“Don’t go to the monument. I’m serious,” that was what he told me every time we had spent together in recent months. It still stuck into my head until now.
“Why?” I asked him even though I knew what he was going to say, “It’s dangerous.” However, I had listed stuff I would bring on that day already. I opened Twitter, and again, the news reported that a group of pro-democracy protesters was arrested. This reminded me of an anonymous saying, _“in this country, you can say anything complied with the law, but your life may not be guaranteed.” _
“It’s too dangerous for you.” He said, trying to reduce the speed, then parked the car somewhere I could not recognise. It was raining heavily and sometimes, out of the blue, a flash of lightning just burst out of the dark grey afternoon sky, splitting it into two. I hated the rainy season the most.
Today’s sky was clear. No clouds. No sign of rain. Only the unexpected heatwave and the crowd of people coming from many places my friends and I could not imagine. We talked to a group of aunties who had been protesting for almost 30 years and saw groups of high school students with black tape covering their names and school names just because lately, there were students who were threatened by those grown-up-so-called persons. We were embraced by those unfamiliar faces whom we never knew each other but had the same goal.
“It could be thousands,” one of my friends said.
“Not surprised. Look what they’ve done to people.”
“Hey. Look at me,” his voice was full of tension. At this time he looked even more serious than ever. He stared at me as if trying to understand whatever that was inside me. “Hear me out,” he stopped for a while to make sure I did listen to him. “This is not what you think it would be. It’s not safe to be there. They can...”
“They can do what, dad?” I interrupted him. “It’d be peaceful unless they choose violence.” That was what had happened to this country for a long time, long before I was born. I could not control my voice, so I tried to avoid seeing my dad’s face.
“We all are here with peace, with pieces of paper, with nothing else but our bodies and souls that have been oppressed for years. But look at them. Look at how they use our money to buy weapons not to protect us but to kill us! How many people have been killed just because they had different viewpoints against them?” The voices of the crowd rose after the woman who was a leader of the labour union finished. Some clapped their hands. Some shouted, “real democracy!”
“It just won’t make this country any better at this moment,” he disputed. At this time his voice sounded offensive, which left me speechless as if what we had done so far never meant anything to him. He shook his head a bit and laid back to the car seat.
“If we don't do something, we will stick into this failing country. And we won’t let this happen. We are here to make changes. To make this country a better place where we are all equal!, where there is freedom of speech. Where our bodies won't be filled with cement,” said one of the protest leaders.
“At least we do something. Do you want to live in a place like this, dad? Don’t you want your son and your wife, or even yourself to have better lives?”
“I do. I really wish I could. But you don’t understand the current situation. It's more complicated than you think.” I did not know whether he or I—maybe both of us—did not understand what was happening any more.
From the far left, I could see lines of uniformed police officers standing. Beside them was the army with guns. I did not know whether I could be relieved knowing they would protect us if the situation became even more perilous or anxious that they would turn the weapons to us.
“Then who makes the country to be like this?”
“I...” He could not finish his sentence. Actually, we all knew the answer.
“ECONOMIC RECESSION! BUYING SUBMARINES! NO FREE SPEECH! NO LIBERTY! CORRUPTED GOVERNMENT! INJUSTICE! FAKE DEMOCRACY!” The protest leaders were still shouting, intensifying the feelings of indignation of people.
“Don’t tell me you will take their order no matter how crazy it is, dad.” I knew it sounded stupid, but looking back to history, many people really did.
As the demonstration kept going for six hours, here, there seemed to be a sign of movement. The situation was so chaotic I could not grasp anything. The uproar was everywhere.
“No more dictatorship!”
“Don’t be slaves to dictatorship!”
“I...” A silence of awkwardness circulated inside the car. “Please just don’t go.” We had not had any conversation since then. Still, there was the never-ending lightning and thunder as we drove back home.
I was pushed through the crowd; I could not see my friends any more. The madness seemed to be unstoppable. Here, as I was standing, was overwhelmed by millions of fractured, incomprehensible noise. Unconsciously, I was pushed into the front line. In front of us was an endless line of police officers, with a shield for each of them. We stared at each other as if we were telepathing to negotiate the situation. Suddenly, I could not hear anything at all but my heart bouncing out of my chest. I could feel my temples and sweat in my face. I rubbed my face and closed my eyes, trying to ease my mind—but failed. A flash of memory came up, _“Don’t go to the monument...it’s too dangerous.” _
As I opened my eyes, I saw my dad with a brown uniform as usual, but this time he was standing on the other side. “I wish you still don’t forget what humanity is,” was the last thing I remembered telling him. Unexpectedly, I could smell the heavy rain coming to all of us.
