That was no riot, but it was a group of relatively well-organized men, dangerous, armed and angry, and looking for a target. No one spoke much on the way back to my Iraqi friend’s home with his wife and four children. But every now and then I bleated ‘Sorry’.
DO I STAY OR DO I GO?
The Al Jazeera correspondent Hoda Abdel-Hamid told me: ‘Crowds in general are not good. Crowds in a war zone are worse. There was a huge bomb in Iskandaryia and 55 people were killed. It was at a time when we could still move around, so we found a spot for the satellite. We went to the police station where the car bomb had hit. I remember a kid was there, waving a severed hand around in our faces. While we were there a car went past spraying bullets. I ran with the crowd. In all the confusion, a man shoved his hands down my pants. At the end of the road there was barbed wire. The man was pushing me and I was stuck in the barbed wire. Our security guard pulled me out. But you can’t rely on that. You should always make sure you know your escape routes.’
The best advice is to avoid street protests at all costs. Of course, that’s not always possible; sometimes they run into you. And sometimes you might join a small peaceful protest that turns into a riot. You might be in an ambulance waiting to deal with the fallout nearby. You might be involved as a protester when it all goes wrong.
If there is one piece of advice that stays with you from this chapter, it has to be ‘Stop and think before you go’. Even if you are alone, it’s not just yourself that is heading into the line of danger. There are people at home waiting for you to come back, your dog, your colleagues – they all need you to stay safe.
Marc Laban, co-founder of AsiaWorks Television, recalls a violent episode in Thailand: ‘In May 1992 all hell broke loose on the streets of Bangkok. A massive anti-government rally exploded into several nights of extreme violence. Unable to disperse the crowds with a show of strength, soldiers opened fire on protesters, killing dozens. The stand-off continued for several nights. I was struck by the protesters’ resolve to stand firm: at one point they even drove a hijacked city bus directly at the soldiers. It was the first time I had ever seen anything like this, and I learnt pretty quickly that it is important to put yourself on the sidelines when bullets are flying, and rely on a long lens to record the moment.
‘Before I moved to Thailand a colleague had joked, “Going to Asia, eh? You’re gonna see a lot of dead bodies.” I had laughed nervously at the time. I wasn’t laughing now. No journalists were killed but plenty were hurt, mostly by flying debris. An AP journalist nearly lost her eye when she was hit with a ball-bearing.’
There is no safety in numbers when it comes to a riot. You might feel invisible in the crowd, but that mass is a powerful force and it can quickly turn, especially against a stranger. You cannot predict the whims of a crowd, but when it moves it will move together.
RIOT PRECAUTIONS
Journalist Tim Albone had a near squeak in Afghanistan: ‘My translator and driver saved my life one day in Kabul. We were driving to the scene of an accident involving an American truck – the brakes had failed and it had run over and killed some Afghans, and an angry mob had gathered. As we got close to the scene, we could hear gunshots and I sensed trouble. Tahir, my translator, told us to lock the car doors. Only moments later our car was surrounded by a group of men shouting and trying to open the doors and pull us out. Tahir ordered Azad, the driver, to floor it, which he did. As soon as we broke free from the crowd, Tahir started laughing. When I asked him what was so funny, he said: “You should have heard what they were saying. They wanted to skin you alive.” Tahir’s quick thinking might have been a life-saver, but he had a terrible sense of humour.’
/ANTI-RIOT WEAPONS
When assessing the risks ahead, you need to think about anti-riot weapons and the possibility of being hit by them. Understanding what you are up against should help you to stay calm and decisive if you ever find yourself face to face with armed riot police.
Water-cannons will knock you off your feet if they hit you directly, and can cause serious injury. Get out of their way, steadily and without drawing unnecessary attention to yourself. If you cannot avoid being hit, stay low and roll into a ball with your back to the weapon.
Rubber bullets come in many shapes and sizes. Some of the smaller ones can cause major injury and even death if fired at close quarters (less than 40 metres). Well-trained riot police should aim for your legs, but if they miss and hit your eye, the bullet will blind you. If you have ever played paintball you will know how much it can hurt to be hit with a non-lethal weapon, and these ain’t no paintballs – many of them are actually rubber-coated steel bullets. You should be able to tell if the troops are firing rubber bullets because there will be a small, bucket-like container attached to their weapons instead of a normal magazine of bullets. There may also be a large structure attached to the end of their gun. But don’t wait around to see if they are firing real bullets or not. There is no way to predict what type of ammunition is being fired at you. Get away from them as quickly and calmly as you can.
Chemical weapons, such as tear gas, are often used to disperse riots. In fact, exposure to tear gas is also part of British army training – to help you learn how to put on your nuclear/biological/chemical weapons kit under stress within 10 seconds – and also to familiarize you with the effects of tear gas and learn how to cope with them. So there you are, standing in a dark hut listening to the short, nervous breaths of the soldier beside you, and suddenly the gas comes on. A sergeant wearing his gas mask shouts at each of us to sing the nursery rhyme ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ before we can put ours on. By then it’s too late. The gas is in your now-weeping eyes, your sour-tasting mouth, making your skin itch and breathing difficult. But soon it’s over. We are outside breathing fresh air. A minute later we are shoved back inside for another round of spluttered singing, until no one in that tiny little room shows any sign of panic. We are all resigned to our painful fate. The training worked. What I learnt first of all is that contact lenses are evil after exposure to tear gas. Even worse, you have to put a contaminated finger in your eye to take out the piece of plastic that now feels like a shard of glass. Your nose will run, your mouth will water. You will cough and you might feel dizzy.
TEAR GAS AND PEPPER SPRAY TIPS
For the rest of my year in the army I was still able to feel a burn in my eyes every time I put on my gas mask for training. Tear gas and pepper spray will stick to everything exposed, and also to anything you touch, before you manage to wash it all off. You might find yourself feeling the effects for days afterwards if you don’t decontaminate before entering your home. These weapons are toxic, but the immediate effects of tear gas will wear off after half an hour in fresh air.
I am told that the pain from pepper spray is more instant and intense, and that you might also feel a strong sense of anger. Pepper spray is much harder to remove from the skin. In a high concentration, it can also cause first-degree burns if left on the skin. In a normal concentration, most of the painful effects should disappear within two hours of moving away from direct exposure.
/CROWD CONTROL
It is worth remembering that crowds are not always going to be hostile. Some come in peace. If you are in a position of authority, they might be more afraid of you than you are of the thousands of them.
Samantha Bolton remembers: ‘Refugee crowds without leaders can be organized, especially when in shock. We were the first to see over a million refugees come over the border in Goma after the massacre in Rwanda in 1994. They streamed over in silence in just two hours. They were like dumbstruck cattle and went just where I told them as I was the only figure of authority around. The key is not to be afraid, and to pick out a possible leader if you need someone to negotiate with.’
/BODY ARMOUR OR FLAK JACKETS
You put on your underwear, you put on your trousers and a shirt, then on goes the body armour. The longer you wear it, the heavier it gets. If you are running around, it gets sweaty and
dirty. If it doesn’t fit very well, it will start to rub and bruise, and then – ouch! – it really hurts.
I wore a flak jacket for 21 days in a row while on exercise with the army. We were told we had to sleep in it, so we did. My arms and hips were bruised for another three weeks afterwards. By the time I emerged from my armoured cocoon, what little need I had for a bra had disappeared and instead I found a washboard stomach.
There is a big debate over whether civilians should wear body armour at all. People working for NGOs often don’t as they say the logo on their cars and shirts are protection enough.
Some people, like my colleague Zeina Khodr, are fatalistic: ‘I don’t believe in armour. If it is your day to die, it is your day. And also it’s important not to look different from the people around you.’ Others reinforce at least part of this view. Qais Azimy says: ‘I don’t wear expensive clothes any more – it just draws attention. I try to look more like a local. Body armour too just puts you more in danger.’
THE CORRECT WAY TO WEAR A FLAK JACKET
Many even question whether it will save them if they are shot. It is a pain to wear, but feels pretty flimsy when you know it is supposed to defend you from bullets and shrapnel. Captain Sayed Hashim told me: ‘The Afghan National Army did not used to have helmets and body armour, but now we are getting more – almost all of us have armour. We wear it, but I know it doesn’t make any difference to whether we survive or not. That is Allah’s will.’
Some people, such as Nick Toksvig, feel the advantages of wearing flak jackets far outweigh the negative aspects: ‘The jacket isn’t difficult to wear. I have seen it save someone’s life when they were shot directly in the chest. At the very least it will hold you together if you are hit. A cameraman I know was working with his flak under a shirt. He was looking straight down the camera and someone came up and stabbed him from behind. The attacker hit the jacket, his hand slid down the knife and he actually ended up cutting himself. My friend ran for his life.’
Shelley Thakral is pragmatic about wearing body armour: ‘It’s just a necessary part of my kit. Not just for me, but for everyone around me. Of course, you have to know when to wear it, when you don’t stand out. But wherever you are, it is another layer of security. As a journalist, I am exposed, so I need to take extra precautions. The risks of not wearing it are not worth taking.’
Leith Mushtaq says: ‘It seems pointless to wear the body armour, but wear it anyway so that no one can accuse you of not taking care of yourself if you are hurt. However, don’t wear the body armour if you are going to be a target as a result of it.’
If you are lucky, your body armour will be like a jacket, something to put on when you are leaving the house. But you might find yourself wearing it for hours and days and weeks on end.
Sherine Tadros told me: ‘I’ve had big problems with flak jackets. I’ve tried different sizes with different plates, but they all have one thing in common – they are damned heavy. I found wearing one for a day or two, as I did in Lebanon, just about bearable, but in Gaza, for 23 days, it felt like I was carrying the kitchen sink on my back.’
Sherine offers the following ideas to reduce post-flak back pain:
• When you are taking the jacket off or putting it on, lie it down on something and slip in and out of it rather than trying to lift it over your head.
• Sitting down while wearing your flak feels better than standing, but it is still putting a lot of pressure on your back and shoulders. To avoid this, manoeuvre yourself into a sitting position that takes the bulk of the weight off – perhaps by resting most of the weight of the flak on a table, or holding it up using your chair.
• In the absence of anyone around you willing and able to do so, give yourself back and shoulder massages when you take the flak off, and stretch your muscles.
Body armour is not exactly high fashion, and Laura Tyson points out: ‘Women rarely look good in a flak jacket. If you have to wear one, make sure your clothes are dark-coloured and fairly tight-fitting, or else you look like you’re going to an embassy fancy dress party.’
Then there’s the helmet – a bad hair day for everyone, but pretty essential. Marc Laban advises: ‘In an urban riot situation, wear a helmet. One of my photographer friends improvised, tying the ubiquitous Thai street cooking pot on his head.
‘These days it is standard practice for broadcasters to send their teams out with helmets and flak jackets, but there are still a lot of freelancers who can’t afford proper protection. In that case, buy a motorcycle helmet – or a cooking pot. They’re not going to stop a round from an M-16, but they might save you from serious injury.’
If you do decide to wear a flak jacket, make sure it’s up to the correct specifications. Look inside for a label with the level of protection specified. The plates should be at least level IV, which will protect against a standard high-velocity bullet.
Ensure your jacket is checked regularly; they do not last forever, and the plates can fracture if dropped or mistreated. The same goes for your helmet and goggles, which again should meet certain specified standards.
When it comes to IEDs, car bombs, random shootings and mortar attacks, I believe that everyone should take every precaution they can to stay alive, even if that means staying at home for years on end or getting the hell out of the country like I did. I want to die for a good reason if I can’t die from natural causes. Imad Shihab
6/ First aid and Emergency Medicine
It is difficult to keep a reality check, to stay sane in a place with so many uncertainties. You get a headache in London and it’s just a headache. But get one in Africa and you start to think it’s dengue fever or malaria. You have to learn to manage that fear. The fear and worry is often far worse than the headache itself. Marc DuBois
Readers Of This Book have probably been through some sort of basic medical training, but might not realize it. Whether it was putting a bandage on a teddy bear’s broken arm or watching hours of Grey’s Anatomy because you fancied one of the doctors, some sense of first aid has rubbed off. The problem is working out which bits are fact and which are fiction.
The good news is that common sense almost always prevails. It’s just a little more complicated in a war zone or during a disaster. Time and limited resources mean that you will be forced to prioritize. Say, for example, you don’t have a stretcher or neck brace – do you move the person with a potentially broken back out of the line of fire or not? Or say you’re in open ground when snipers start firing – do you run and save your life, leaving someone bleeding to death behind you? Who do you help when you have to choose between one starving child and another? Often the choices have to be made in seconds. There is almost never a correct answer.
I was in the British Army for a year before I went to university, and during that time I was given about a week’s worth of Red Cross training. In the army they limit your choices. There is a strict battlefield order of who gets attention and who doesn’t. It’s brutal. If an injured person isn’t breathing, you leave them and move onto the next one. You don’t even try to help. You are issued with one giant bandage – though people carry as many as possible – and it should be used carefully. When in battle, you’ll get morphine too. And that should be guarded for the most acute moments of pain.
Soldiers are prepared for the worst – in fact, taught to expect it. And if you are working anywhere near them, you should be too.
Journalist Tim Albone took this advice and told me all about it:
‘Before I left England for Afghanistan I went on a “Surviving Hostile Environments” course run by ex-special forces operatives near Hereford. It turned out to be one of the smartest things I did.
‘On 13 December 2005 I was travelling with Canadian troops on the border of Kandahar and Helmand province when the armoured jeep I was in was hit by a roadside bomb. When the dust settled, it turned out that I was the only one who could move. The driver and the front-seat passenger were both trapped and had broken legs. The gunn
er, who had been standing half out of the top with an armoured turret for protection, had simply disappeared.
‘I remembered my security training: they had told me on the course that it is always safer to stay in an armoured car, but I soon had to reassess this idea. The guys in front started cursing at me and telling me to hurry up and get them out – they were in a lot of pain. I remember the moment I pushed open the armoured door: I was convinced I was going to get shot. Luckily, there was no follow-up ambush, but what I saw was shocking enough. The gunner had been flung out of the vehicle and was lying a few feet away with the armoured gun turret on top of his chest. I was convinced he was dead. Then he started shouting. I pulled the turret off him and was amazed to find he was totally unharmed.
‘We both set about getting the two men out of the front of the jeep. It was a complete mess; the engine block had been thrown a few feet away, one tyre had been completely destroyed, and the other lay some distance away. I was surprised that no one was coming to help us. I later found out that they were sweeping the area for mines, but as we were in a dip by a dry riverbed, we couldn’t see them working their way slowly towards us, their mine detectors at the ready. I felt we were completely alone.
How to Avoid Being Killed in a War Zone Page 10
