The Protest Part Two: The Breath of Hell

This is the second post of a two parter. Part one can be found here.

So... protest. I'm at the head of it. In front of us is a line of armored squad cars and a small legion of riot guards. People are bunched up in front of it, looking lost and confused. A faint stench of tear gas permeates the air. The protest is over. People are going home.

Unfortunately, for most people 'home' is west of the barrier. The police are encouraging people to take the side streets out, move away from O'Higgins and get back on track later. Some people do this. The much stupider people just walk around them, heading along the main road. The police don't stop them. They're riot police, not babysitters. If people want to go into the riot zone, they deserve whatever they get.

The sensible thing to do would be to walk away. Call my labmates, tell them I'm done, then meet up and get lunch. At the very least I could walk down the sidestreet and go back to work. There's nothing worthwhile past that line. If I'm not careful, collected, and competent I could get badly hurt in the riot. Most people who know me know that I'm none of those. Unfortunately, they also know I'm not sensible either.

I can't really explain what made me go in there. 'Stupidity' doesn't describe, because it implies I didn't know what I was getting into. Neither does 'Overconfidence', because it implies that I thought I wouldn't get hurt. Maybe 'Insanity'. Or perhaps 'Fatalism'. I knew exactly what I was getting into, knew what the consequences could be, but didn't care. For a moment my temporary well-being was less important than the chance to experience something awful and overwhelming. Something I literally couldn't comprehend until I was in the middle of it.

I cross the line.

I cross it with nothing but a camera and a death wish.

Everything was empty. No cars, no rioters. The only men and women were the people like me who were crossing to look or head home. It seemed like everything was under control and I was wasting my what the hell?

Water cannon. The government uses massive tanks to knock down people and scatter groups. It offers finer control than riot gas and more temporary damage. There were over two dozen patrolling the streets. An unlucky or incautious rioter could lose a bone to one. They were the least scary things around.

The scarier thing is on the other side. I turn and see a swarm of people running from a cloud. I get a fast picture off and then I'm running, too.

They safe from the cloud, but that doesn't change things. Terror keeps them moving. I run simply to escape them. I angle myself towards a side street, but everybody else has a different plan. They see a large candy stand and think it'll protect them. I'm swept along with the crush, forcing us all to pack behind the thin walls. At some point I lose my shoe. I forget when. The squeezing starts to get a little painful. I didn't come this far only to get hurt in the first three minutes. I wedge my elbows into the people around me and force them to stop crowding. I have space.

Nothing happens. We were safe the whole time. People scatter in relief. I find my shoe and head off of the sidewalk, angling towards the bike path. It's both more open there with better visibility and has more cover. Plus it's further from the streets, giving me some extra warning time against attacks. This ends up being incredibly helpful. Everybody on the streets is either a rioter, a police vehicle, or a poor bystander caught in the crossfire. And, I guess, a few idiots like me who are trying to capture it all.

A much more dedicated journalist who brought a better camera.
Oh, and a gas mask. We high-fived.

If you want to stay safe there are certain things worth knowing. Tear gas is active long after it turns transparent. Memorize the cloud locations and avoid them even if you can't see anything. Keep away from the sidewalks and streets; those are preferred by the rioters and are more likely to get attacked. Know what everything looks like. Trucks are APCs, tanks are water cannons, cars are gassers. If you see a fast moving vehicle in the distance move to the other side of the path. Pay attention to the obstructions, barriers, and escape routes all around you. At any point you can run down a sidestreet and be out of danger, and you should be careful to never let something restrict your mobility. Tanks and cars work in tandem. If you see a sprayer, the area around it is probably gassed. If somebody starts screaming and running, follow them. Most importantly, try not to look like a rioter. Keep these things in mind and you can move about freely. I saw quite a few people forget one of these rules and pay the consequences.

Some people running from danger. Some running to it.

The last rule is important. At one point I am along the sidewalk again, not quite sure if I was ready to leave. Then I come to a police line. Eleven of them, all mounted on horses. No chance of escaping on foot unless I leave the area. I decide I'm not quite ready for that. Do not run. I stop when I see them and slowly walk forward. Do not threaten. I hold my camera up to my neck, not pointing it at them. I am not armed. I do not have riot gear. I'm just a guy risking his health to take pictures. They look at me briefly, then stop caring. Do not anger. I hold up my camera, keeping my fingers far away from the button. They look again but make no aggressive movements or gestures. I slowly move my finger in place and press the trigger.

Police Line

Then I walk past them. In a charged and tense warzone I was able to convey I was harmless. The last rule, indeed.

I continue moving forward. A couple of times I have to sprint. These times they're less blind and more controlled. A few times I get pictures over my shoulder as I try to escape. For the most part they turn out terrible. I can't do everything.

When people start running, you do too.

Rioters are getting much more violent. At this point everybody has either a gas mask, a bandanna, or a lemon. I'm one of the few without anything. I'm still doing better than a lot of people, possibly because I'm not running up to squad cars and throwing paint cans. I just hang back and take pictures of other people doing it. Paint bombs splatter against riot cars and now every single army piece is marked with a Brassau of colors. Either the rioters are a lot braver than before or the lemons really help; I see a couple run into gas clouds to get better shots.

The street is in ruins. People are ripping out signposts to use as battering rams. Storefronts are shattered and the air is thick with ambient gas. There has not been a point for half an hour where my eyes weren't watery and my breath wasn't sharp. But I continue to move. There are almost constant gas and water attacks now. I keep aware and avoid everything.

Moments later somebody would pick it up and wave it like a flag.

Some people set a fire in the street to keep the police away.
It didn't work. Guess why.

My camera is almost dead. I get brief windows of picture taking before it shuts down again. I have a bare handful of moments before it goes out all together. Time to take the money shots. A car is heading towards us. I'm the first to run, getting to the minimum safe distance before stopping. Then I turn to take a video.

At the same time a water cannon opens fire. Both streams throw rainbows onto the avenue. I can't help it. I laugh. Fire, tear gas, screaming people, and rainbows. I get as close as I can to the spray and take my last picture:

My battery dies. The tank sees me. The turret swivels.

I break into a dead run. Across the street in less than two seconds. The geyster is following me and I can hear it roaring in my ear. I remember a small alcove in the next street. I dash the gap, jump over the ledge, and drop into a crouch. Chest to knees, hands over head. The blast hits the alcove and skips over me. I'm drenched. I remember quickly taking the memory card out of my camera to protect it. I wait. The tank moves on. I'm safe for now. I stand up. And that's when the tear gas hits me.

There's only one way I can sum it up: Tear gas hurts. My mouth catches fire. It feels like somebody rubbed a habanero paste all over my tongue and palate. I'm lucky as hell it does get in my lungs. I can still walk. But my eyes... my eyes are melting out of their sockets. They're screwed tight but still leaking out of the cracks, dribbling over my nose and lips... by sheer force of will I blink them open. The escape route is in the same place I left it. Within seconds I'm off O'Higgins and my stay in the battlefield is over.

I wrote this post while walking away from the riot. It gave me something to do until for the gas to wear off. It was mostly gone within ten minutes. My eyes still felt hot for the rest of the day and everything tasted like pepper. I swept a wide arc around the place, called my labmates, and came back to work within half an hour. By that time I had no more tells and nobody saw anything wrong with me. They believed me when I said that nothing happened. If any of you guys are reading this now, I'm sorry for lying. But I was safe, and I had no lasting injury.

Later during work my professor came by. We talked a little about my project, and how it was coming along faster than expected. I've already gotten the error bounds to under three percent, and should be able to get it even lower. But the research wasn't the main reason he came by. He wanted to talk about the protest. He was there; I saw him and waved, but he didn't notice me. He asked me what I knew about the background, and I told him. Then he helped me fill in some blanks I had, as well as give a more personal view on things. Apparently the average Chilean ends college a debt equal to the value of the house. I think he was overall impressed with my familiarity with the situation; last week's (minor) riot encouraged me to research it.

After work my friends and I compared war stories. They were apartment hunting when they stumbled into the riot and had to escape. They were all tear gassed multiple times and two were chased by riot cops. That made me wonder how I got off so easily. Luck had a lot to do with it. But I'm starting to wonder if a large part of it was my own doing. Doing my half hour in the zone I managed to work around a hell of a lot of chaos. I didn't feel much panic and kept rational even during the gassing. I used to think that I'd be completely useless in a crisis situation. Now I'm not so sure.

Was it worth it? Oh yes. If I knew what would happen, would I have done it the first time? Definitely. Would I do it again? I don't know. I really don't know. There was a protest this week, last week, and the week before. Most likely there will be another one next week. I'm not sure if I will attend. Most likely I'll just stay home. If I do go, I'll almost certainly stay in the civil part and far away from the riot part.

But maybe, just maybe, I'll go to the next protest with a water bottle, a pair of goggles, and a sack of chopped up lemons.