of arrest, violence, and genocide to preserve our freedom. The day we rejected the illegality of a peaceful rally for clean elections as being incompatible with a democracy.

To our government, I’d say that you know the true victors and losers of the 9th of July no matter what you pretend in the mainstream press. I’d say that despite everything, the people are still willing to work with you if you listen to us. But if you persist in your corruption and brutality, we will continue to embarrass you until we’ve driven you out of office.

And that if you decide to fight us you’ll be fighting your best people, for with us will stand those who are willing to struggle for the good of our country, and those to whom our common humanity matters more than your orders.

Here’s another tip: Take care when using the media. Many of us who turned out at Bersih did so because for years you’ve justified your rule in the language of rights and democracy. For years you’ve told us that Malaysia is a free and democratic country, and that the government is tolerant and moderate. And so on Saturday, thousands of Malaysians assembled to exercise their right to assemble and to speak out despite the ban, as they would in a tolerant democracy. For years you’ve used propaganda as a tool, forgetting that it cuts both ways. The problem with using propaganda though, is that, sometimes, people believe it.

It’s a funny world we live in.

* Shaun Tan is a Malaysian student. Contact him at shaunzhiming.tan@yale.edu

(from theMalaysianInsider)

How Bersih cleansed my Malaysian soul

I also noticed that most of them did not know each other, but had extended a warmth so tangible that I almost shed a tear in regret of all my stupid preconceptions about these people.

by Andrew Chee

JULY 12 — I’m a 28 moving on to 29-year-old man in Kuala Lumpur, the place where in 2008 I decided to get a fresh start. I am originally from Malacca and had been in Singapore for about 4½ years prior to moving to KL.

For the purposes of this story, let’s just say the sum of my life experiences has made me grouchy, surly, disgruntled and yes… RACIST. But I was a funny type of racist; I’m Chinese but have part-Baba heritage with very Westernised conditioning and cannot, for the life of me, speak any sort of Chinese dialect (save to order food).

I disliked the Malays and Indians for the usual stereotypical reasons, and I disliked the Chinese even more for being too “Cina” and I disliked the “lain-lains” for just being “lain-lain.” Sure, I have friends from other races; my very best friends are Malay Singaporeans, and my childhood friend, who is in KL as well, is a Chindian.

My project band which wrote a song for the MyConstitution album consisted of me, two Chinese girls, an Indian guy, a Sindhi, and two Malay guys. We were quite 1 Malaysia. Yet I could not discard my racial prejudices.

I disliked everyone, especially if they didn’t think like me. In a sense, I was a racial nihilist. I believed everyone was just as racist and using the tools of logic and reason, which I am so proud of, I often sought to make people around me admit their prejudices.

Having done so, I would conclude, as I have convinced myself, that we could never be 1 Malaysia or be just “Malaysian” and neither would meritocracy ever prevail in what I perceived in a society that was only a cultural pot of prejudices.

Diverse, yes… in its prejudices and preconceptions. There was a glimmer of hope when Hannah Yeoh tried to register her daughter as “Anak Malaysia” but then a small section of society, as portrayed by the mainstream media, vehemently opposed the temporary registration of her daughter as Chinese whilst she fought this battle. All I thought was: “There you go.” I smiled smugly to myself; I loved being proved right.

When Bersih came about I merely thought, “OK-lah, it’s a good thing-lah I suppose.” I decided not to go as I have exams soon and working while studying here has made me even grouchier, more pessimistic and somewhat depressed.

I felt like a small cog in the giant machine of society, plus I hadn’t quite had the time to prepare for this exam. So going for Bersih was definitely out. Besides, what would it change? This was the one time I was glad to be proven wrong.

My mum had called me in the afternoon that day to ask me where I was and, being concerned about the volatile situation, asked me not to go and focus on my exams. My mum is quite the socio-politically-aware woman but I knew she only had a mother’s concern for her child’s safety in telling me to stay at home.

I told her yes, I’m not going. But the very moment I said that, something urged me to go. My curiosity grew like a calling to fulfil some sort of purpose. In some ways, God, whom I’ve neglected for so long, decided that day to crush my arrogant notions and my supposedly infallible sense of logic and reason.

In a state of mild euphoria, I drove through some lesser-known roads and parked at Brickfields. Absolutely lost, directionless and intimidated by the police presence, I called my friend David, who called his wife, human rights lawyer Renuka.

They had just been tear-gassed in KL Sentral and Ambiga had been arrested. She nonetheless guided me on how to join the march and that she would come get me if she could. But the aftermath of the KL Sentral incident was too thick with tear gas and I instead joined another group which walked to the Chinese temple just outside Stadium Merdeka, which was blocked by a heavy police presence and a few fire engines, and ultimately to Pasar Seni LRT.

I was surrounded by the very people whom I had held so much prejudice against; the Indian uncle, the Chinese Ah Beng, the Malay pakciks and makciks. But this was different, I noticed that most of them were from out-of-town whilst I, who up to the last minute, had decided it was too bothersome to go what with the roadblocks and such.

I also noticed that most of them did not know each other, but had extended a warmth so tangible that I almost shed a tear in regret of all my stupid preconceptions about these people. I had up to this point concluded that most people were simply, out of the burden of city life, selfish and cold.

No, I was the one who was cold and selfish. Throughout the whole thing there were people who attempted to talk to me, seeing that I was rather quiet, perhaps guessing that I may be feeling a little scared. But I kept quiet, still trying to come to grips with what I was observing that day; the true Malaysian spirit.

No one saw me as Chinese or a city dweller or anything but a brother. I always thought people are inherently evil, but in spite of so many opportunities to steal, bully, rob, loot and plunder, I promise you no one even so much as committed a misdemeanour.

I saw my Malay brothers (I now call them brothers in the hope that they and others take me as their brother too) demonstrating their frustration at the injustice suffered, I suspect, not so much by themselves, but for their non-Malay brothers and sisters.

I could tell that many were not out there for themselves. And it was not so much during the chaotic moments that the Malaysian soul manifested, but in the moments in between. In between the chaos, many chattered to strangers and, surprisingly, to a stranger from a different race from themselves.

In the 7-Eleven, a Chinese man from Penang expressed his concern to a Malay stranger from Pahang about the Lynas situation while he in return expressed his admiration for the Chinese man’s effort to come all the way from Penang.

It was the quiet Indian uncles who came to demonstrate their love for the country, not the men who blare so loudly in the coffeeshops about the unfairness they suffer. The 60-year -old Chinese aunties, whom I suspect can barely speak English or Malay, came out with a look of joy and hope in their faces as if they saw a dream fulfilled.

It is with great shame that I confess that the Chinese-speaking youths with their blond hair and their Malaysian kindred had much more empathy and an understanding of unity than I gave them credit for or that I ever had. The love they had in their hearts for the fate of their nation and their brothers and sisters therein for a life and a promise of the idea of “Malaysia”.

I, with a formal education in jurisprudence and an intense penchant for philosophy, was the least among these greats. I had ideas of a socio-democrat Malaysia or of a modified contemporary Marxist/Socialist utopia but I was wrong. I forgot about the true patriots of this country. I was the fascist among these great socialists. They understood society better than I ever will. They understand sacrifice whereas I only understand theory.

I am equally guilty as the current administration for not understanding, and worse, for not even attempting to understand what Malaysia means. For this I am sorry.

Bersih and the tear gas have cleansed my Malaysian soul. I will never forget the moment when the tear gas canister flew over my head, the moment I was happy in this dreary existence. I am most likely to fail my upcoming exams but now I would rather fail it than not have gone for Bersih 2.0.

My Malaysian soul is wiped clean and I will try to rebuild slowly the spirit which my brothers and sisters displayed so strongly on July 9, 2011. And to Annie Ooi, you will always be my most foremost Lady of Liberty. I will think of you if ever my prejudices arise again.

(from theMalaysianInsider)