[698] in peace2
A Medic's Tale
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Saurabh Asthana)
Tue Apr 24 16:19:10 2001
Message-Id: <200104242008.f3OK8VK31147@chaos11.bwh.harvard.edu>
To: peace-list@mit.edu
Reply-to: rednblack@alum.mit.edu
Date: Tue, 24 Apr 2001 16:08:31 -0400
From: Saurabh Asthana <angrymob@chaos11.bwh.harvard.edu>
I encourage all of you to read this story, written by one of the medics at
the Quebec protests last weekend, about her experiences there. It's very
moving, and also very well-written. It encapsulates, in my mind, both the
evil of the cops, and the inconsiderate nature of some militant protestors.
Saurabh
------
Extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice;
moderation in the pursuit of justice is no virtue.
-- Cicero
Hello there,
My name is Sara and I am currently finishing up a Biology degree from
Queen's University. I attended the anti-FTAA protests in Quebec City this
past weekend, and volunteered as a medic there. In this email you will
find a letter I wrote to tell the world what I saw. I think that personal
stories such as mine are very important, because they help people
understand what really went on at an event. For all the media that are
receiving this letter, I realize that it is very long and thus hard to
publish. I am very willing to cut it down and send you a shorter version
if you would like. I am pleading with you to publish at least a shorter
version of this letter, because as I stated I think it is very
important. Thank you so much.
My contact info is:
Sara Ahronheim
saraahronheim@hotmail.com
(613) 548-1046 or after April 27 it's (514) 486-8931
97 Brock North
Montreal, Quebec
H4X 2G1
Testimonial on the Anti-FTAA Demonstrations, April 18-22, 2001
April 24, 2001
I want to write about what I saw this weekend in Quebec City. I
volunteered as a Street Medic for the anti-FTAA protests, from Wednesday
afternoon until Sunday afternoon. In the course of these days I saw so
much that I hope to never see again. I treated hundreds of injured
people, got tear gassed, felt the effects of pepper spray, and mostly felt
the kind of turmoil that a peaceful society ought not to experience.
Throughout the event medics were targeted by the police: wherever my
partner and I would be treating people, tear gas canisters would land
right beside us. Some medics got hit with rubber bullets. On Friday, my
friend Sean was on his knees treating a patient in a tear gas cloud on the
front lines, when a canister fell right under his face and exploded. He
inhaled so much of it right there, then he tried to stumble to his feet
only to narrowly miss a canister aimed at his head. Another canister hit
the wall behind him, bounced and hit him in the back, knocking him
flat. A final canister rolled by his face again and exploded. He was
rescued by another medic team and spent the next two days recuperating in
the medic clinic on Cote D'Abraham.
On the front lines on Friday we began treating people as the gassing
began. We kept having to retreat more and more to avoid the clouds of
gas. At one point a canister exploded right next to me. I can't begin to
explain the agony of being hit head on with tear gas first of all it
suffocates you. I began to walk very quickly, barely restraining the
panic, as I coughed and choked. I thought I would die, that any minute my
asthma would kick in. Everywhere we turned there were more riot cops,
more gas, and no safe space to calm down and decompress. My eyes were
fine, being sealed under swim goggles, but my skin was burning like
fire. Finally we managed to find a corner without gas and I got my breath
back. I can't explain the fear that set in afterwards I was so scared to
go anywhere near the cops. But I was in Quebec to do a service treat
injured people who were in pain. Now that I knew what that pain was like,
I also knew I had to go back into the fray. As we walked back into the
chaos, we came upon a girl who had been hit by a canister of gas, which
exploded all over her body. Medics were treating her by stripping off her
clothing and pouring liquids all over her. The poor girl was crying and
screaming, in so much pain. Around us were clouds and clouds of gas, and
cops advancing on all sides. The cops began shooting canisters high into
the air, into the back of the crowd, where we were. In that area were
only peaceful protesters; we were not up by the perimeter fence, and we
were not involved in Black Bloc activities up by the front lines. Our
space was full of individuals being treated for various injuries, and just
trying to recuperate. Yet we were getting hit with dozens of
canisters! We had to watch the sky, hoping the canisters wouldn't land on
us. We had to continually stand in the center of the action, yelling at
people to walk, walk, walk to avoid a mob scene and tramplings. It's so
hard to stand still or walk slowly when tear gas canisters at a
temperature of hundreds of degrees Celsius are being shot straight at you
or above your head.
I broke down so many times in the fracas, because the emotion just ran so
high. I thought I was either going to die or be incapacitated or
arrested. At one point we were in the middle of a city block when a fire
truck came through and the protesters attacked it. At the time I couldn't
understand why, why would they attack firemen, but later on someone helped
me realize that the truck was going to be used as a water cannon, so
people wanted to trash it. Finally the truck went through, after having
all its water emptied and the equipment taken. Later a row of riot cops
formed at one intersection, and lobbed gas canisters to block off the end
of the block. There was no escape route for my partner and I and the
dozen or so protesters still there. Again I began to choke and almost
panic, but we ducked into a driveway. When I saw the pain the others were
in the adrenaline kicked in, and I began to treat them. I didn't even
think about my state, because I didn't feel it once I saw the injured
people that needed my help. We managed to escape through backyards onto
another block.
This weekend was a war zone. I felt like I was in the middle of civil war
and urban warfare. I treated so many burned hands, from people who wore
thick gloves to throw tear gas canisters back at the cops or away from the
crowd, yet got their hands burned. I saw third degree burns. I flushed
hundreds of eyes with water and sometimes with LAW liquid antacid mixed
with water in a 1:1 ratio. When we were safely away from gas, I did
MOFIBA skin decontamination treatments (mineral oil followed immediately
by alcohol) to take away the pain. I treated so many injuries from people
hit by tear gas canisters and also those hit by rubber or plastic
bullets. I saw back injuries, head injuries, broken fingers, leg wounds,
and so much more.
On Friday night we ended up under siege in our medical clinic as the cops
advanced down Cote D'Abraham, firing rounds and rounds of tear gas. The
air was so contaminated that we had to breathe through our vinegar-soaked
bandannas INSIDE the clinic. We had all the lights out and were speaking
in whispers. It was so scary. I thought we were for sure going to be
arrested. Finally we managed to evacuate down the stairs outside, and get
away.
On Saturday night it was a different story. I wasn't there, I was at Ilot
Fleurie under the highway, in the middle of the big party. But I heard
from many medics who were there, and here's the story: The cops advanced
down Cote D'Abraham, shooting tear gas like crazy and shooting rubber
bullets down alleys and driveways. When they reached the clinic they
marched everyone who was in the alley (the decontamination space) out at
gunpoint. This included many medics and their patients, even seriously
injured ones. The cops forcibly removed all the protective gear from
everyone, including gas masks, vinegar bandannas and any goggles, saying
"No more protection for you guys!". They also took all the medical
supplies and equipment that was in the alley or being carried by the
medics. They then marched them, hands in the air and at gunpoint, out
into the gas. They made them walk one way, then changed their minds and
marched them another direction. My friend Sean said that one guy next to
him was hit in the head with a rubber bullet, and the cops wouldn't allow
him to stop and treat the person. Finally they let the group go, without
any arrests. Needless to say, the clinic was evacuated and set up in a
different location.
Other injuries I heard about from medics were: Derek and his partner
treated a guy who was severely beaten by police. He had a skull fracture,
was in serious shock and had a compound leg fracture that made it almost
severed. They waited in clouds of tear gas, with more and more canisters
being hurled at them, for the ambulance. Another medic treated a guy
whose finger was cut off as he tried to scale the wall. One girl's
shoulder was dislocated. I treated a guy who got hit in the back with a
tear gas canister. One guy got hit in the Adam's Apple with a rubber
bullet and underwent an emergency tracheotomy. My teammate Leigh had a
serious asthma attack in the clouds. There were many victims of beatings
at the hands of police serious injuries from police batons. One guy had
his earring ripped straight out of his ear by a riot cop. There were so
many more, I just can't remember them all. And the funniest thing is, the
mainstream media (i.e. the Montreal Gazette) reported only 300 injuries
total hahaha that's laughable, since I must have treated that many
MYSELF!!! And there were probably 50 medics treating that many injuries each!
In the midst of all this chaos and fear and pain there were bright
moments. On Thursday I was present at the start of the Women's March,
which was colourful, beautiful, peaceful, magical. There were huge
puppets and decorated artwork that the women wove into the Wall of
Shame. That night I walked with the Torchlight Parade all the way from
Universite de Laval to Ilot Fleurie. Along the entire route, for many
countless hours, the group sang songs, chanted, drummed and
danced. Slogans such as "This is what Democracy looks like", "Whose
streets? Our streets?", "Ain't no power like the power of the people and
the power of the people won't stop" and "So So So, Solidarite!" were
repeated over and over. There was a festive atmosphere, with many
residents waving from their homes and calling out their support to the
crowd. On Friday things went bad as soon as the next march from Laval
reached the perimeter, but I saw some beautiful things through the clouds
of gas. A group of women joined hands and danced in a slow circle,
singing beautiful songs about peace and nonviolence. They were angelic,
young and old, a space of quiet in the midst of a thunderstorm of
pain. Starhawk led her Pagan group with blue banners and an aura of calm,
straight into the tear gas. I saw them go by and felt safe for just a
moment. I heard later that they went straight through the gas and the
bullets, and sang and danced right by the row of riot cops. Apparently
some were later treated for injuries. Their courage and faith was
inspirational to many, including me. On Saturday down at Ilot Fleurie a
party was going on all day long. In this space, supposedly the "Green
Zone" (safe, non-confrontational, nowhere near the perimeter) had a booth
set up for Food Not Bombs, a group that fed us all weekend long. Everyone
was welcome to come and eat for free any time of day, and there were
containers to eat out of with a washstation nearby that everyone was
expected to wash their dish out in after eating. There was also an art
space set up where artists would fashion their work to use in the
protests. By late afternoon there was a huge fire going in the street,
with people dancing around it. Many people ripped down street signs and
used them as musical instruments a steady beat went on for hours and
hours, late into the night. There was a group dancing to the beat, and
everyone felt so free and beautiful. It felt like the kind of society I
want to live in-at least until the cops arrived and the fear set in. A
whole phalanx of riot cops stood their ground at the top of the stairs
looking down on Ilot Fleurie, and were an intimidating presence for hours
on end (from approximately 5 pm until they gassed us at 2:30 a.m.). Six
choppers circled overhead as well.
Getting back to good moments: while we medics were holed up inside a
shack that was being used as a "Free Space" in Ilot Fleurie (they let us
use it as a makeshift clinic), a guy was brought in with a serious asthma
attack. He had been having the attack for about a half hour, and his
breathing was extremely laboured. I sat him down and attempted to calm
him down, but it only got worse. I could hear the wheezing and feel his
body shaking with every effort, and I knew the pain he was in because of
my own experiences with asthma. I recognized his panic. He also didn't
have his ventolin inhaler. As I sat there by his side I went over my
options in my head and realized I had none. An ambulance wouldn't come
into such a "hot" area, our clinic had just been busted by the cops, and I
had no ventolin or adrenaline for him. So in a moment of clarity I
realized I should try my only other option an acupressure point I had
learned the week before, that supposedly stops asthma attacks
immediately. I admit that before Saturday night I was very skeptical of
these techniques, but when I was confronted with this guy's obvious need,
faith just kicked in. I knew it would work, I just knew it. Maybe
because I believed it so much, maybe because of something else, it
worked. Within seconds of my pressing that point on his hand, his
breathing began to slow down. Within a minute he was calm, and walked out
of the clinic!!! That moment for me was magic without any Western
medical techniques or medication of any sort, I managed to take away this
man's pain. Unbelievable. I began to cry as soon as he walked out I was
so shocked and so relieved.
What I saw this weekend, what I went through, what I saw people going
through it made me realize how much stronger I am than I previously
thought. I kept saying to myself if you can get through this moment, you
can get through the next, and the next, and then whatever life drops on
you. And I got through it all. Without serious injury, without
arrest. But I have to say, I didn't get away scott-free. My heart
hurts. My mind hurts. Most of all, my soul is aching with pain and
disbelief.
I can't believe how people hurt each other. I am shocked at the violence
I saw in the span of two days, Friday and Saturday. I can't believe the
ferocity of chemical weapons, and that a government would allow its police
force to use such arms against its own people. I am angered that a) the
Black Bloc, formed of a handful of protesters at any one point, attacks
the police and that b) the police react by gassing the thousands of
peaceful protesters!!! I fully appreciate the cops need to defend
themselves against the concrete and plywood wielding Black Bloc-ers, but
each of these cops is heavily armed and protected, and a handful of them
could have easily surrounded the Black Bloc and dealt with them instead of
affecting the peaceful demonstrators. Tear gas was being shot
deliberately at the peaceful demonstrators at the back of the crowd!
I know all this because I was there. I am not spreading misinformation or
propaganda of any sort, because I saw the majority of this with my own two
eyes. The information that I heard from other medics is 100% reliable
because I worked with these people all weekend, and much of this was
talked about in our debriefings at the end of every night. No one in
those debriefings was lying, and none of these stories are without two or
more witnesses.
I am sending all of you my story because I believe that the mainstream
media is very biased. I want you all to know what really went down. I
haven't even told you the half of it in this letter, but I've tried to
give at least a taste of the pain I saw all weekend. I am having a very
hard time processing and dealing with this the feelings I am experiencing
are similar to those I had when I came back from the death camps in
Poland. I cannot function adequately right now, and this letter is part
of my healing process. If you have any questions, please ask me. ASK
ME! I want to spread this message to as many people as possible. I want
the world to know what went on in Quebec, how undemocratic and unfair and
immoral and oppressive the situation was.
Yet I also want people to know that a better world is possible - through
the gas and the pain and the fear I also glimpsed the possibility, the
hope, of that new space. People from all walks of life, backgrounds,
ages, races, and more came together in Quebec to fight against corporate
rule, and to fight for basic human rights, environmentalism and fair
trade. We have a vision of a future where things will be better. I don't
stand with the anarchists who want to break this society in order to form
a new one, and I don't stand with the protesters shouting "Revolution" in
the armed sense. But I do stand with the ordinary individuals,
grandmothers, kids, labourers, environmentalists, humans, who want to
change things.
So I went to Quebec City as myself, and I came back as myself but with
eyes washed clear by tear gas and pepper spray. As the song says, "I can
see clearly now the rain has gone I can see all obstacles in my way". I
can see, but at what price to my psyche? I still don't know. I find
myself asking, would it have been better to have stayed home and watched
it all on TV??? It would have saved me the pain and heartache, but it
would also have left me in my little bubble of idealism. Not to say I am
not still an idealistic, romantic, optimistic woman I am but I am also
just a little bit more realistic.
I hope that you have read this far, and if so I congratulate you on being
an open-minded and intelligent individual. Please send this letter on to
whomever you may choose and send my email address along with it so I can
field any questions.
As we said in Quebec City, Be Safe.
Love
Sara Ahronheim
Sara Ahronheim
Biology 2001, Queen's University
"In the end we will conserve only that which we love;
We will love only what we understand;
We will understand only what we are taught."
- Baba Diauorm, on Environmental Education
