By Teo Cheng Wee
Foreign Correspondent
chengwee@sph.com.sg

 

IN KUALA LUMPUR

IN A a quiet lane off Jalan Kampong Attap in downtown KL, I was trying to catch my breath. 

I coughed, spat, coughed again. Flipped up my shirt to clean my eyes. Spat again.

As my vision recovered, I could see a few people doing the same, their eyes smarting from the tear gas canister that was fired in our direction just minutes ago.

A man gestured at me, pointing to my mouth. I couldn't understand what he was saying. Then a lady next to him opened her palm, revealing a small pile of salt, and told me: "Here. Take some. Put it under your tongue." 

Does eating salt help fight off the effects of tear gas? I didn't care. I was in too much discomfort. I pinched some from her palm and flicked it into my mouth. Coughing too much to even be able to say thanks, I just nodded at her.

It was 40 minutes into a rally that was organised last Saturday to protest against the teaching of Maths and Science in English, known commonly here under its acronym PPSMI.

A controversial policy that was pushed through by former premier Mahathir Mohamad to raise flagging English standards, PPSMI had always faced strong objections from certain quarters.

Rural Malays say it makes it doubly hard for their children to master Maths and Science, which the kids already struggle with. And the Chinese, who are very sensitive when it comes to education, charged that it could dilute their Chinese roots.

Before the policy was implemented, Maths and Science were taught in Malay in public schools, and Mandarin and Tamil in Chinese and Indian vernacular schools.

As the government held several roundtable talks last year to see if it should be continued, the issue was brought back to the fore. Several NGOs had already threatened protests, but last Saturday's was the biggest one so far, drawing thousands of people to the event - some from as far as Terengganu, Kedah and Kelantan.

The police had earlier warned people not to take part because there was no permit, and they clearly meant business. Judging from the packets of salt that people were carting around, the protesters probably knew what they would be in for as well. 

Emotions ran high on the day, and a large crowd had swelled the National Mosque by 2pm. The police set up a human wall at the entrance and attempted to stop them, but their small numbers were quickly overwhelmed by the protesters, who pushed past them and poured out onto the streets.

Their plan was to march to the National Palace a few kilometres away and hand a memorandum to the King, asking for the restoration of Malay in teaching Maths and Science.

I followed the protesters as they marched on the roads, chanting "Love live the Malay language". Traffic was brought to a total standstill, causing massive gridlock for about two hours in the capital. 

But the mood remained carnival-like, with many motorists winding down their windows to shake hands or high-five protesters. Others honked loudly to show their approval. One particularly loud one from a lorry got the most applause.

The scenes only got ugly as the crowd, which most reports estimate to be near 5,000-strong, neared the palace. By then, the riot police were ready, standing guard at the palace. That was when the first tear gas canisters were fired, forcing us off the main roads and onto the little lanes to catch our breath.

SOURCE: AP

It didn't take long for everyone to recover from that first episode, and soon people were shouting at others to continue the march. 

This time, the crowd was more wary, carefully eyeballing the police as they approached them a second time. Others picked up rocks, intending to throw them at the police.

SOURCE: AP

We only managed to advance another 200 metres before we saw more tear gas canisters fired, but this time it fell quite a distance up ahead. Okay enough coughing for a day, I thought as I took my handkerchief, wrapped it around my face, and waited, assessing the situation. When it blows over, we'll continue, I figured.

No chance. A few seconds later we saw more canisters flying overhead, going above us. Landing behind us. 

We were caught in the middle. This time there was real pandemonium.

SOURCE: AP

Amidst screams, people were running, shouting at everyone to head back to the mosque. A few brave souls went up to the canisters and flung them away from the people. Those who were blinded were pleading for help to guide them out of the danger zone.

I just ran. My eyes were tearing again and I was coughing hard, but at least I could run. Some of the older folks were struggling and seemed to be choking really badly. People were falling over one another.

Slowly but surely, the crowd gathered again at the little lane off Jalan Kampong Attap. An old man collapsed on the ground, exhausted and wheezing. Nearby a young woman has fainted, and a few people were fanning her.

This time everyone seemed to decide it was too much. After another 15-minute break, most of them started heading back towards the mosque, cursing the riot police under their breath. 

After making sure that this was really the end of the march, I followed them as well, still feeling the uncomfortable after-effects in my chest.

Weary and dishevelled, I must've lost my concentration for a second when I bumped shoulders with a protester in the middle of our 2km walk back. 

We must have been the mirror image of the other person: hair wet, eyes red, clothes dirty. I could only imagine that I looked as ridiculous as the man standing before me, and he probably felt the same. As our eyes met, we both saw the funny side of what we just went through.

He patted me on the shoulders. I nodded back. We smiled.

SOURCE: AP