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| My VietWill torch relay protest memoir |
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By Ailien 10 April 2008  Yesterday was a beautiful morning in San Francisco, warm and bright. It seems to me that Someone higher up there really meant to support us, the protesters with high spirit coming out to Embarcadero to express our views at the torch relay event.The night before, at the end of the last VietWill conference call meeting, we encouraged and reminded each other, "It's show time." I went straight to bed, trying to get a good night's sleep so that I can get ready for VietWill's first battle. I was nervous and scared as it would be my very first time in life doing this kind of activity. My friends called and wished me safety instead of success. Rumor said there would be violence or even rioting. I was so scared. Then, I received emails from our members in Thailand and Washington D.C. with sincere encouragement; I became empowered. I felt so bad that I had to cancel the discussion sections on Wednesday while my students will have midterm on the very next day. This was a hard choice that I had to make: be with my students in the midterm battle or be with my friends in the first VietWill battle. This was the moment when I had to make that decision about what VietWill meant to me. I had to keep my commitment with VietWill since all of us have been working so hard to prepare for this big day. I can't betray them. I decided to make this choice: "For the love of our motherland, we will fight on," I replied to the encouragement email from Thailand. I worked up at 4 in the morning, trying to put together review materials for my students' midterm so that I can take off to the demonstration in San Francisco. I emailed my students a 28-page long multiple-choice questions and answers, plus few more files of practice examples at around 7 A.M. . . . I woke up when I my phone rang and Jeff, an African American member, called me to get ready for the demonstration. I was shocked and puzzled, then I realized that I had fallen asleep on my laptop right after I clicked "sent" on the email to my students . . . Then somehow, the phone rang again. There was Jeff’s voice one more time on the line telling me to get ready. I panicked and ran to the bathroom to get ready. Sure enough, I fell asleep again without even knowing it right after talking to Jeff the first time. Jeff and I finally got to the protest site on Third Street. I still wasn’t awake yet, but all of my VietWill friends were already there with boxes of t-shirts, banners, posters and brochures. The road was still empty, but all the barricades were put on the premise since night the night before when I drove around the city to familiarize myself with the relay site. We started setting up our station. I asked one member, “How long have you guys been here?” “Almost an hour,” he replied. “What happened? Why is the station not set up?” “Nobody could agree where to set it up.” “Wow, we got to start soon, it's getting late,” I suggested. “I know, but I can't tell people to just do it, we all have different opinions,” he replied. I was anxious as all the other groups were situated already, and here we were still discussing and deciding on what to do. So, I started working, but then things were still not moving. I asked one person: “I thought we were going to move to AT&T park as Thao suggested.” “I don't think it's good idea,” he said. “Why?” He gave a long speech until someone else jumped in and challenged his idea. The whole discussion just kept going and yet no banner was up and no poster was out of the box. I felt I must take action, so I asked the opinionated person: “What's your name?” “It's irrelevant, you don't need to know my name,” he retorted. “You don't have to answer me if you don't want to,” I said. “I just thought it'd be easier to work together if we knew each other's name.” “Let's just tie the banners here, we are late,” he said. “You are right; we are late. Therefore, I'd like everyone to realize that we are not in a meeting room now, nor are we in a training ground. We are in the battle front.” My strong words were met with silence. “I'd like you to forgive me for what I'm about to say,” I continued. “Only Duc and I can make decision for the rest of the day. I'm sorry, but if you are angry, I respect your feelings, and you can beat us up by the end of the day. But, from now on, things will have to keep moving according to my and Duc's decision. Otherwise, we will not make it.” We moved to AT&T park according Thao's suggestion. We put up our banners and started giving out t-shirts. We got interviewed by Current Radio, PirateFreeRadio, and French National Radio. . . and few others. The group directed me to media as a spokesperson for the group. Surrounding us were Chinese demonstrators with big red flags and loud speakers. There are so many of them, but there are only a few of us. I felt a little overwhelmed. But the email from Thailand popped up in my mind and strengthened me. "The VietWill cause isn't just about the number of people present at the demonstration tomorrow. It is also all of us who live faraway and cannot make it to the protest as well. And it's all the people who are not VietWill members but also want the same thing we do. So keep all of us in mind as you defend the Vietnamese motherland tomorrow." We started to scream "Free t-shirt"- "Save Vietnamese Fishermen from China's Navy shooting" over and over again. We were immediately surrounded by Chinese peers, and they started screaming at us "Liar, Liar, Shame on You" and they all screamed together with their loud speakers on. Some of our members got upset, and started arguing back to them, listing all the bad things that Beijing Regime does to the world. I got nervous and decided to take action: “Don't talk back,” I screamed. “Of course, you don't,” the Chinese demonstrators retorted. “Don't talk back,” I urged our members once again. “Vietnam used to be China. Vietnamese is Chinese too. You betray your root. Shame on you. Shame on you. Shame on you. Shame on you . . .” The Chinese demonstrators continued to taunt us. “You have no shame, you can't say anything back, why don't you come out and talk face to face.” “I will not fight with you here no matter what you do and what you say. Vietnamese is a peace loving kind of people. You can say whatever you want, we don't fight but that doesn't mean we are weak or afraid of you. We just need to show the world that China's aggression in South China Sea actually happens here and now, in this protest,” I tried to reason with them. Immediately, these Chinese demonstrators stopped screaming and walked away. Then another Chinese demonstrator walked to me, reaching out and shook my hand. “You know, I'm so shameful about my government. I came out here to support the Olympic game, but I'm very shameful about what our government do to the people in Tibet and now I learn about Vietnamese fishermen. I'm so sorry and shameful. I want to tell you I am very sorry,” he said. I was so touched and not knowing what to say. This was beyond my expectation. I never thought this could happen, so I didn't know how to react. I hugged the man and felt so connected to him. This was a pure hug of a human to a human that truly shared the compassion without borders of anything that separates humans heart and mind. This really was the spirit of Olymic Torch Relay that the Olympic host, the Beijing regime and San Francisco Mayor, Newsom took away from this event. At the relay event, our numbers were few. Our voices were small. But our hearts were changed and strengthened by what we came out to do, and we hope that we also changed a few hearts as we tried to tell the world about the struggle of the Vietnamese people against aggression and attack.
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