Rattling pots and pans

Pinochet wasn't a very nice person. He was fond of doing things like "ruining the economy" and "torturing political opponents" and "killing anybody who disagreed with him." Given a lot of people disagreed with him and a lot of people did not want to die, free speech was practically nonexistent in the country. The department secretary recalls that when people wanted to voice their complaints, they would start banging pots and pans together. It was pretty common to see whole blocks, neighborhoods, half the city take up the cry.

Last night they had a protest, aimed right at the president's office. It was probably the most violent one to date. Over 800 people were arrested. For the record, the one I participated in, with over 200,000 people marching, had... 13. That night, people  once again took up the cry. From every house and apartment complex came the low, fast rattling. People want their education.

(Incidentally, talking about the protests are a surefire way to make people like you. Researchers have been tripping over each other to explain the details of the political situation. When our landlord found out that I went to one he excitedly got me to show him my pictures.)

I wasn't thinking too much of it last night. But when walking to work today I saw this:

Right on the middle of the main road. Looks like they're preparing something big. I've been refreshing a few local news sites but nothing's shown up yet. Whatever it is, I'll be glad to be out of Santiago for the weekend.

Souvenir

Another protest today. I didn't go (hey, I keep my promises) but Brian did. He got me a souvenir.

I can't thank him enough.

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.

The Protest Part One: One Hundred Thousand Heads Held High

Yesterday was the protest. I was going to update it all then, but other life intervened. This is the part one of two. The second post can be found here.


The day is unusually clear. Normally Santiago is choked with winter smog, the two mountains keeping all of the gas and dust in. But it rained the night before, clearing up the city. People can see far off into the distance. It is a good day for a protest.


I get there at 10:30, having missed the lab group heading out. We meet up on one of the Green line stops and head over. At first the protest seems tattered. We stay in one place for a while, and I see maybe thirty people pass. My friends aren't worried, though. According to them, this protest will make the last look like a crazy drunk with a microphone. I'm both optimistic and worried. The government cracked down hard on the last one. Would this time be any different?

I take a few photos, not particularly interested at this point. Everybody from the Engineering School is wearing green. Some riot police pass by, preparing for things to get ugly. A grad student jokes that they look like Ninja Turtles. The resemblance is there. I continue to take some photos, all too boring to talk about. My excitement is wearing thin.

And then we turn the corner.

I don't think this picture really conveys the scale on the ground. Nobody else thought so, either, so we pushed deeper into the crowd. Somebody helped me up onto a ledge, where I had a better view of things. This is what I got.

This is three campuses of Universidad de Chile. UChile has 13 campuses. There are 34 colleges in Santiago. We weren't a crowd. We were an army.

My group beckons me. We fall behind one banner. Everybody starts chanting the university anthem. And we start marching. I am now a protester.

It's pretty hard to describe what it's like. I am just a drop in the ocean, a single voice among a hundred thousand. I do not understand the language, can not translate a thing anybody was saying, don't even have a complete idea of what the entire thing was about. I know the overview but not any of the details. Yet I am marching with them, so I am protesting. My feet and legs added to the rest of them. And we are in the center. If the gas came in or the crowd starting crushing, I'd be the first one down. Desperately trying to remember the survival tactics, I start mapping out the escape routes. Pay careful attention to the shops and alleys, trying to figure out where best to run. I know deep down that if something does happen I won't have the freedom to choose where I go, but planning this makes me feel a little safer.

Our group is moving slowly. I find out it's not too hard to move around. You have to either use one of the street islands if you want to remain in the thick of things, or along the sidewalks if you want to cover long distances. The streets are packed, but the sidewalks are still clear for now. I tell my friends that I'm ranging ahead and they should worry about me. I will call them when I'm headed home.

I'm able to get a better sense of the crowd now. It's perhaps three long metra stops across, estimated at 1.5-2.5 miles. I have no trouble believing the estimates of 100,000+ people. The people range from banner wavers and chanters to choreographed dancers and marching bands. I tried to capture a good sense of it with my camera. I've provided translations where I could:

This still doesn't quite capture the scale of things. I'm starting to grow frustrated at my impotence. I can share details but not the big picture. I'm consigned to only show a grounds eye view of things. It's impossible to convey the energy and the sum total of the experience.

And then I come across this:

It's a bus shelter. I grab on to the advert and hoist my body up. A short scramble later and I'm on the roof. I finally have a birds eye view of the protest.

Getting down is a lot harder, mostly because I'm still shaking from the sight. I continue following the crowd. The sidewalks are getting packed and it seems to be slowing down. My eyes and throat start to water. There's something in the air, something that frames the place with a terrible sense of chaos. I finally reach the head of the crowd. We've stopped moving. We're done moving. The show is over and we don't get an encore.

The police won't let us.

Part two can be found here.

Second Batch

Short post tonight because there's not too much to talk about. Finally got in contact with Tito and Alex and Malus and Arthur. Arthur and I went to get him at Tito some prepaid phones, while Alex already has an international one. Forget what Malus has planned. Then we all had lunch and swung by our place to chat and catch up. Both AlexMalus and TitoArthur have expressed interest in the apartment, so I think we won't have trouble filling it up.

On the way back to Don Santiago we ran across some more protesters. When they saw I had a camera they stopped and posed for me.

"Education of your child is a right, not a debt of millions of pesos."

Later we romped around and made snarky jokes about each other. Tomorrow's a vacation day, so the entire city is going to shut down. We were looking for something to do outside of it but found that those, too, are gonna be shut down. Looks like it's either going to be a "go out and explore" day or "sit inside and trawl Youtube" day. I'm hoping for the former.

Jonathan Katz provided the translation. He requests that people contact him if it's inaccurate. 

Pandemonium

In the last days of the Chilean dictatorship Pinochet passed the notorious LOCE laws. Among other things, these laws privatized all education and reduced the power of educators in the system. People across the board have widely criticized it, but for the past 20 years nothing has been done. Frustrated with the slow pace of reform and faced with progressively worse school conditions, students shut down schools in 2006. This year they have done the same. At its peak in 2006 almost 800,000 students protested, and this year's strike wasn't much smaller.

Up until now my encounters with the protesters were fairly brief. A song here, a marching band there. Complicating manners was always my ignorance of the language, making it impossible to tell protesters from revelers. The rule of thumb seems to be that mixed gender marching teens with banners are probably protesting, groups of people with music and masks are probably protesting, and those old ladies walking their dogs are probably protesting. Mostly the protests congregate around a school or school district, and can reach hundreds strong. For example, the Quinta Normal protest happened earlier today.

I silently wished them luck and went on my way. My mind wasn't on the protests of a country half a world away from my home. I was worried about groceries, getting to work, keeping my bike in shape... mundane things, blithe compared to the culture war going on around me. Today was the protesters' day, though, and that was not the only rally happening. Nor was it the largest. I left the neighborhood and biked south. I had to cut east along O'Higgins, the main artery of Santiago, before I would reach the university.

I biked right into another protest. This one was slightly different from the first. Instead of hundreds of students, it had thousands. Instead of stopping at the traffic lights, it forced cars into the side alleys. Soldiers and policemen rerouted buses while armored trucks sedately followed the crowd. Or were they prowling? I parked my bike near the path and fumbled for my camera. Everything was peaceful, uniform, students smiling and singing songs and waving banners and chanting their minds. I got my camera out and switched it to video.

Then someone threw a gas bomb and everything went to hell.

I didn't get a shot of the ensuing chaos. I was a safe distance away from the cloud, but when you're faced with five thousand screaming people you run. I don't remember too much aside from the shrieks and roaring convoys. I almost ran over a man. All around me where panicked crowds, all around except behind. Behind was the slowly advancing wall of white.

I got behind a building and caught my breath. By some miracle everybody else did too. When the gas dispersed people picked up their tattered banners and continued marching. This time I was able to get a video. It only captures a fragment of the original protest. Even this is just a fragment.

With things a little steadier I also had the chance to take some pictures. They didn't come out too well, partially because I was still shaking too hard to keep the camera stable.

After five seconds after I got that second picture the next round of bombs went off. The fragile order collapsed again and the last dregs of protest completely shattered. This time I was safer. I managed to get a video of the panic and another round of pictures.

I watched the spectacle die. Within minutes the street was quiet again. Seemed like as good a time as any to leave. That was not the end of the protests, though. I ran into at least three more in the last stretch to work. I snapped a few uninteresting pictures of one. I ate lunch next to another. After that I went to work. It was pretty interesting, mostly working out a tricky analysis, but I'll spare you the boring details.

I later found out that at least some of the clouds were tear gas. I watched APCs run through clouds of white, and I saw rioters throw streaming cans. Which side used the gas? Both? Who knows? I've been working over a few scenes in my brain. Trying to match up the sounds, sights, and emotions. I feel like I've experienced something special. Despite all of the chaos and frenzy, I feel almost blessed to have been there.

The rest of the day passed quietly. Work. Went out with Peter and a friend from work. That deserves a post, but it feels sacrilegious to put it here. Got lost on the way home, ended up walking two or so kilos. All minor things not really worth talking about right now. For me, today was about the riot. I prefer to keep it that way.