BRING ME A RIOT (Chapt 18)
I was taking a walk trough the town one evening, drunk and depressed at the same time, thinking about how pointless my life has become. I was passing by a power pole, when I`ve noticed a familiar mark on the surface of the paint job. It was a round indentation, left by a bullet. I took a picture of it with my mobile camera. It was a souvenir from the last time in my memory, when my life had a deeper meaning, when I felt as a part of something bigger, than my daily rutines.
Guthenburg riots were a proper start for the new millenium in my mind, a due expression of everything my generation thought and felt about the new world order. It was the G8 summit and president Bush was visiting that summer. Media hysteria went overboard, warning against probable terror attacs from the anarchistic youth. I remember one article, where police successfully managed to disarm a group of Danish activists, who tried to smuggle a number of Molotov coctails to be used in Guthenburg during the riots. The whole point of the Molotov coctail is that it can be made by anyone anywhere with a botle of gasoline and a piece of cloth. A blunt lie from the police, trying to vilify any protestors and activists in advance. Later meny people would be charged with a violent rioting, which was hard to comprehend, since no violence from our side has ever taken place. Can one be violent against a Mc Donalds or a parked car? Property destruction- sure, however it was not unprovoked. Police had put all of the activists, coming from all over the Europe under arrest behind the police-biult barricades, in a school, where they were staying long before a first stone was thrown. That was a breach of the agreement which allow peacefull demonstrations. Reaction was a bunch of broken windows, partially destroyed pavement and burnt cars.
I was standing at the crossroad, where the culmination of the riots was to take place. Police had surrounded us, armed with newly issued telescopic bats. A few cops were beating to a pulp some teenagers, who were sitting on the grass near by. One flower-power girl was screaming, trying to cover her boyfriend`s motionless body with her own. A two meter long cop was continuing the assult, despite her face being already covered in blood, and her boyfriend being unconciousness. Huge german sheppards were surrounding them, barking, ready to tear the poor kid into pieces. It was stunning to see an expression of such pure hatred.
I heard a gun shot. Later the world news showed a clip of a young guy (Jonas), standing infront of the police or what looked like a massive wall of shields and helmets, then bending to pick up a stone. There were two near his feet- a hefty piece of the pavement and a small stone chip, which he picked up and threw towards the cops. It has landed meters from them, being rather a symolic gesture that any possible threat. Jonas was about to nearly pay with his life for that, when the bullet hit him in the stomach. Closer to where I was standing, panic broke out and demostrators, as well as just some curious bystanders scaterred in all directions. 6 more shots were fired. Atleast one towards a group, trying to escape upp a nearby hill. It has hit the green power pole, leaving a mark at a head level, that will say around 1,7 meters from the ground. Those, hired to serve and protect, were now shooting to kill. Noone from the force was ever made accountable for an attepted murder or anything at all for that matter. Public had swallowed the news as a given and even now most of the people are supporting the police actions that day.
Something has died with in me. I started loosing my political engagement, more drugs and boose aided in achieving the desired numbness. They win. They allways will. All I can do is remember that day, when they`ve flexed their muscle and taught us a lesson: they will shoot to kill without thinking twise at the smallest signs of disobedience. Jonas got half a year in prison for the violent rioting, after barely making it alive.
I looked at the picture in my mobile for a few moments, then deleted it and went on down the street, searching for a place to get wasted.
Guthenburg riots were a proper start for the new millenium in my mind, a due expression of everything my generation thought and felt about the new world order. It was the G8 summit and president Bush was visiting that summer. Media hysteria went overboard, warning against probable terror attacs from the anarchistic youth. I remember one article, where police successfully managed to disarm a group of Danish activists, who tried to smuggle a number of Molotov coctails to be used in Guthenburg during the riots. The whole point of the Molotov coctail is that it can be made by anyone anywhere with a botle of gasoline and a piece of cloth. A blunt lie from the police, trying to vilify any protestors and activists in advance. Later meny people would be charged with a violent rioting, which was hard to comprehend, since no violence from our side has ever taken place. Can one be violent against a Mc Donalds or a parked car? Property destruction- sure, however it was not unprovoked. Police had put all of the activists, coming from all over the Europe under arrest behind the police-biult barricades, in a school, where they were staying long before a first stone was thrown. That was a breach of the agreement which allow peacefull demonstrations. Reaction was a bunch of broken windows, partially destroyed pavement and burnt cars.
I was standing at the crossroad, where the culmination of the riots was to take place. Police had surrounded us, armed with newly issued telescopic bats. A few cops were beating to a pulp some teenagers, who were sitting on the grass near by. One flower-power girl was screaming, trying to cover her boyfriend`s motionless body with her own. A two meter long cop was continuing the assult, despite her face being already covered in blood, and her boyfriend being unconciousness. Huge german sheppards were surrounding them, barking, ready to tear the poor kid into pieces. It was stunning to see an expression of such pure hatred.
I heard a gun shot. Later the world news showed a clip of a young guy (Jonas), standing infront of the police or what looked like a massive wall of shields and helmets, then bending to pick up a stone. There were two near his feet- a hefty piece of the pavement and a small stone chip, which he picked up and threw towards the cops. It has landed meters from them, being rather a symolic gesture that any possible threat. Jonas was about to nearly pay with his life for that, when the bullet hit him in the stomach. Closer to where I was standing, panic broke out and demostrators, as well as just some curious bystanders scaterred in all directions. 6 more shots were fired. Atleast one towards a group, trying to escape upp a nearby hill. It has hit the green power pole, leaving a mark at a head level, that will say around 1,7 meters from the ground. Those, hired to serve and protect, were now shooting to kill. Noone from the force was ever made accountable for an attepted murder or anything at all for that matter. Public had swallowed the news as a given and even now most of the people are supporting the police actions that day.
Something has died with in me. I started loosing my political engagement, more drugs and boose aided in achieving the desired numbness. They win. They allways will. All I can do is remember that day, when they`ve flexed their muscle and taught us a lesson: they will shoot to kill without thinking twise at the smallest signs of disobedience. Jonas got half a year in prison for the violent rioting, after barely making it alive.
I looked at the picture in my mobile for a few moments, then deleted it and went on down the street, searching for a place to get wasted.
