Roving reporter Jody McIntyre breaks down the rest of his time spent at Parliament Square with the Tamils...
Friday 10th April:
In the words of Chingy, "somethin' keeps pulling me back." Sitting at home in the middle of the afternoon, I just couldn't resist going to support the cause again. The situation is now far less glamorous, with mud covering the floor, but Parliament Square remains packed nonetheless. These guys are heroes. I caught a glimpse of the front page of The Independent which boasted an in-depth article on the Tamil hunger-strikers. Perhaps the media's veil is finally starting to lift...
Saturday 11th April:
We pass the occupation on the way to the huge Tamil demonstration (which an estimated quarter of a million people attended) in Central London. Unfortunately, the protest has been booted off the Square itself onto the pavement next to it. By the signs on hastily-erected local Council fencing, they deem the state of the grass to be more important than the deaths of tens of thousands of civilians in Sri Lanka, many of whom are the family of people here.
Thursday 16th April:
After the demonstration against police brutality at New Scotland Yard, me and Sara, along with a few other hardcore protestors, continued on the revolutionary road and walked round the corner to Parliament Square. I was greeted by people saying "We know you man we see you here every day" and clearing a path towards the front of the crowd. I have a chat with the one remaining hunger-striker (the other has postponed his fast to participate in talks in the US) who seems happy although very tired. We get involved in some more chanting, which seems to reflect a growing sense of desperation - "Britain, Britain / SAVE THE TAMILS!"
Monday 20th April:
The minute I heard the protestors had broken out of the police cordon at Parliament Square, I got down there as quickly as possible. I was not disappointed - the sign of a riot van as I crossed over Westminster Bridge signalled what I was to find on the other side... thousands of brave Tamils had sat down on the roads surrounding the Square, blocking them indefinitely. And the sun was shining!
At around 1pm, the police attempted to make some kind of announcement which was drowned out by the Tamils' chanting which immediately rose by ten decibels in response. Around half an hour later, they made their way into the crowd to try to individually negotiate people to move off the roads - the police's tactics have clearly changed since the G20 protests then! They were doomed to failure, consistently met with "No way!" by the buggy brigade. But there was a more serious message to their refusals, which I realised as I saw a crying woman next to me screaming at officers:
"These are our families dying! Our brothers and sisters are being murdered... and you're telling us to move!"
By 2.15pm, the police had resorted to the "I'm-sorry-but-that-Tamil-flag-is-illegal" line they'd tried on day one of the protest. But it just wasn't going to wash, this time or any time. I stood up on my wheelchair to spot my friend George who was coming to meet me, but the people around me clearly got the wrong idea. A flag was thrust into my hand (which I promptly started waving), the press and protestors immediately surrounded me, and the latter cheered in unison as the police officers made their way out of the crowd, with their heads hung in shame.
Despite repeated threats throughout the evening from the cops, the Tamils left it until late at night to retreat, of their own accord.
Words: Jody McIntyre, nearly officially a Tamil.