Walned | Alumnus delivering supplies into CUHK: “Anyone with a sense of humanity will do the same.”
Journalist of We Are HKers and a CUHK alumnus, recalling the night they transported supplies into CUHK on 12 Nov.
“We almost gave up because of the deep and unsettling sense of fear, yet a voice within told us to go back without wasting another second. I can’t understand how Hong Kong became such a city... On my way back to CUHK, images of the Tiananmen Square massacre continued to replay in my mind. Was it deja vu, or had I lost my sanity? ”
Journalist: Walned
Photographer: Walned, Studio Incendo
Illustrator: Tendarken
In the afternoon of 12 Nov, I saw police beating up students at the Chinese University of Hong Kong (CUHK) on the news. No one could predict that the blockade set up by protesters in the morning to mobilise a general strike would incite the police to besiege the university. Without a second thought, a few other CUHK alumni and I decided to go back to our school to support the students, and we planned to bring along some supplies.
At 7pm, not long after arriving in Tai Wai, we saw people crowding the bus stop, eager to head home. We couldn’t help but falter in our will to get to CUHK, as all the roads were blocked and we did not have a car. We couldn’t transport the supplies to campus.
Some schoolmates were watching the livestream on their phones, and the sound of gunshots continued to reverberate from CUHK. All of us were filled with anxiety and panic, and we also received messages from friends telling us not to go back to campus. We almost gave up because of the deep and unsettling sense of fear, yet a voice within told us to go back without wasting another second.
Whether you went to CUHK, as long as you have some sense of humanity, you would understand the gravity, inevitability and significance of this task.
Luckily, a schoolmate of ours was able to drive us in, so we took action immediately—we went to buy dressings and saline solutions from a pharmacy. Without even telling the staff what we needed, he presented us with a few bottles of eyewash and began explaining the usage of each of them, “This is the best one for washing eyes, just the right thing against tear gas!” The way he said it was so casual, as if getting tear gassed was now a daily reality for regular folks, and everyone must pray for good luck in order to survive it.
We were waiting for our schoolmate to come pick us up at a street corner, with supplies in our arms. At 9pm in Tai Wai, huge crowds flowed through as they always did, yet I noticed a few strangers waiting silently on the side of the road, just like us. Some of them were holding umbrellas, and some had paper towels and bottled water. Despite not knowing each other, we nodded in acknowledgement. In such a tense and unfamiliar situation, it was rare to encounter those who shared the same goals and destinations.
At this moment, a man came over and said, “Hey, I’m sorry, I know I can’t go in myself, but I really want to help out. Please wait here for a second!” He then ran to the convenient store located 100 metres away. Five minutes later, he returned, short of breath, with two massive bags of cup noodles and daily necessities. “This is all I can do… I’m so sorry, and I really appreciate what you are doing!” He looked apologetic, and left immediately after. I was stunned—what caused him to have such faith in me? Why was he apologising? I could not comprehend how Hong Kong had turned into a place where you must actively do something for the protesters just to feel a little less guilty.
In the end, it took us two hours to get to Royal Ascot in Fo Tan. From there, we had to walk to CUHK as all the other roads were blocked. I would never have imagined seeing so many people on such a tiny countryside trail walking towards campus in the middle of the night. They were all holding bags of different sizes. Several muscular men in suits had even rolled up their sleeves, carrying a 5-litre bottle of water on each of their shoulders. Not long after, motorcycles appeared from the top of the hill to help carry heavier supplies back to CUHK. Despite the roadblocks, the motorcycles transported not only supplies, but also people to and from campus.
Along the way, I saw motorcycles coming and going, as well as a few St John’s ambulances heading downhill while flashing their warning lights. I realised we were only metres away from campus when I smelled the pungency of tear gas. I’ve never wanted to compare the unrest in Hong Kong to any historical tragedies—doing so is unfair to both sides, and would only remind everyone of the traumas, deepening any existing hatred. Yet on my way back to CUHK, images of the Tiananmen Square massacre continued to replay in my mind. Was it deja vu, or had I lost my sanity? I realised because of the events that unfolded over the past six months, I had lost the ability to rationally process and accept the reality in front of me.
Then it was 1am, and the campus of CUHK had finally returned to peace, if only temporarily. I stared at the warm lights of the sports field, yet all I could feel was a chill in my heart.
“I am Walned, I am a HKer.”
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