February 16, 2003
Before
I’ve always described myself as non-political, because I don’t read about current events and I don’t want to get into any political argument with anyone about things I don’t know well about. But maybe my apathy is also because I am too deeply in love with humanity and it hurts just to think about the world we are living in and the lives people are leading to and the suffering and ignorance and the helplessness of individuals. I may not voice my concerns in public but I know I weep in private.
I don’t read news because I don’t want to have other people’s view of the world events. I know I am usually not well-informed enough to take a stand on any issue. Instead, my political views are, if any, purely formed from intuition. In my life I have only been to one demonstration – back while I was in Hong Kong when Chinese government was running tanks in Beijing.
I turned further away from politics after 911 because I did not know how to express my feeling about the war on terrorists. Then last week I joined a local peace march in Ann Arbor, out of curiosity. That was when I first learned that the US was about to be at war with Iraq. Who is Iraq? What did they do to the US during the past year? I must have missed a lot!
By intuition, I love peace because I love people and I love people who love peace. So I have decided that I am against the war.
Wednesday, February 12, 2003
Then when a time came and when Ryan asked me if I wanted to share a ride to New York for the global protest against possible war on Iraq, I decided to go. I decided to drive 700 miles to just be there, to be part of it, to be a witness and to add one small count to the 100,000 expected demonstrators against war. Special thanks for George and Sushil for their moral support of my crazy trip.
Thursday, February 13, 2003
On Thursday we started to plan the trip. From the official website (www.unitedforpeace.org) I found a housing board, with list of New Yorkers willing to provide housing for out-of-state protesters. We contacted some people and received warm replies. I feel so grateful and moved that strangers would share their very crowded places for us to stay. Many thanks to Suzy, Will, John, Diana, John, Mana, Israel, Madelon, Sarah and Lisa for their kind offers and replies. Because of the concern of parking and early arrival hour, we decided to drive overnight Friday night, meet up with Suzy and go directly to the rally in the morning. There was snowstorm forecast and we were warned the prepare 12-14 hours of driving.
8:20 PM, Friday, February 14, 2003, Ann Arbor to New York City
Ryan came from Battle Creek, 77 miles west of Ann Arbor, to join me. We packed my 1985 VW Jetta with water, snacks, and signs, and started the long night’s journey at 8:20 Friday evening. I drove till 3:30 and Ryan took over. I wanted to get some rest so I could be active during the events of the day. Around 5:30 we arrived in New York City. It was too early to bother Suzy, so we decided to find parking in a designated stadium. Without a street map of the city, we drove around and around for an hour until we found the Shea Stadium, but it wasn’t open. Since it was near Flushing Chinatown, we hang around the area for an hour, got some very yummy Chinese bakery, and headed for Suzy’s place in Long Island. She opened the door and welcomed us in when we rang her doorbell.
8:10 AM, Saturday, February 15, 2003, Long Island
Suzy’s real name is Shizuko. She and her family moved from Japan 20 years ago. She is 52 and works in Long Island. Her oldest son is a Honda engineer in Columbus, Ohio. Her second son is in the US Marine and has left for preparation of the war. Her youngest daughter is a psychology student. Her husband moved back to Japan with the company and now she lives in the Long Island house alone, with plenty of rooms. We exchanged several emails before our trip. She was so warm and open, and already treated us like a mother and a good friend. We were not surprised to find her affectionate, caring, loving, considerate, and gracious. I even became friends with her dog Tyler.
9:10 AM, Liberty Train
We left for a nearby train station without much rest. It was 9:10 when we met other members from the Huntington group, a group formed by residents in the area. We got discounted round-trip train tickets and boarded the “liberty” train. There were about 100 people in the group, many of them older people. Political protests were not for young people only! The organizers were very active and excited about the events. Some people walked along the alley and engaged passengers to sing together. I did not know their songs.
10:45 AM, Penn Station
The train arrived at Penn Station around 10:45. Shizuko, Ryan and I left the group and went onto the street by ourselves. I was in New York again! I love this city. I had only visited here briefly twice before, and every time I felt at home. This city always reminds me of Hong Kong, with a darker tone, and somehow more complex, more diverse, more sophisticated, and more engaging. Immediately we were among other protesters. Many people were carrying signs, and dressed warmly. They all looked very active and hopeful, as if going to a festival. We did not know which way to go, so we simply followed the larger of the crowds.
11:10 AM, Public Library
At first there were people here and there walking along with us, and the crowds grew bigger and bigger at every intersection. When we reached the Public Library at 11:10, the steps were already occupied by protesters and there was a big people jam. Police were coming in and moving people off the street to the curbside. A group of veterans, dressed in old army cloth, started chanting, as if they were still in the service. One veteran was sitting in a wheelchair. Their face weathered, their gaze kind, and their banner said “Veterans for Peace”.
The three of us constantly got lost in the crowd. We picked up signs distributed by the organizer and agreed to use the signs to find one another in case of separation. Shizuko got a sign which said, “Support our troops. Bring them home NOW!” Mine was the official sign on a cardboard stick, painted a blue globe with the words “The World Says No To War!” in English and Spanish. We left the library and continued to follow the crowds.
10:25 AM, Third Avenue
The crowds grew thicker and thicker and eventually we were completely surrounded by people. It was exciting! People were full of spirit. They talked aloud to their companions and engaged other people to join the conversations. One person, whose sign was coming lose from the stick, asked in a loud voice, “who’s got any duct tape? I need some to fix my sign.” When some young women sang “We don’t want your dirty war. We don’t want your duct tapes”, some guy added, “We only wanted the duct tapes to fix our signs”. Ryan took out a roll of duct tape from his backpack to fix our signs, and his act generated great laughter and supports.
Ryan wasn’t the only one made good use of the duct tapes. I saw duct tapes everywhere. A lot of people used the tapes to secure their signs, or to make signs. One group of signs had the tape covering mouths of the photos of the government leaders. Some people had tapes all over themselves. One person even had the tape over his own mouth. Later I saw an old lady, wrapped in a plastic cover, secured by duct tapes, telling everyone, “I feel very safe”. And there was a man in gas masks walking rapidly past the crowd.
We were surrounded by colorful signs and the messages were so varied, many very creative and thought provoking. The signs were in many different languages: English, Spanish, French, German, Arabic, Chinese, Korean, Japanese…. and in forms of photographs and cartoons and drawings and flags and banners and buttons, and in shapes of large peaceful birds. Some time when I paused and thought about the meaning in a sign, I felt deep disturbance and sorrow. Those signs against war and the administration infuriated me. Those signs calling for reflection made me think in larger scale. Even the simplest sign “Peace” made me want to weep, for they carried a message so strong, so loving, so compassionate, and so profound.
Unlike the protest in Ann Arbor the week before, the crowd in New York City composed of all kinds of people, people of all races, all ages, all cultural backgrounds, and all walks of life. Among them were young people with pierced noses and lips and pink hair and shaved heads, people in wheelchairs, little babies in strollers, small children on parents’ shoulders, women in elegant black coats, hippies with loose clothing and colorful headbands, black people with intense gaze, Asian girls with quiet smiles, Arabic men with long beard and turbans, middle eastern women with whole face but eyes covered, couples, families, friends, strangers met on the streets…. Not to mention those in costumes and masks. A few people wearing masks of the US leaders and drinking gasoline attracted large crowds, laughs and applauds.
There were always some energetic people starting a chant. They led people to shout in unison, “What do we want? – Peace! – When do we want it? – Now!” Some people yelled so much that they began to lose their voice. Then someone else took over the lead. Sometimes we heard a wave of shouting coming, and everyone started yelling and whistling and shouting and laughing, not knowing what started it. When people were doing things together, I felt warm being among them.
The cops were everywhere, fully equipped with plastic handcuffs, big sticks, and helmets. They were doing their job to prevent people from marching and reaching their destinations. At one point, the police stopped all of those who had wooden sticks on the signs and took the sticks away. Some policemen were chatting among themselves or with the protesters, but most of them were very tense and on guard. We did not like them.
We were walking north on the third avenue, because the police had set up barricade to block us from reaching the first avenue. At first we were walking on the sidewalks, and had to stop at each intersection to let the cross traffic go. Those cars were crazy to want to drive in such dense crowd. Eventually people started to walk on the road, chanting “whose streets? – Out streets!” and formed a massive march that was denied by the city. Yet we failed to persuade the police to let us through when they blocked us.
1:30 PM, First Avenue and 68th Street
We had to walk about 20 blocks before were allowed to turn east onto the Second Avenue, and another four blocks north before turning onto the First Avenue. When we reached the First Avenue, we were on 68th street, 20 blocks away from the assembly location. There we could not move freely. Each block there were barricades setup by the police and we could not go forward. Sometimes I felt we were like caged animals, waiting to be released.
Earlier on Third Avenue Shizuko met a Japanese man and they started walking together. Hiroshi is a professor of economics from Kyoto University and now a visiting professor in Columbia University. He had been to the DC protest a month ago. We parted with him after a while, but a couple of hours later on the First Avenue, we met him again! We went to an overcrowded grocery store and got some pasta. The four of us stood outside the store in the cold and ate our lunch. Everyone felt very good afterward. It was 2:30 PM. During the whole time, I did not talk to Hiroshi very much. I was probably too tired to make new friends. Later I regretted, because from what Shizuko told me, professor Hiroshi had many deep insights about the current affairs we were protesting.
2:50 PM, First Avenue and 63rd Street (?)
It took us another hour to advance one more block to 63rd Street. From there we could see a large screen, broadcasting the events on the stage of the assembly. Occasionally there were people among us carrying stereos and we could catch a few words here and there. Someone set up their own stereo systems on the porch of the building nearby. Still, there were not enough loud speakers around and most of the time we could not hear what was going on. I wish we could advance further, and see more people and hear more things. However, I was impressed that most people around us could still keep their high spirit and tried to listen to the speech attentively whenever possible.
3:30 PM, Second and Third Avenues, 40s and 50s blocks
Around 3:30 Ryan and I decided to split with Shizuko and Hiroshi to look for a restroom. As soon as we left the First Avenue, we could not come back in. We walked down the Second Avenue, hoping to get closer to the UN and see more actions. People on the streets were starting to disperse and leave, but everyone was still very spirited and when seeing other protesters, which was almost constantly, they would cheer to one another. We overheard someone saying “congregating over at the Times Square” and decided to go there instead.
We saw six policemen on horsebacks waiting. On the way to Times Square, there were police barricades at almost every block, and the pedestrian traffic seemed to be allowed in only one-way. The Grand Central Station was full of people waiting to get home. As we approached Times Square, we saw more and more police, getting ready for big actions.
5:00 PM, Times Square
The police action was effective. We were not allowed to stop on the sidewalk to even take pictures as tourists, and were not allowed to go into side streets. We thought about seeing a production of The Producers, but were stopped by police. I then asked them if we could check with the ticket office, and as soon as a policeman saw the big sign I was carrying, he directed me to go around several blocks and get into the street from the other side. I was getting really tired but I still wanted to see action or see the play. Unfortunately the play was sold out.
6:10 PM, Penn Station
Neon lights were flashing everywhere in Times Square. The cops out-numbered the congregating people. We grew tired of being stopped everywhere we went, and decided to go back to Shizuko’s. On our way to the train station, some people asked us about the situation in Times Square, and they wanted to join the action. A group of Costa Ricans saw the Spanish words on my sign and wanted to take pictures with it. On the train we were joined by other protesters going home, and they were still talking about the events of the day, tired but excited.
7:30 PM, Long Island
When we got back to Huntington Station it was 7:30. While waiting for Shizuko to pick us up, we witness a crime—someone drove off a car while the woman owner running and screaming after it. The weather was really cold.
We went to a Chinese restaurant and it was so full that the wait would be over an hour. Then Shizuko took us to a Japanese restaurant where we met the wonderful owner and other people who were working there. We had a delicious meal and exchanged warm memory of the day. Shizuko told us her stories of many past protests. Once she was arrested for protesting against the Narita airport. As we talked and laughed, we grew closer and began to develop real friendship.
Sunday, February 16, 2003, Long Island to I-80 to Michigan
We all had plenty of rest Saturday night and in the morning, we cooked breakfast together and discussed more about current events. Shizuko was growing very fond of us and wanted us to stay. We left her house at 11:10. I drove all the way back to Ann Arbor. On the way back, a snowstorm was developing in Pennsylvania so we had to drive slowly for a long time. We got some local newspapers along the way and shared the stories of protesters around the world. One town had a rally of 75 participants. Another article said that war was possible to be stopped. We were all much encouraged by the news.
9:20 PM, Sunday, February 16, 2003, Ann Arbor
We got back in town around 9:20 PM. After supper, Ryan left to go home.
I called my parents and wanted to tell them about my trip. I did not tell them before I left, because the last time when I talked to my father, he was in favor of a war “because it would help with the economy”. This time I was still too excited about my trip and had to tell them about it. My mother was very surprised to hear about my trip, but much to my relief, she said, “of course we do not want war”. Then she told me that my Bostonian sister and brother-in-law all wanted to have the war, because “Saddam was too bad and we had to fight them.”
Now
I don’t know….
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