Windchime Walker's OAS Journal entries

FRIDAY, JUNE 3, 2000
4 AM

It is the youth who are leading us here in Windsor, Ontario. Specifically the OAS Shutdown Coalition. These university students--and experienced activists as old as 36--put on a wonderful teach-in last night at the University of Windsor CAW (Canadian Auto Workers) Student Center. From all over Ontario, Quebec, and the US, clear-thinking, informed, committed, creative young women and men are showing us new ways of organizing protest demonstrations. No "leaders", consensual process, panel discussions instead of presentations, inclusive of all and respectful of diverse backgrounds and experience, a mixture of well-researched critical analysis and creative modes of expression (giant puppets, street theater, music), sophisticated use of the web for disseminating information and calling folks together. Perhaps most
surprising to us older activists, they maintain it is important to have fun even as you try to effect change!

As in countries all over the world, the students are now at the heart of the effort. It started long before Seattle--as we saw in a stunning slide show of activist efforts since the late 1970s--but November 30, 1999 will go down in North American her/history as the defining moment of a new wave of activism. The amazing thing is that these are young people who have only known the excesses of a culture devoted to the material gods. Yet, it is their voices who are crying "No more capitalism!" What hope we white-haired activists felt last night as we were taught by this new generation of activists who have learned so well from our mistakes and our successes. Because in Windsor, as in Seattle and Washington, DC, the older, more established groups--including labour in this heavily unionized auto town--are working together with the OAS Shutdown Group to education and coordinate the people's response to the far-reaching threats of globalization.

My day yesterday started with a phone call from my sister activist, J.S. She warned me of problems folks were already having trying to get across the border from Detroit into Windsor. Apparently a local radio station's van had been strip searched, with the customs officials even bothering to take apart each piece of their equipment. I mentioned my plan to say I was going to a retreat near Kingsville on Lake Erie--where I actually will be going next weekend--and to hide my sign under my scooter in the trunk. J.S. recommended I leave the sign at home because it would surely catch me in a lie if they found it. Much as I resisted her suggestion--after all, I love that sign on which I worked for two days--it became clear that my getting into Canada was more important than having a nifty sign! So I brought it to the women's shelter where some of Detroit's activists might use it for their own protest demonstration on Sunday (they're planning a direct action to shut down the border). The fear that nagged at me all day offered a small taste of how it must feel for my sisters and brothers in such countries as Mexico, El Salvador, Honduras, Nigaragua, Guatemala, Haiti and Cuba when they are forced to come into the USA illegally. For one thing, my gastro-intestinal tract was not a stable companion. Besides, I had little appetite.

After all that, I whizzed through Canadian customs like any other day! A cosmic joke or something, I guess. But last night I did hear of a USA affinity group--folks who have prepared to do direct action together--who indeed were turned back at the border yesterday. I suspect if I'd let my vanity about the sign run the show, I probably would have encountered that hard-nosed border patrol who would have taken my car apart and found it. Ah, the learnings, the learnings!

So today I'll ride my  purple scooter, Firefly, the two miles to the university for an all day teach-in, again coodinated by the OAS Shutdown Coalition. And in case I was still fretful about not having a sign, there will be sign-making opportunities, as well as giant puppet-making too. Tonight we'll all go to the university's Moot Court building to hear Canada's famous activist, Maude Barlow, and Tony Clarke. Then tomorrow everything moves downtown to the Capitol Theater. Another all day teach-in that will include street theater, art exhibits, and who-knows-what-all.

I don't know when I'll be able to add to the journal, but I'll do my best. Today, my inability to sleep (too excited!) led me to get up around 4 AM, so I've had plenty of exra time! Hope this isn't a habit, though, as I'm going to need sleep to keep up a pretty intense pace the next five days. It's now 6 AM and I think I'll crawl back into bed for another couple hours.

11 PM

Home again (to my friend's flat) after a 13 hour day. My mind and heart are so full of the power of people's stories, huge amounts of information, diverse critical analyses, and courageous individuals...that, tired as I am, I can't imagine sleeping just yet. Actually, after 5 hours of panel discussions I did take a nap on a couch in the student center hallway. Of course, even as I slept I was hearing the direct action training role play going on down the hall ("What is your name? Address? Date of birth? What are you doing here? etc., etc.") To be part of this event is beyond describing in words. I feel wrung out like a sweaty bandana. Especially from the stories.

The power in one man's voice as he read aloud in Spanish a poem he wrote honoring his brother who was tortured and savagely killed by the paramilitary in Guatemala. The tears glistening in the eyes of another man, a native of Stoney Point, ONT, as he described the murder of his native activist brother, Dudley George, by Ontario Provincial Police. The calm-voiced young refugee who told through an interpreter of the 10-month student strike he helped lead at the National Autonomous University of Mexico. His words: "The struggle never ends." The 70+ woman activist professor from Massachusetts who said to me at lunch, "People ask how I can keep doing what I do, and I say how could I do otherwise? It's who I am." When I asked how long she's been an activist, she said, "Since I was 12." At that age she was already working: "I come from a very poor family." Her first action was a union uprising at a Pennsylvania mill near where she lived. She did admit to getting more tired these days. "After Windsor", she said, "I'm taking the rest of the month off!" Our conversation was cut short when the young men in her affinity group (whom she had driven the 12 hours from Massachusetts to Windsor) started pouring into her car. "Sorry, but I've got to go help cook dinner." The OAS Shutdown Coalition not only organized the teach-in, direct action training, and puppet-making, but worked with Food Not Bombs to serve a free hot vegan lunch and dinner to everyone in the courtyard outside the student center today!

Well, I think it's now time for bed. Tomorrow is another huge day with a teach-in from 10 AM to 8 PM at the Capitol Theater downtown. I suspect our numbers will swell as anticipation rises for Sunday and Noam Chomsky's talk, followed by our massive rally and march as the OAS delegates prepare to open their general assembly. What a hope-filled time! It's hard to remember how despairing and isolated I have sometimes felt as an activist in the past. This is a new moment in her/history. How grateful I am to be part of it.
 

MONDAY, JUNE 5, 2000

                                       The people united
                                   will never be defeated.
                                       The people united
                                     will never be defeated.

La lucha. The struggle. The struggle for justice, economic reform, human rights, and the people's voice to be heard. That is what we are involved in here in Windsor, Ontario as the OAS (Organization of American States) General Assembly convened yesterday. Thousands of student protesters, aging activists and union workers took to the streets in marches and rallies, direct action and solidarity support. Outnumbered dramatically by 1000s of Windsor police, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP), and Ontario Provincial Police (OPP) in full riot gear, the protesters (to my knowledge) remained non-violent...even in the face of pepper spray attacks by the police. Two young women were pepper-sprayed directly in their mouths as they tried to hang a banner on the security fence surrounding the 6-block OAS meeting site. 41 student activists were arrested, only 20 of whom were undertaking direct action (trying to block a bus believed to be carrying OAS delegates into the meetings). The others were picked up arbitrarily, some believe because of camera surveillance that had identified certain students as known activists. One such occurrence happened as my friend P.N. and I were outside the Capitol Theater late Saturday afternoon.

We had just finished attending an all-day teach-in sponsored by the CLC (Canadian Labour Council). We'd heard the voices of women from Peru, Columbia, Mexico and the Caribbean, seen Zapateatro, a guerilla theatre troupe show images of the Mexican government's violence against the Maya people of Chiapas, experienced panel discussions on the economic disparities in the Americas, the role of multinational corporations in the OAS and its decisions, the growing movements of global resistance.

As we walked outside at about 6 PM, P.N. and I were delighted to find our student activist friends from the OAS Shutdown Coalition milling about as they ate the free dinner (prepared by Food Not Bombs) being served in an orderly fashion from huge pots on the sidewalk. There was an air of excitement and anticipation of tomorrow, Sunday, when all our preparations would turn to the streets. Of course, we also noticed the helicoptors overhead, ranks of riot-geared police across the street, at nearby street corners, cruising in open-backed trucks and standing on rooftops. By then, though, this show of force was becoming familiar to us all. How quickly one becomes used to living in a police state!

Suddenly the mood changed. A young man who had helped me out on several occasions was scooped up and carried away in a police car, arrested for juggling in the street. "Police state, police state" chanted the crowd. Someone beside me said he was actually picked up because the brown Suburban at the corner was taking digital photos of everyone in the crowd and matching them up with "criminal" records. Apparently, he had been released from jail at an earlier protest under a probation agreement that he not participate in any demonstration for a year.

Now an important part of this whole story to realize is that being arrested for what is called "direct action", or civil disobedience, is to be arrested for a nonviolent act like sitting down in a street to block traffic...as we saw 1000s of folks doing in Seattle and DC. It is based on the tradition of resistance of Gandhi in India, and Martin Luther King, Jr. in the US., among others. Direct action is not a spontaneous action, rather one that is carefully planned and involves extensive training. Individuals do not engage in direct action by themselves. Affinity groups are formed--often months ahead of a planned action--to study the issues and determine how they can best work together and support one another. A medic is trained on how to respond to pepper-spray, tear gas and beatings. A legal support person learns how to offer  appropriate help when his/her sisters or brothers are arrested. A communications liason assures that all parties stay closely connected and informed during the actions.

In Windsor, not only were there 3 days and nights of teach-ins to study the OAS and its role in the Americas, but extensive direct action trainings as well. Each affinity group had a representative at the Spokes Council gatherings that convened at least once a day (twice yesterday). Each affinity group on the street had a person with a walkie-talkie and map to keep in touch with what was happening with all other affinity groups. Yesterday, my "affinity friend", M. M., and I happened upon an affinity group's meeting on the streets, as they were trying to determine what to do next. I was so impressed with their respectful consensus approach. Not until everyone was comfortable with the decision did they proceed.

This is clearly no rule by anarchy, as some would have us believe.

Perhaps the most powerful moment came yesterday afternoon during the CAW (Canadian Auto Workers)-organized rally at the OAS meeting site security fence by the river. There were 3 so-called "heads" to the resistance "dragon" in Windsor yesterday: 1) CAW bus loads of perhaps 1000 union workers and leaders from around the province of Ontario who arrived that day for a massive march and rally; 2) Human Rights activists who were attending a morning panel discussion with Noam Chomsky and Latin American speakers that was put on at the Capitol Theater by the liberal COC (Maude Barlow and Tony Clarke's Council of Canadians); 3) the OAS Shutdown Coalition, made up predominantly--though not exclusively--of university students and men and women in their 20s to 30s, some of them local and many from other parts of Ontario, Quebec and the US. Each group--certainly with its own agenda and
preferred means of expression--had been working together for months to insure that the protest demonstrations presented a united front.

I had been at the Capitol Theater since 10 AM Sunday for the panel discussion involving Noam Chomsky and Latin American speakers. It was so well organized that each person on the stage and in the audience was given a set of headphones through which interpretations of English-to-Spanish or Spanish-to-English were simultaneously broadcast, so that the presenters could speak in their preferred language. As wonderful as it was, by 12:30 PM I could no longer take in another word of information. Since Thursday evening, I'd attended at least 18 hours of teach-ins, meetings and panel discussions! I was ready to take my scooter out on the road. The CAW rally and march was to have started at the Windsor City Hall plaza at noon. When the Human Rights panel discussion ended about 12:30 PM, those folks would walk a block to Ouelette Avenue and join the CAW march to assemble for another rally at the river. Of course, as had been happening all week, the panel discussion got started late, so things were backed up a bit. When I left the Capitol Theater at 12:30 PM, two speakers still needed to present, and then there would be questions/comments from the floor.

The morning that had begun with a gray chill had turned into a perfect sunny
afternoon. When I approached the City Hall plaza, for as far as I could see were crowds of men, women and children in union t-shirts and jackets, with Local number banners flying in the breeze. I scooted up closer to the podium in time to hear the final two speakers. I'm finding my scooter seems to part the waters in large gatherings of people! Then they announced the start of the march and invited women and children to lead the parade. Another moment of mad scooting back to the street, and we were off. Very soon, I found a sister in a wheelchair--M. from Toronto--and we wheeled together down the streets of Windsor. Cameras of all kinds were everywhere, from handheld video to press-held multi-lens to shoulder-held cameras with TV call letters on the side. M. and I seemed to be a favorite target.

On our march to the river, we passed 3 blocks of Ontario Provincial Police in riot gear standing shoulder-to-shoulder inside the fenced-in OAS delegates area. Once outside he highly-guarded entrance, my friends and I happily connected and stood to the side of the roped-off-and-CAW-marshall-protected rally podium. Perhaps 20 minutes into the speeches, I heard voices rising in the crowd and saw the giant puppets moving through to the front, carried by the OAS Shutdown folks. It was then that the two young women were pepper-sprayed trying to hang a banner on the fence. A policeman came over to me (there were some stationed at the rally too), leaned down and said, "I think you'd better go under the rope there in case things go bad." I asked what he meant and he answered, "The crowd might start shoving back from the fence and you could be caught." So the CAW marshalls held up the ropes and I scooted up to the front of the podium. The best seat in town!

The CAW leader spoke warning words into the microphone, saying that the union people were down here for a non-violent rally and didn't appreciate the students coming in and disrupting things. Then a spokeswoman for the students came up to the mic and said, "We're all here for the same purpose. We're non-violent too and need to work together." Things were feeling very tense. And then Marion, the rally moderator (a member of my Windsor women's book group) did the most inspired thing. She called on Michael St. George, an Afro-Canadian drummer/poet to perform. Well, he literally saved the day! Not only with his drumming, inviting us to clap together, and reciting his political rap poetry...but by his peacemaking words and presence. The rally continued with one voice. In fact, at its conclusion, we were all encouraged to stand with the young people in solidarity as they performed whatever actions were planned.

So for the next several hours, my friends and I--and finally just M. M. and I on feet and scooter, and P.N.--followed the young people around the 6-block compound. We saw kids and even a journalist with blistered-red faces who had been pepper-sprayed. We saw 100s of riot-geared police in formation on most street corners. We heard the whup-whup-whup of helicoptors always overhead. We saw press and media running here and there trying to follow the action. Because the Shutdown folks were smart. They dispersed like swarms of flees (Naomi Klein's metaphor from Latin America), making it hard for the police to know what to expect.

For instance, P.N. on her bike heard from a Windsor friend that a group of perhaps 20 young people were being held handcuffed outside the vacant Canadian Tire building ( a temporary holding area for arrested protesters)...and that they had all been pepper-sprayed. As she told the Shutdown folks who were gathered in the 100s by the riverfront, M.M. and I walked and scooted the 2 blocks to offer support. How the faces on those kids seemed to light up as we shouted encouragement to them, and started protest chants and songs! By the time the 100s of young protesters had reached the holding area, the police were quickly moving the arrested students inside the building. But not before they saw they were not alone!

My personal high moment of the entire week came next. The Shutdown students with their giant puppets then mounted a march to the river where the CAW rally had been held hours before. By now it was close to 5 PM. It was clear that this was the final action of the day, so the police blocked traffic so we could march in the streets. M.M. and I, who had been hanging back to support the students but not be arrested ourselves, decided to join their march. By happenstance, we were beside two young women who were drumming on large water containers hung around their necks, with whistles in their mouth. I too had a whistle that I'd used liberally at the earlier rally and march. This time, the 3 of us set up a whistle/drum rhythm that electrified the marchers and those watching from the sidewalks. That was a precious time indeed; one I'll remember all my life.

When we reached the river, the crowd just hung together for awhile, sitting down, writing slogans with sidewalk chalk, and drinking any water that was available. It was then that I realized my scooter's former name, Firefly, no longer fit. She had become La Lucha. A member of the struggle.

So today La Lucha rests while I do my part to witness to what has happened here in Windsor, Ontario. As the multinational corporation-dominated OAS delegates meet behind fenced-in barricades, protected by 1000s of police...the people have united, never to be defeated.
 

TUESDAY, JUNE 6, 2000

Home again. I must say I'm experiencing a dose of culture shock. As though I've traveled to another country (I did), been changed on a deep level (I was), and then returned to a place that seems the same as it was five days ago (it is). Only five days ago! So much has happened within and around me in five days. Every part of my being has been touched. My mind...packed with more new information than anytime since grad school 34 years ago. My heart...torn wide open by story after story of peoples' lives in all parts of the Americas, as well as the pepper-spraying and arrests of my sister and brother protesters on Sunday. My body...exulting in the refound freedom of going where I want to go when I want to go on my glorious scooter, La Lucha. My spirit...deeply grateful for such a tangible sense of community with sisters and brothers all over the Americas, and specifically with the inspiring young and committed older activists I was in solidarity with these past five days. The faces of my unofficial affinity group, P.N., J.S. and M.M., come immediately to mind.

It will take time to assimilate what has happened. For now, all I know is that I am changed. How that change will manifest itself, or even what it means, I can't say. But my gratitude doesn't need any answers. It just is.

Last night was my final act of protest. A fitting one. A non-candlelight vigil.
"Non-candlelight" because it was such an evening of wind, rain and chilling cold that no candle would have stayed lit. Nonetheless, 40 hardy folks covered in ponchos and rain gear gathered in a circle beside the river. A circle on the grass in front of that ever-guarded security fence. Watched over by 8 police assigned to protect the OAS delegates from this prayerful group of nuns, priests, pagans, atheists, factory workers, Marxists, USA activists, teachers, Central American refugees, disabled, high school students and grandparents. Because absolutely nothing else was going on, we were surrounded by dozens of TV cameras, radio microphones, and press photographers. Strange.

My friend J. brought the events of the weekend all together in her reflections on the people of the Americas. J.S. who has spent more than two decades working and living among the poor of Mexico. A nun committed to social justice in every action of her life.

J.S. spoke of the tree of death with its roots of economic exploitation, its trunk of alienation and its branches of unfair banks, landlords and corporate control. Then the tree of life with its roots of peace, its trunk of community and its branches of good health care, education, economic reform and human rights. Guess to which tree she likened the OAS, WTO, NAFTA and the proposed FTAA!

J.S. then shared the story of a woman who was part of her base community in Juarez. How one day this quiet woman came to their circle and said, "I've just been to the radio station to complain about the fire hazard here in our colonia (neighborhood)." Apparently there was a 2-story pile of crushed cars from the US close to their houses. Copper was being burned off those junk cars to be used elsewhere. Beside that pile was one, and soon two, huge storage tanks of butane gas. And nearby were stacks of oil-covered telephone poles lying on the ground. One day those telephone piles burst into flame. The old US fire engine barely managed to put out the fire in time to save the butane storage tanks from exploding. Such an explosion would have destroyed their neighborhood.

After her complaint to the radio station, nothing changed. So the women agreed to go to the TV staton that allowed people to make public complaints for a half-hour period once a week. They left the colonia at 4:30 AM the morning of the show to get a good place in line. Once there, they discovered the man who owned the TV station also owned the storage tanks of butane gas. They were not allowed on the program.

The women did not give up. They composed a letter and asked J.S. to drive them to the owner's home. Protected by a guard and enclosed by a high security fence--much like the OAS delegates in Windsor?--the owner's mansion seemed like a fortress. One of their members, a woman in her 70s, said, "Give me the letter. I'll take it to the guard." She proudly walked over to the guardhouse and said in a loud voice, "See that the Señor receives this letter!"

For months they heard nothing. Then while J.S. was home in the US for a visit, the women gathered with other women and proceeded to organize a human blockade of the entrance to the crushed cars and butane storage tanks.

After a while they noticed the pile of junk cars gradually getting smaller and smaller, until one day it was completely gone. The storage tanks of butane gas remained, but the crushed cars were gone.

J.S. reminded us chilled folks standing in that circle in front of police guards and security fences and off-limits meetings of powerful men, that such a victory as her women experienced has happened here as well. Even as we stand before evidence of the tree of death in multinational corporate control of the OAS, even as we live in a police state surrounded by riot gear and fences, even as our young protesters are pepper-sprayed and arrested...even so, we must celebrate the strength of our community, the trunk of the tree of life. For as long as sisters and brothers stand together to insist that all peoples of the Americas--and the world--have a voice in decisions that affect all of our lives and the life of our planet, we have won a victory. And victory deserves celebration.

So a dozen of us old activists did just that. We walked, biked and scooted up to a Windsor coffee house to share one last night of hot drinks and warm conversation. Celebrating community and commitment and especially the art of acting on one's beliefs.
 

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 7, 2000

The following is a copy of the response I sent a friend today after receiving her email with the subject, "Your optimism". She was writing after having read my journal entries regarding my participation in the protest demonstrations at the OAS general assembly in Windsor, Ontario.

Dear R.

Of course, there is more than one way to look at things. After 20+ hours of hearing the truth spoken by sisters and brothers from the south, academics like Noam Chomskey in the north, critical analysts like Maude Barlow and Tony Clarke in Canada, and personal stories from all parts of the Americas, I would hardly call myself optimistic. I am a hope-filled realist. And one who has come from places of deep despair over the situation in today's world. But staying in that negative place makes me sick, so I choose to go elsewhere. I go to the faces, hearts, minds and commitment of the youth I was with this weekend. Of course, they are a small minority. That is not the point. They are here in this place and time and their numbers are growing. I find that inspiring!

So what if the media and press ignored our demonstrations and teach-ins! Of course, we know who is behind their choices of what is the news-that-is-fit-to-print/show. The very multinational corporations who control the OAS. What was significant about Windsor, ONT and this OAS meeting was its mammoth pre-emptive police and security presence. Hey, our numbers may be small, but somebody's scared of us!

I never expect my protesting to change a thing in the world's way of doing business, or of using weapons. I do it because if I don't, I betray my very be-ing. I act because I have to act, not because I want to act. If I stay at home, moaning and groaning about the state of the world--which I have done many times in my life--I might as well just give it up.

The hope I feel is not an external thing. It has nothing to do with the way world events seem to be proceeding. My feelings of hope are not the same as optimism. To me, optimism is looking at the bright side of things. After all I saw and learned and experienced these past five days, I'd be a fool to just see the silver lining to those big black clouds of globalization and ever-increasing control by multinational corporations.

My hope is within. It springs from a deep knowing that whatever happens, there is a strong community of solidarity that is now touchng the generations that follow. Until recently, protest demonstrations that I attended were more and more gray-headed and smaller and smaller in numbers. I was afraid we were a dying breed. Well, now I know the struggle will continue beyond our lifetimes. It will never die. Even in North America, the land of the "free".

Now that is cause to rejoice!

Thanks, R., for your words that triggered this passionate response. And my scooter's new name? La Lucha? It means "the struggle" in Spanish. It is the word our sisters and brothers to the south use to describe their never-ending work for justice, freedom and the equal distribution of resources. The name Firefly was nice, but ended up being too lightweight to describe the power of this machine that carried me into the heart of the struggle on her purple back.

love and blessing

Patricia

©2000 Patricia Lay-Dorsey. Please use with attribution.