[Interview] The man who almost got shot on the night of the PolyU Seige

Editor’s Note: Frontliners in this context refers to protestors that clash with the police.

(04 Mar) This is a true story. Verified in my own ways, he experienced life and death in Tsim Sha Tsui that day.

Through the help of a frontline protestor, we were able to do a short interview.

Please listen to his story if you feel that the movement has calmed down.

He is a person from middle class with a successful career. He also owns a car and an apartment. He was a peaceful protestor. The most courageous thing he did was to chant slogans.

The siege of PolyU changed things. In that evening at PolyU, this core building couldn’t be reached, that core building was blocked, etc. Every second was a nightmare. Seeing that protests ‘blossomed’ in different districts during midnight was the most promising glimmer of hope that night.

Jordan, in particular, crowds were seen under the dark night. No one chanted slogans, but the battle lasted until dawn. When the day started, people didn’t go to work, they all went to Tsim Sha Tsui East.

He was one of them, the man in a suit who went to Tsim Sha Tsui to save PolyU.

“I’ve never thought of going onto the frontline, especially wearing a suit, but my friend was in there. I’ve told him to ‘add oil’ many times, although I know my verbal support is useless.”

It was contradictory. Maybe he drew a line for himself the moment he decided to wear a suit – that he would not get onto the frontline.

Until he reached a crossroads.

At that time, people started occupying the roads in Tsim Sha Tsui. Those who watched live would be able to see that there were less than 10 protestors standing on the road.

There were many bystanders. It would only take a physical step to get involved, yet mental boundaries were too high to cross.

The few protestors who occupied the road didn’t complain. They only put down their bamboo sticks and stood silently under the sun.

At that moment, he made his decision. He asked a bystander for a mask, and he stepped out into the road.

“I was furious at that moment. ‘We said we need to save PolyU’, come out!” I shouted to the bystanders on both sides. Sadly, I was ignored.”

The chanting was not loud enough, and the scene was dead compared to the vibes online.

He sulked while cursing Hongkongers in his heart. Moments later, a few office ladies joined in, without a word, and the black-clad squad reappeared in the distance, on the opposite side of the junction.

The road started to get crowded. The roadblocks that were placed a while back were no longer lonely. There were people besides the frontliners – Hongkongers.

“The camera couldn’t capture it all, or there were many people moving around in the scene. But to be honest, most of them were bystanders. When a ‘blue ribbon’ (pro-Beijing) single-handedly removed the roadblocks, no one reacted.”

At that moment, a young protestor in black rushed forward and stopped the 'blue ribbon'. After that, the crowd slowly came forward, and the 'blue ribbon' was doused with water. He then left, defeated.

People started complaining.

“People on the road had a go at those on the sidewalk, slamming them for not even daring to step onto the road, not to mention saving PolyU. Unfortunately, the number of people on the road remained scarce. The police vehicles arrived moments later, and everyone started running as soon as they heard the siren.”

During the escape, he clutched his bamboo stick and ran against the flow towards the police vehicles. Behind him were a stranger and two men in suits who placed some roadblocks before fleeing.

He didn’t dare to look back. At that moment, he was the nearest man to the riot police.

Crowds came and went. Eventually, everyone joined. The main battlefield has hit the road nearby, and fellow protestors went forward for reinforcement. There was a new slogan on the streets of Tsim Sha Tsui:

To PolyU, rescue the students.

He said that it’s not the momentum that he couldn’t forget, but the reality. When fellow protestors changed their outfits behind the umbrellas, he was in his suit and wasn’t aware that he shouted.

“ ‘Anyone got a black t-shirt and a gas mask?’ I asked. Seconds later, someone handed me the items. Maybe I was forcing myself to go onto the frontline.”

He was glad to be wearing trainers. I asked if it was deliberate? He laughed and said there are no coincidences in this world. He didn’t wear leather shoes because he was too committed when he works.

He saw an office lady in a tight-fitted long skirt, carrying a large box of supplies as she ran. That outfit should have appeared in Central, not on the battlefield.

When he got to the frontline, it turned out that there were far fewer people than expected. He was among squads of protestors, and a lone man like him could only play it by ear.

With an umbrella in his hand, he stood on the front row. The riot police were only a few dozen meters away. Crouching to guard, he couldn’t actually see anything behind the umbrella.

“There was lots of gunfire. Was it tear gas, rubber bullets, sponge grenades, or live rounds? I couldn’t tell, because I couldn’t see anything except for the bones of my umbrella.”

A few minutes in on the frontline, and he discovered that the left sidewalk was filled with journalists. All of a sudden, he could see the streets, because his umbrella got shot and the umbrella bones broke. Surprisingly, it wasn’t until that moment that he heard the shots.

The riot police slowly went forward. The peaceful protestors had already run to the back, but the frontliners did not leave. “Don’t be afraid. If you’re afraid, don’t stay.” Someone from a squad yelled.

“One two, one-two.” Everyone shouted in unison. They stepped backward in an orderly fashion, keeping a certain distance from the police.

“In fact, it was hard to leave. Behind us were broken bricks, how could we run away. I understand that the peaceful protestors wanted to contribute, and setting up brick roadblocks was one of the easiest ways to contribute.”

He wouldn’t complain, because he was also a peaceful protestor an hour ago that day. He recalled that a female frontliner went to the back and shouted at them, saying that the broken bricks would only hinder their escape, but no one cared, people just silently spread the bricks all over the road.

Shortly after, tear gas filled the sky. It was actually harder to open your eyes through the eye mask. Has the riot police caught up? He didn’t dare to turn back. He could only run backward, but unfortunately, he tripped on a broken brick and almost fell.

Luckily, he managed to go into a park to wash his eyes. When he looked back to the road, it was already deserted. Citizens had retreated to the back streets, frontliners converged with peaceful protestors, and set up a defense line. Someone then asked the trickiest question.

“A young frontliner asked, ‘Hey, who has thrown the ‘fire magic’ (i.e. Molotov cocktail) before?’ Only a few raised their hands. The Molotov cocktails were passed around, and in the end, only the few who raised their hands were brave enough to throw them.”

It was only then that he found out that it was not easy to be a frontliner. The moment he received the bottle, he thought of his family and his future, so he passed it to someone beside him.

In fact, the most valiant has a family and future as well, right?

That’s the clearest division. There are actually very few real frontliners.

After that were constant attacks and retreats. He kept holding on to his umbrella for protection until an umbrella bone hit his forehead, and two more umbrella bones broke subsequently. White smoke came from behind, turned out that the tear gas bullet almost hit him.

That shot was aimed for the head.

He ran for his life, and when he calmed down, he saw a hole on his trainer. His toenail cracked, and there was a large blood clot on his calf.

He couldn’t run anymore, he gasped for air on the sidewalk which he occupied earlier that morning and raised his hands for an umbrella wall.

He got changed and left.

“I was terrified. I saw other fellow frontline protestors who were in a far more dangerous situation than mine, but they did not leave. A lot of them were very young, I was probably the oldest. Yet I was the first to go.”

He stayed in the protest area until the evening, many streets fell into the police’s hand. The moonlight was blocked by white smoke, yet frontliners still stood in defense on the road.

He couldn't contact his friend at PolyU. Amidst chaos and gunfire, what came to his mind were the memories of school back in those days.

That was 18 November.

The High Court ruled the anti-mask law unconstitutional.

Parents knelt and begged to see their children.

Students refused to leave PolyU, saying that they “didn’t want any regrets”.

Tens of thousands pushed close towards PolyU, fearless of the firing of water cannon trucks.

A stampede happened at midnight.

In the end, his friend managed to escape from PolyU. To this day, both of them remain free.

“That night was dangerous, but there was a group of office ladies who brought supplies. There was also a group of elderly who refused to leave, and another group of fellow protestors who went for the rescue. No one dared to come out in the morning, but as soon as someone took the first step, it infected others.”

At the end of the conversation, he kept repeating, “Don’t give up”.

We must not give up.

If you think the movement has died down and the fight is over, maybe you could do something about it.

Like the first few who occupied the road, like the kid who stopped the ‘blue ribbon’ on his own, like the man who was in his suit and trainers.

The power lies in numbers.

You can change more than you think.

Don’t give up.

Source: Terry Yeung (Stand News)

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