Two weeks ago, the whole world has cast its eye on one city in particular – London. For three days, the United Kingdom capital was put to a halt and a complete standstill. The entire city assimilated a deserted refuge camp – everything was empty and yet traces of human civilization were still visible. I remembered walking to the usually-crowded Oxford Street and seeing nothing – the only piece of evidence perceptible of the fashionistas and model-wanna-be's strutting their stuff in the pavements of Oxford Street were the Topshop and Primark paper bags near the trash stations.
It seems official – World War 3 has begun – at least in the UK.
How did the conjectural war started?
Fact:
Mark Duggan, a 29-year-old man, was shot on 4 August 2011 by police attempting to arrest him in Tottenham, London, England, following a surveillance operation, on suspicion of a planned revenge attack following the fatal stabbing of his cousin. He died from a gunshot wound to the chest. The reaction of some people to the apparent circumstances of his death -- a public demonstration and an attack on police vehicles which culminated to a riot in Tottenham. This escalated into further widespread riots, looting and arson in London and in some major English cities.
The aftermath:
I was working my twelve hour shift when the first wave of chaos started. I heard my fellow-nurse in the hospital chattering to a domestic cleaner while I empty my patient's urine catheter bag (yep. This is an exciting part of my job! Haha) about the road closures since they have to drive their way home. But since where I live is just a “tumbling, split and 2 kembot away from the hospital”, I could not be bothered.
And so I went home and carried on just like any other night – went to Tesco and bought a ready-to-eat meal (it is usually a tough choice between a pasta and an indian tikka masala!), headed home and had shower while my food is enjoying itself in the microwave, open the laptop to amuse myself and eat peacefully. And voila! The day is gone...
I was completely nonchalant about the things happening around me. I have always prevented myself from getting involved to social milieus which has very little impact on my uninspired life. I remembered when I was studying in UST way back in college and speakers from leftist movements such as “anak-pawis” or “bayan-muna” encouraging us to take part in the rallies in Mendiola. And I was not even listening although I was partially interested in the fact that I could miss one ROTC session if I put myself forward for it. Don't get me wrong but I really do admire these people who have been selfless and generous enough to give themselves for a higher cause of the society. But as they say, kanya-kanya lang po 'yan. And such bonds do not run in my DNA.
And so in the comforts of my small half-empty room, I think back of the days gone by. Nothing has really changed. London recuperated from the nightmare of it all. Looking back, I saw no anger at the rioters, it was just LUST FOR VIOLENCE AND HAPPINESS AT THIS CHANCE TO ROB WITH NO RISK. In a larger scale, one of the most disappointing feelings I have associated with the latter circumstances were the fact that a few wicked people will stigmatise a whole generation. But maybe reality will really suck it all in.
Through it all, the faces of young men and women causing the outburst have been caught in CCTV – the prison halls suddenly became overcrowded and they were given the lame amercement of partaking in community service. I doubt the government would even consider taking their benefits away from them.
In a complete antithetical story, fast forward to August 28 – the Notting Hill Carnival is making a blast. In some scale, the festival counterfeits the rioting scene – it was utterly chaotic – in a delightful kind of way (Sobrang siksikan sa mga street party – and lasap na lasap ang sabaw ng tunay na sampalok sa asim ng mga foreigners (and pinoy at times. Oops!) na nakiki-jam din. Pero sayaw pa rin while having a can of beer. Walang pakielaman. People of all ages and color just dancing their hearts away -- irrespective if it was in the tune of Samba or "A ella La Gusta La Gasolina"! And it felt damn good to just allow yourself to be taken away by the moment and by the sheer of joy knowing that you are enjoying yourself and you have good friends (they have been my salvation for the past few months) around you. The Notting Hill Carnival definitely leaves an indelible mark.
Notting Hill Festival and the Riots – both unrestrained yet reflects two opposing ideologies. But does it even matter? Can we even draw a learning curve from either of them? In the end, what matters is you know how to keep your sanity intact as an individual, stand up behind every foolishness you've made, and in every situation, make sure you know what the hell you're getting yourself into...
