Being Frank with Myself
The end is coming. Words are that the police are going to remove us once and for all. It's due to happen by tomorrow the earliest, or the day after; some say next week.
I wasn't in a mood for conversation - a periodic occurrence due to my particular personality trait - but even I could sense the tense atmosphere last night in Admiralty, a tension mixing with despair.
A comrade from Causeway Bay kept asking me for a survey map I have been working on. He asked me to scout on police movement for the Student Front, "a new "actionist" student group" to quote his words; the western end of the site was being reinforced with more lines of barricade. For my survey I had to ask the builders on the new change. My efforts were met with cold suspicion. There was an omnipresent fear of undercover agent. It wasn't until I took some time to explain myself before they divulged the tiniest bit of information to me; outside the Legislative Council building, wooden shields and rubber arm-guards are being crafted in urgency. The umbrella is quickly getting obsolete as defensive gear.
But what am I doing here?
In Australia, a housemate of mine once said that not many people act, most people just react to things. At the time, he was saying in the context of relationship, not social upheaval. I never comprehend the former, and I'm just starting to comprehend the latter, but I come to find that both work more or less in the same way. To act is never my strong suit. The best I could do for action is to put myself into the situation, and let the situation drives me. So far, it has driven me to the first line; to the tear gas; to the batons; to the chemical irritants; to someone else's rescue, but I did not intend for these to happen; I merely did what the situation calls for. Reacting do not take much courage, just common senses, acting does; and those who do act are now in custody or hospital.
A week ago, I would still be willing to throw myself into the more dreading of situation. Back then I had nothing to lose, but things are different now. That translation course which I didn't expect to be able to pay for have unexpectedly accepted me. Later I learnt that my family went through a lot to get this money to pay for it. To waste it all by making me crippled is a betrayal. I have something to lose now.
Then again, so is everyone else out there. The students risk getting disqualified due to being absent for so long; the workers lose their job simply for being here; many are facing sentences or sentences to come. They made sacrifice, but making sacrifice require courage. Do I still have any in me?
Sometimes I ask: why am I here? The universal suffrage is to me but a vague demand. Intellectually, I know the need for a healthy democratic system; but emotionally, it is still an abstraction. What actually stirred me up is the abuse of force on the part of the police, but since when had I begun to care about the others? I have always been living for myself; at times I ignore even my family, what make me feel for the distant faces on the TV screen?
For all I know, the students are here for democracy. To them it has reach the level of emotional need; the adults are here to protect them; the medics are here to help; the volunteers are here to feed them; the artists are here because the occupied site has proven to be excellent studio space; the politicians are here to gain credit; the bravado are here to test their manhood; the spectator are here to watch the "big things" to happen. Perhaps, I am a bit of everything.
But for the most part, I am just an ordinary man.
If I live, so be it.
If I wound, so be it.
If I cripple, so be it.
If I die, so be it.