Part 7: All the King’s men

The first time I saw representatives of the private militia belonging to the Khalifa family was in an area called Jasra on the west coast of Bahrain (which is more like a western suburb of Manama) in September, 2008. I was with a group of friends on our way to a party at Hamala Beach Resort and our vehicle, which was driven by the husband of one of our colleagues at the Polytechnic, passed by a very long and ornate wall which was guarded periodically by armed, uniformed men. I had been in Bahrain for less than a month at the time and this was my first glimpse of any armed security personnel anywhere in the country. When my friend asked Paul, the driver, who the men were and what they were “protecting”, he rather casually replied, “Oh, they’re just some of the guys who protect the Khalifas. That place is one of their properties.”

I have since learnt that “that place” is one of a collection of private palaces belonging to the Prime Minister of Bahrain. I’ll be blogging more about this amazing individual in the near future but for now I’ll just repeat that he is the uncle of the King of Bahrain and has held the position of Prime Minister (unelected) for 40 years. If you would like to see what “that place” of his looks like from the air, take a look at this. The large white things near the water are private boats.

The road we travelled along on our way to Hamala was the one on the right of the picture going from top to bottom. The personnel we saw guarding the Prime Minister’s “Waterside Palace” belong to a special group called the Royal Guard. Paul told us that this group were handpicked by the King himself and consisted of non-Bahraini nationals who also belonged to the same religious persuasion as the royal family. I remember thinking to myself at the time that it was a pretty smart move by the King to use foreigners to protect his family as it effectively prevented any form of military coup taking place in the future. I now know that one of the King’s sons, Sheikh Nasser bin Hamad Al Khalifa was promoted to take charge of the Royal Guard on 19th June 2011, three days after being promoted from captain to colonel in the Bahrain Defense Force. At the time of writing, Sheikh Nasser is 24 years old.

Not long after our trip out to Hamala Beach Resort I began living on the edge of Sanabis and saw other Bahraini security staff on a very regular basis. These members were only ever seen driving around in their Four-Wheel-Drive vehicles (vehicles which, incidentally, are never needed in Bahrain because the country is as flat as a pancake) with the word POLICE painted on the sides as well as the website address for the Ministry of the Interior (www.interior.gov.bh), which I always felt  looked strange.

I also discovered that all the windows of these vehicles were protected by heavy mesh grilles, so obviously they had been involved in altercations with Bahrainis in the past. Later, of course, I learnt that the same youths responsible for setting the tyres alight in the Sanabis area were also involved in throwing missiles at these vehicles. Seeing groups of these vehicles slowly cruising around the streets in and around Sanabis (and disrupting traffic, I should point out) became a regular sight for me. It wasn’t until February 14th 2011 that I actually got to see them do anything other than driving slowly around.

The personnel inside these vehicles, as hinted from their website address, work for the Ministry of the Interior (MoI). This Ministry is under the control of Lieutenant-General Sheikh Rashid bin Abdulla Al Khalifa, a cousin of the King, and is responsible for law enforcement and public safety in Bahrain. The official title of this group, however, is the Special Security Force Command, which comes under the control of the National Security Agency and is associated with the Ministry of the Interior (hence the website address). From their appearance (but not by their actions) most westerners would commonly refer to these personnel as “riot police” and, as with the Royal Guard, most of their numbers come from other countries, most notably Pakistan, Syria, Yemen and Jordan and many of their members do not speak Arabic. They receive free housing and become naturalised Bahrainis upon starting their job, helping to swell the numbers of Sunni Bahrainis. Although it is difficult to ascertain accurate figures of just how many riot police are employed in Bahrain, it has been suggested that there are approximately 2,500 – 3,000 working in the country. Assuming that 70% of Bahrain’s population are pro-democracy,  this means that there is approximately one riot police member for 140 men, women and children in Bahrain, a truly incredible ratio.

There is also much speculation about the legal training that the Special Security Force Command personnel receive, if any. Most riot police in democratic countries are normal, highly trained police officers who double as riot police if and when the need arises. These professionals are well aware of the legal requirements of their work since it usually involves having to appear in court to give evidence. It is highly doubtful that any of the imported members of the Special Security Force Command are ever expected to or have ever given any form of evidence in court (since many cannot speak Arabic) or that they have been trained in any way to understand the legal or Human Rights requirements of their jobs. The fact that there is no requirement for them to give evidence also suggests that there is no intention to carry out investigations for any of the deaths and injuries that have been caused by the Special Security Force Command members.  To an outsider it appears that they have all been brought into the country to simply act like thugs and bullies and to suppress any form of protest, however peaceful it may be. The only training they appear to have had is in the low-skill areas of  weapons handling and tear-gas dispensing.

The riot police or Special Security Force Command are very easily recognisable in their white helmets with protective visors (which are almost always raised), their navy blue uniform jumpsuits and their large black boots.

In recent months they have begun wearing ridiculous plastic protective chest and back plates and have also been issued with perspex riot shields with the word POLICE printed on them. (I always find it amusing that in many non-English speaking countries English is used with law enforcement instead of their native language as if to say, “this is serious!”.) Normally when the word riot is used most people have visions of proper riots, such as prison riots, where the inmates take control of the prison and generally smash everything up as a form of protest against harsh conditions or street riots which are extremely rare. Perhaps the most famous recent street riots took place in Los Angeles in 1992 following the acquittal of four police officers who were video-taped assaulting an unarmed and totally defenseless civillian. The name of the civillian, Rodney King, would be familiar to any who remember the incident and the overwhelming public furore amongst the black community of Los Angeles resulted in a large-scale riot. The Wikipedia definition of a riot is: “a form of civil disorder characterized often by what is thought of as disorganized groups lashing out in a sudden and intense rash of violence against authority, property or people.” What took place in Los Angeles, as an example, exactly fits this description. The black community violently attacked anyone who was white, smashed public property and stole and looted from businesses. This situation quickly became totally out of control and riot police were used to eventually restore order. It should be pointed out that there has never been anything remotely resembling riots in Bahrain and for anyone to describe the protests (which are almost always in the form of peaceful marches) as riots is totally misleading and completely untrue.

My first experience of the Special Security Force Command members in action was the small tear-gas firing incident on February 14th, 2011. At the time I could not see much but I later learnt that these riot police were actually trying to prevent a group of anti-government protesters from reaching the Pearl Roundabout on foot. They certainly were not rioting and they were totally unarmed. But they were treated as rioters nonetheless. What I witnessed at 3.00 am on February 17th was much, much worse. The Special Security Force Command were used to smash an egg with a sledgehammer – there was no rioting, no weapons and absolutely no danger to the riot police or to the general public. As I commented in an earlier blog, the riot police’s objective was not to simply clear the roundabout of protesters; it was also to try to inflict as many injuries as possible to the protesters in doing so.

Ever since the appalling events of February and March of 2011, the Special Security Force Command has been used extensively and intensively by the Khalifa regime to simply stamp out the protest movement once and for all. I repeat that the protesters are not in any way rioting or causing civil disobedience each time they are attacked mercilessly by the riot police. Men, women and children each day in Bahrain have been subjected to a constant stream of attack by these overseas mercenaries with, as in the events of last February, the aim of injuring and, it appears, killing them. Here is a list of the types of activities that these “special” forces are guilty of committing:

• groups of security force vehicles travel to villages during the night and fire or throw tear gas at and into the houses of families. These families are not even outside in the street, let alone protesting or “rioting” and yet they are being subjected to this kind of treatment on a nightly basis.  This has resulted in several deaths, particularly of babies and the elderly, which the Ministry of the Interior dismiss by saying the deaths were caused by “bacterial infection” in the case of a perfectly healthy 5 day-old baby or that one elderly man had died from cancer after presumably deciding that sitting in front of his television was preferable to being treated in a hospital.
• riot police throw molotov cocktails at protesters and at the houses of protesters. This action in itself is hard enough to believe but the question of where these molotovs come from needs to be considered. Is it part of the new training that King Hamad promised to introduce after the humiliation of the BICI findings that allows security officers to make molotov cocktails or are they being made for them by Khalifa loyalists? Here is a link to a video showing a law enforcement officer throwing a molotov cocktail at a group of protesters, something I had never seen anywhere before.
• apart from molotovs being thrown, Special Security Force Command members have also been filmed throwing rocks and, more disturbingly, metal rods. These rods appear to be made from similar material as that used in the building industry but cut down so as to be easily handled. Their effectiveness was horrifically revealed when one of them was thrown and hit a completely innocent young lady, impaling itself in her head. She died from her injuries a few days later.

• also falling into the “difficult to believe” category is the fact that the riot police have also been filmed using slingshots against protesters. It suggests that they have been given carte blanche to use whatever means they like to suppress the protesters.
• damage to property also seems to be one of the many other requirements of the job of a Special Security Force Command member, particular damage to parked vehicles. The riot policemen’s batons seem particularly suited for this and are used to smash windows and lights on vehicles for absolutely no legal reason.
• using their vehicles as weapons to run over protesters is also very popular, with at least one protester dying from his injuries inflicted after being repeatedly run over. A group of five protesters were arrested and accused of doing the same thing to a policeman during the March 2011 unrest with two being sentenced to death and the other three receiving life sentences in prison. The policemen who caused the death of the protester, however, have never been investigated. The Special Security Force Command also drive their vehicles at high speeds through the villages of the protesters, endangering the lives of anyone unlucky enough to be outside at the time. Some would suggest that this is done deliberately to cause injury and possibly death, which is one of the reasons residents have taken to blocking the streets in their own villages with whatever large objects they can lay their hands on to prevent it from happening.
• shooting. Riot police in most civilised countries rarely resort to the use of firearms when controlling unrest. They are present as a strong visual deterrent but they are used extensively against protesters in Bahrain. Four people were killed by gunshots during the clearing of the Pearl Roundabout back in February 2011 and there have been many more deaths attributed to guns, particularly shotguns, since then. The government has claimed that the firing of the guns has only ever been in self defense whenever any of the Special Security Force Command members felt threatened but it is interesting to note that very few of the protesters who died from gunshot wounds received them in the front of their bodies, almost always in the back. There has also been much debate about the type of ammunition used in the shotguns themselves and for an excellent analysis of this subject I highly recommend an article written by Bill Marczak, which can be read here.
• also on the subject of shooting is the use of rubber bullets. I had always been aware of rubber bullets being used by riot police around the world (as opposed to live ammunition, of which birdshot falls under the category) but never really understood how they worked. Being hit by a bullet made from rubber, while not being lethal would still definitely cause tremendous pain and although I have been shot by paintball pellets fired from an airgun I cannot imagine what it would be like to receive a hit from a rubber bullet fired from a rifle. I have since discovered, however, that the correct procedure for using rubber bullets is to fire them at the ground so that they bounce up into the legs of the protesters, away from vital organs and the head. The impact with the ground reduces the speed of the bullet, making the subsequent impact to the person’s body non-lethal. This does not explain, therefore, why there have been so many eye injuries to protesters since February 2011, with many youths having lost the sight of one eye due to direct hits from rubber bullets. One can only assume that the riot police have been deliberately aiming for the heads of the protesters, which is obviously contrary to the intended use of rubber bullets. For the government to explain this away as being due to a “lack of training” is both unacceptable and insulting.

So during my time in Bahrain I had seen members of the Royal Guard performing their duties of protecting the many valuable assets of the Khalifa family as well as the fully-imported members of the Special Security Force Command systematically suppressing the pro-democracy protesters. Thankfully, I had no direct contact with any members of the National Security Agency (which includes those responsible for carrying out the appalling cases of torture and human rights abuses in Bahrain’s prisons, as detailed in the highly damning BICI report) but I did have a visit by members of the Minister of the Interior to our apartment. Most of those who have read my blogs will know by now how shocked and disgusted I am by the behaviour of the Khalifa regime’s vast army of security personnel, whose existence is almost purely used for stamping out any form of opposition to the royal family and the government’s actions. I accept that every country must have its own forces to act in case of any form of social unrest, even in my own country Australia and in my wife’s country of Thailand, but I have never lived in a country (or visited one, for that matter) where security forces that have been especially brought in from other countries have been used in such a brutal and sadistic manner to suppress simple street marches. The many deaths, countless injuries and endless arrests and cases of torture that continue to occur in a country that prides itself on being an ally to both the US and Britain leaves me appalled beyond measure.

Next blog: A look at the world’s longest serving Prime Minister

Bahrain: The future?

Following a recent healthy discussion online about the current situation in Bahrain and the various ways for the country to move forward I would like to take some time out from my blog of memories to raise a few hypothetical points.

The recent discussion was primarily between a group of non-Bahrainis who are extremely frustrated and exasperated at the seemingly hopeless situation in the country right now. Every night we see messages online of villages being teargassed, we hear of citizens still being abducted and arrested, testimonies of torture despite the promise of a “zero tolerance”, more lies tweeted by the Ministry of Interior accusing the protesters of the crimes that evidence shows the security forces guilty of committing. While our hearts go out to the oppressed and persecuted families from afar we wondered what solution could be found to end this madness.

One excellent and totally accurate opinion was recently put forward by Frankie Dolan here. She very correctly states that the current Prime Minister, Sheikh Khalifa bin Salman Al Khalifa, is the main stumbling block on the road to a solution and that he should be sacked. I could not agree more.

Our group discussion revolved around the question of “what then”? If (and believe me, the idea of Bahrain without the Prime Minister is a massive IF) this was to happen, would it be the end of all the problems in Bahrain? Let’s no forget that the main plank of the protesters wishes is for a democratic system of government, where they can finally have some say in the running of their country. Yes, there are the famous calls for Down Down, Hamad as well as a strong desire for the end of the Khalifa regime but the simple question remains: would the exit of the Prime Minister automatically bring democracy to Bahrain? No, of course it wouldn’t.

Perhaps one of the most shocking observations that I witnessed when I was in Bahrain was the revelation of the real way the government (and therefore its band of loyalists) saw the protesters, a view that left me totally disgusted. They are not seen as merely the opposition as in Labour versus Conservative or Republican versus Democrat. The protesters were and are still seen as the enemy of Bahrain, a threat to its very existence and, in many circles, they are seen as foreigners who want to ultimately destroy the country by handing it over to another one. But even worse than that is the obvious feeling that their religious affiliation is also a threat to Bahrain. We hear that the foreign security forces call the protesters “filthy Shia” – where does this come from and what does it have to do with their protests? Well, quite simply, if the government (i.e the Khalifa family) say that Iran is behind the protests and Iran is fundamentally a Shia nation, then, by association, the mainly Shia protesters are the enemies of the State. A perfect example of this attitude was revealed when the Shia mosques were unlawfully demolished by the Khalifas. Why? Not because they were built without permits or were unsafe, etc – they were demolished because they were symbols of the imaginary enemy lurking across the Persian Gulf.

So my question is this: does anyone truly believe that the exit of the Prime Minister will herald the sudden willingness of the remaining Khalifas to hold fair elections for all and, since the protesters represent 70% of the population, a new government consisting of Shia members? The removal/retirement/exile of the Prime Minister could see an end to the tortue, the teargassing, the arrests, etc but is the descrimination against the Shia people of Bahrain all down to one man? With him gone would the remaining Khalifas suddenly see the Shia population in the same way they see their group of loyal supporters? Assuming the King was free to be a true King for the first time in his life (without his allegedly overbearing and hardline uncle looking over his shoulder) does one honestly believe that he would allow the “filthy Shia” even the remotest possibility of forming a government amongst themselves?

I must admit that I am depressed by the thought of exactly how the democracy-seeking protesters will ever have any political freedom in Bahrain. Once again, if the Prime Minister was gone (and hopefully the cruelty ceased) who would fill his vacant position? Would one of the Prime Minister’s hardline supporters force his way in there? Would the King have the fortitude to appoint a more moderate family member from the large list already within the government? Would he promote one of his own sons to the position? All this is, of course, pure speculation but the overwhelming point is that none of it will produce a true democracy.

There has also been talk of a constitutional monarchy being formed. The King’s role could become a purely ceremonial one, representing the country, receiving foreign dignitaries, sending and receiving cables, etc and having no role in the decision-making process. Personally, I think King Hamad would be relieved to have this role and to continue leaving the decisions of state to be made by others. But what of the other Khalifas? Would they be happy to relinquish their positions within the government so they could be voted out and replaced by the “filthy Shia”. Of course not.

So what is the solution? I am no expert, just a humble English teacher, but I cannot see democracy in Bahrain being simply handed to the protesters on a plate. Bahrain is a family-run business. Anyone involved in this business swears allegiance to the family, not to the country. The protesters (the “filthy Shia”) are, ironically, true patriots, whereas the Khalifa loyalists are merely a group of nationalists. Sydney Harris put it beautifully when he said, “The difference between patriotism and nationalism is that the patriot is proud of his country for what it does, and the nationalist is proud of his country no matter what it does; the first attitude creates a feeling of responsibility, but the second a feeling of blind arrogance that leads to war.” The Khalifa family business and its loyal shareholders will always resist any form of takeover. Merely replacing or shuffling some of its Board of Directors, however corrupt they may be, will not bring it down. The solution, to me, seems to be in finding an effective way to take it completely out of business. Down Down, Hamad all the way.

Part 6: Bahrain’s ugly truth emerges

Following the successful ousting of the tyrannical leaders in Tunisia and Egypt I became aware that the Khalifa regime had offered each family in Bahrain 1,000 dinars (approximately $US 2,500) to “reflect HM the King’s keenness to improve citizens’ life” (sic). [You can read an article about it here.]  The timing of this unusual gesture left no thinking person in doubt that it was, quite obviously, a bribe designed to prevent any unrest or, as some call it, “hush money”. It also served the purpose of creating yet another potential wedge between the regime and the oppressed population should they refuse such a “generous offer”, which they quite rightly did. I remember being stunned when I learnt this information and was amazed at how such an obvious bribe was even attempted in the first place. To assume that the oppressed families would not immediately recognise the motives of such an outrageous offer was such an insult to their intelligence and highlighted to me exactly how the government viewed the majority of its own citizens: a group of low-intellect people who could simply be paid to shut up.

The brutal Pearl Roundabout clearance of February 17th served to confirm exactly the Khalifa regime’s attitude towards their “opposition”. I had received a small taste three days earlier on the 14th when I saw the small group near Dana Mall teargassed and dispersed but at the time I did not recognise exactly what had happened. On reflection it was quite clear just exactly how the police’s superiors felt about any form of protest: that it needed to be subdued as quickly as possible and therefore any form of criticism (in the form of freedom of speech) of the regime was not to be tolerated. I also heard, for the first time, examples of “hate speech” directed at the protesters from fellow residents at Abraj Al Lulu, which left me rather disgusted. Comments such as, “It’s the only language they understand” (being teargassed and beaten) and “You just can’t talk to these people” (these people!) left me in doubt how regime loyalists felt about the protesters. I had never experienced it during my time in Bahrain but now I knew that there were two distinct groups of people.

One only had to look at the disgraceful events that occurred at the Salmaniya Medical Centre to truly comprehend the level of hatred that bubbled to the surface during the days following the roundabout clearance and how one group of Bahrainis felt about the other. The Salmaniya Medical Centre was the nearest large hospital to the Pearl Roundabout and so the large numbers of injured were ferried there on the 17th February. There was an incredible and seemingly endless arrival of battered and severely injured protesters taken there and the hospital quickly filled with them while their concerned families began arriving and gathering in the forecourt outside. With so many injured protesters the whole area in front of the Accident & Emergency entrance was soon packed with relatives, most of whom stayed to wait for news and to try to visit their injured loved ones. In the subsequent days the Salmaniya Medical Centre became a meeting place and a centre where relatives and protesters could gather, now that the Pearl Roundabout had been taken over by police and the military.

[Incidentally, one of the reasons given by the government for clearing the roundabout was that the gathering of people and the tent city there had blocked traffic, causing a disruption to business in the area. I was very interested to see from my vantage point at Abraj Al Lulu that once the protesters had left the roundabout the security forces replaced them, also completely blocking the streets and not allowing traffic into the area. Apparently this courageous action magically brought the level of business back into the area. The blocking of the traffic by the security forces must have been extremely effective because the whole area is still off-limits to traffic today.]

[Part of the crowds at night at the hospital]

Obviously the government were not happy that a hospital had now become the new centre for protests (speeched were made outside the Accident & Emergency section, as well as chanting, etc) and so the hospital was also eventually cleared by the security personnel in the same heavy-handed way. There was no doubt that the government wanted the staff of the hospital to be made examples of to (a) show that the government did not tolerate protesters gathering anywhere, especially at a hospital and (b) to obviously deter any further gatherings anywhere else. For this the medical staff paid a huge and totally unfair price. In order to punish those who happened to be carrying out their duties at the time (i.e trying to treat injured Bahrainis and saving lives) the medical staff were immediately accused of siding with the protesters and therefore (quite illogically) calling for the downfall of the Khalifa regime. In addition to this, the medical staff were accused of favouring the protesters by treating them and leaving the government loyalist patients at the hospital unattended, which is an insulting accusation to make about the commitment to their profession. For anyone to even remotely believe that a medical professional who has taken the Hippocratic Oath would intentionally ignore any patient at the expense of others simply beggars belief. And yet this is what the government accusations were based on and, even more unbelievably, totally supported by their loyalist followers.

But it didn’t stop there. Not content with their work-related accusations, the government also claimed that the doctors organised the storage of weapons at the hospital (most notably guns, knives and swords) to use to fight against any pro-government attackers. The mental picture of doctors arriving at hospital each day carrying their medical case in one hand and an AK-47 in the other is just to ridiculous to entertain – but the accusations were made and once again believed and supported by the loyalists. Amid all this ludicrousness a video was shown by the loyalists which, according to them, once-and-for-all proved that the Salmaniya Medical Centre was the new base for protester terrorists, vindicating the accusations made early. It shows very blurry footage of a few men of apparently sub-continental appearance being led into the complex with their hands bound behind them. On first viewing it does appear that these seemingly innocent-looking expat workers are being taken into the complex against their will but once again the government and, as always, their band of loyalists twisted the facts to suit their own needs. It turns out that the bound men were plainclothed members of the security forces who had been involved in attacks in one of the villages. They had been apprehended by a group of protesters and restrained. They had been injured in the struggle (obviously only slightly as they were able to walk into the hospital unaided) and then taken there for treatment. Another video was made, this time by the protester group, showing the ID cards of the captured men and that they did indeed work for the Ministry of Interior. If the protesters were so keen to kidnap these men, why take them to a public hospital? Why not keep them in a private residence where their “evil terrorist captors” could do whatever they liked to them? The government milked this information for all it was worth and used it as a major plank in the prosecution of the medical staff.

My wife and I actually visited Salmaniya Medical Centre during the days following the roundabout clearance. I found out on Facebook that there was a shortage of blood at the hospital and I had been a regular blood donor in Australia so I had no hesitation in offering mine. I was very pleased when my wife readily agreed to join me but by the time we found the correct area of the hospital in which to donate we were told that they now had enough. It was another fascinating event for both us of, visiting the hospital on that day. We saw first hand the amount of people there, the large number of women, the obvious feeling of outrage that their loved ones were inside badly injured but still an overwhelming feeling of a civil, dignified and restrained group of people. Yes, they were unhappy but my wife and I moved among them easily and we did not experience any fear. Nor did we see any evidence of weapons.

In the days and months following our visit to Salmaniya Medical Centre more wild accusations about the protesters surfaced and the discrimination between the protesters and the loyalists became more and more apparent to us.

Next blog: More layers of ugliness come to the surface

Tags: freedom of speech, hush money, khalifa

Part 5: The Bahrain I came to know

I knew very little about Bahrain before I went to live and work there. As a Formula 1 motor racing fan I knew that it hosted a race each year and I knew that the country was somewhere in the Middle East. That’s about it. Even when I was living in Oman I never heard or read anything about it. When I was informed that there was a new polytechnic there that was looking for expat teachers I had to use Google to see where Bahrain was. I remember being surprised that (a) it was an island and (b) it was tiny. Deciding to leave Oman and settle in Bahrain, however,  was one of the best decisions I ever made.

[The iconic VIP tower at Bahrain Internationl Circuit]

I count myself very fortunate to have been a part of Bahrain Polytechnic. I was not really enjoying teaching in Oman when I first found out about the ‘Poly’. I was the coordinator of the English program for first year students at one of five colleges set up by the Oman Ministry of Education and the head of the program, Joan Boyer (a wonderful and extremely popular New Zealand lady) had decided to resign from her position. At her final meeting with all the college coordinators in Muscat she told me she was heading to Bahrain to become the head of the English program at a new polytechnic there and she mentioned that they needed staff. I applied in June 2008 for the position of English tutor and was asked to travel there for an interview soon after.

I was met at Bahrain airport by the Director of Human Resources, Lorraine Webber (ironically the same person who was forced to terminate my employment), and taken to Seef Mall to kill a bit of time as my interview was not scheduled until the afternoon. In Oman I lived in a coastal town called Sur, about 300km from the capital, Muscat, so the contrast of Manama was immediately noticeable. I was impressed by the “moderness” of the city and the obvious attitude that it was moving with the times. I know Oman is liked by many people for its quaintness and traditions (for example, there is a height limit on buildings) and as recently as 1970 there weren’t even any schools or sealed roads. I remember thinking to myself as I was riding in Lorraine’s car, “I can see myself being very happy living here.”

During the car ride and the interview I was told about the Polytechnic in detail. It was due to open its doors to students in September 2008 and had been specifically set up by the Crown Prince, Salman bin Hamad Al Khalifa, as part of Bahrain’s 2030 vision. Bahrain was experiencing a “skills gap” and needed its young people to have specific qualifications for the jobs available as many graduates from the University had no jobs to apply for that were related to the courses they had studied. My interview took place at the University of Bahrain’s “old” campus in Isa Town and Lorraine told me that the plan was to eventually demolish every building and contruct a wonderful, new, state-of-the-art campus. It all sounded very exciting.

[One of the refurbished Bahrain Polytechnic buildings]

My interview went very well and I received my offer of employment while I was on holiday in Thailand in July and began my Polytechnic life on 31st August as employee number 65. The new staff had a meeting with CEO John Scott and he said two words that brought a smile to my face and confirmed to me that I was in the right place. He said the aim of the Polytechnic was to become a “world class” institution. I liked the sound of that and I was proud to be a part of it.

I was present for the official opening of the Polytechnic on 30th November, 2008 by the Crown Prince. Also in attendance was the Deputy Prime Minister, Shaikh Mohammed bin Mubarak Al Khalifa (not to be confused with the Deputy Prime Minister for Ministerial committees, Muhammad bin Hamad Al Khalifa or the Transport Minister, Ali bin Khalifa Al Khalifa, who is also a Deputy Prime Minister). I was quite interested because I’d never seen a member of any royal family close up before so I waited patiently for the rather large entourage to arrive. We only had about 250 students in that very first semester but I was a little puzzled to see that only about 50 or so had stayed to see the Crown Prince arrive. I was teaching two small classes at the time and none of my students stayed behind after their classes to see him. I wrongly concluded that they were just not interested in seeing the Polytechnic officially opened.

[The official opening of Bahrain Polytechnic, November 2008]

In those early days of the Polytechnic I lived in a suburb called Juffair, an area of reclaimed land close to the Gulf hotel and the Grand Mosque. It was also close to the U.S. military base and a small street containing many fast-food restaurants, affectionately known as “Cholesterol Alley”. My wife was still in Thailand at the time and I knew that she would prefer to live somewhere closer to shopping malls rather than food outlets and a military base, so I tagged along with a group of my colleagues who were also looking for accommodation in other areas. We were shown an apartment in a building (not Abraj Al Lulu) close to the shopping mall precinct that I thought would be perfect so I decided to sign the lease. The name of the suburb I had chosen to live in was Sanabis.

The apartment building was not in Sanabis but right on the edge, very close to Manama and the Pearl Roundabout. One of the first things I noticed about the Sanabis area was the regular clouds of black smoke that appeared and the strange circular marks on the roads as I drove to and from work. Whenever any student asked me where I was living and I said “Sanabis” they would laugh and ask me if I liked barbeques. It was not until I saw a pile of tyres that had been deliberately set on fire on one of the roads that everything clicked for me. I tried to find out what was going on.

One of my students in that first semester was an extremely likeable and intelligent young fellow called Ahmed. He called himself a “revolutionary” and wore a green, military style jacket. Even with his outgoing appearance he seemed a little tight-lipped about his revolution but did tell me that the burning of tyres were a protest about youths being arrested in the area. I assumed that it was for some petty incident and left it at that. I also could not understand why Ahmed needed to be a revolutionary in the first place. To me, Bahrain seemed like an extremely well-run and planned country and had obviously devoted a lot of time to planning for its future when the reserves of natural resources would inevitable run out.

[A common sight in Sanabis - rows of burning tyres blocking the roads]

I remember being extremely happy at that time and felt I had made an excellent decision to move to Bahrain. I went to the Bahrain International Circuit and watched a V8 Supercar race (as well as the Formula 1 Grand Prix later the next year), watched some of the best snooker players in the world play in the Bahrain Snooker Championship at the International Exhibition Centre, saw Australia defeat Bahrain in a FIFA World Cup qualifying match at the National Stadium, hit golf balls at the driving range of the Royal Golf Club, played cricket on the beach and joined the British Club. The best of everything was within easy reach, especially great restaurants and alcohol. In Oman it was necessary to buy a license to purchase alcohol and the only outlets were in Muscat, involving a 700 km round trip. Life was good and I was extremely impressed with the whole way the country was run. To all appearances Bahrain was a peacful, happy country but, as I gradually came to discover, appearances can be very deceptive in Bahrain.

Next blog: The truth about Bahrain is revealed

Tags: Bahrain

Part 4: Back to Bahrain and goodbye

I arrived back in Bahrain on the 2nd of April after what should have been a pleasant stay in Bangkok with my wife. I found it difficult to relax with my thoughts focused on what would happen to the protesters at Pearl Roundabout after the King had asked for help, requesting the use of the GCC (Gulf Cooperation Council) troops to obviously control the situation with force. The GCC was set up to defend against external threats but was now being deployed against Bahrain’s own unarmed civilians, and the roundabout was cleared again while I was away.

While I was in Bangkok I learnt that the wonderful Pearl Monument had been demolished. I found this very difficult to understand but it only confirmed the Khalifa regime’s determination to remove all traces of the peaceful protests that had occurred there. State television said the area needed to be ‘cleansed’ and the Bahraini Foreign Minister, Khalid Bin Ahmad Al Khalifa, said the demolition was “a removal of a bad memory”.

 

 

I felt a huge sense of loss when I drove my car towards Abraj Al Lulu and found there was no Lulu anymore. I had been told that when the monument was contructed in 1982 (for the 3rd summit of the Gulf Cooperation Council held in Bahrain) it was the tallest structure in the country at the time. It had since been dwarfed by several nearby apartment buildings but it was no less significant or impressive. Now it was gone.

The Polytechnic started up again following the break due to the “social unrest” and there was another full meeting of staff. We learnt that the Polytechnic, formerly under the guidance of the Economic Development Board was now to be a part of the Ministry of Education. A “deputy CEO” had been appointed from the Ministry, Dr Mohammed Ebrahim Al Aseeri (who was not present at the meeting), whose role was to liaise with the Minister in Arabic so that the Minister could answer questions about the Polytechnic in parliament. In stark contrast to his statement of neutrality in February, John Scott then announced that the Polytechnic was now part of the government and that we should be seen to support the government. “Like hell I will”, I said to myself. One of my colleagues summed up the situation perfectly when he said, “He’s been nobbled”. [Verb: Try to influence or thwart (someone or something) by underhanded or unfair methods: "an attempt to nobble the jury".] Finally, John informed us that all staff and students would be “investigated” for participation in any of the recent demonstrations just as soon as the investigations had been completed at the University of Bahrain.

I resumed my teaching at the Polytechnic, devoting my time to squeezing my English course into the time that remained in the semester. My students had been given the option of morning or afternoon classes and had used this opportunity to form themselves mainly into a morning pro-government group and an afternoon pro-democracy group. Now the tables had been turned and my morning class was upbeat and smiling, whereas my afternoon class was quiet but determined. I still tried (as always) to teach without any favouritism or discrimination but the overwhelming arrogance of my morning class made it quite difficult for me. The students did not seem interested, some arriving very late, some not even bringing paper or pen, some simply operating their mobile phones for the duration of the lesson. I never mentioned what had happened outside the Polytechnic to them but I feel that many of the students were aware of my feelings and had simply dismissed me. I now feel that some of them were struggling as much as I was with their own inner conflict of appearing to support the government but secretly questioning what had taken place.

In May the investigations started as promised and the mood of the Polytechnic was difficult to explain. We learnt that Bahraini staff had been identified from photographs as having attended protests and were singled out for investigation. One of the non-teaching staff was arrested and severely beaten but was able to resume work. I have since learnt that Facebook pages were expressly set up displaying photographs taken at demonstrations, asking for pro-government supporters to identify the circled faces so that they could be identified, traced and arrested. One of my former students told me his terrifying story: he was called to the administration building at the Polytechnic and he, with five other students, was taken to the nearby military building where they were all put in a room. They stayed in there all night and were interrogated the next morning. My student was very fortunate as he had been confused with another young man with a similar name and was allowed to leave. Three of the youths (students from the University of Bahrain) were handcuffed, hoods were placed over their heads and they were taken away on a bus, never to be seen again.

I was finding it more and more difficult coping at this time but I tried not to think to much about what might happen to me, which was not easy. I tried to be positive and reassured myself that I had not taken part in any protests and therefore was safe. My videos from February had been dealt with by the “security staff” at my apartment and so I felt safe about them. I know I had made comments to my “friends” on Facebook but they were not critical of the ruling family or the government, simply trying to correct wrong and misleading information. I did not know what the future held at the Polytechnic for me and I did not know if I could continue working for a government that resorted to unlawful arrests, torture and now identification from social networking.

Students had now started to be expelled, including one from my afternoon class. Again, my morning class were as happy as usual, totally unaffected by what was now happening at the Polytechnic and in Bahrain. Understandably, my afternoon class was very upset and worried and I tried to give them as much leeway as I could to cope with everything. Some of my afternoon students came from villages that were now being raided by police, arresting suspects and damaging property. They bravely came to class, passing through checkpoints and still continued to work hard. I found their courage very inspiring.

With every passing day that I was at the Polytechnic I was expecting to be asked to appear at an interview with the investigating committee that had been set up by the deputy CEO. And with every passing day that I wasn’t asked I felt that maybe I had flown under their radar and escaped detection. It was a stressful time and I can remember being on edge and not being able to sleep well at home. Sure enough, I received a text message on my mobile phone while I was in class asking me to visit the Director of Human Resources in the CEO’s office.

The meeting was direct and to the point. The Ministry of Education knew all about me, knew all about my videos and my comments on Facebook. It turns out that my “friends” had kept copies of my comments and these were presented to me, although none of them could seriously be used to show that I had been critical of the government in any way. I knew that my number was up and there was nothing I could do. To his credit, John Scott had insisted that I not front the other investigative committee as I was the only expat under investigation. I told him that I did not hold him responsible for what was taking place in any way, for which he thanked me. It was also obvious that the Ministry wanted me out immediately (as had happened to the students) but John said he would try to see if he could arrange for me to finish up later. I appreciated this as I needed to assess my students before their classes finished in four weeks. We later agreed that I could finish on 30th June, which would also give me time to sell my car and arrange to pack and send all our belongings to Thailand. I was asked to please stop making any comments at all on Facebook, to which I agreed. I did not want the Polytechnic or anyone from management to get into trouble by anything I did because they had all treated me so well in the past.

I remember walking back to my office with very mixed thoughts. I had been sacked from my job, not because of my teaching ability or for any normal disciplinary reason, but because I had taken videos and made comments on Facebook. I now had to think of my future after June 30th, look for a new job somewhere and tell my wife that we had to leave our beautiful apartment and the life we enjoyed together in Bahrain. On the other hand, I felt a huge sense of relief that I had been freed from having to work for the Bahraini government and that I would no longer have any association with them whatsoever.

I would like to take this opportunity to mention the expat staff who remain at the Polytechnic and my feelings towards them. I do not want anyone to assume that I look at them differently simply because they continue to work there. Their reasons for being there are private and to be respected and if there is anything I have learnt from my experiences this year in Bahrain it is that personal feelings and decisions should be respected. I am still good friends with many of them.

In the weeks following my dismissal I still monitored Facebook, mainly to try to keep track of the students that had been expelled as I was appalled to learn that many outstanding young Bahrainis and student leaders of the Polytechnic had been ordered to leave. It was during this time that several comments appeared criticising John Scott for being personally responsible for the expulsions and for going back on his word of the Polytechnic being neutral. I felt I could not allow this to happen as I knew John’s authority had been diminished by the intervention of the Ministry and that he truly had the students’ best interests at heart at all times. So I posted what I thought was an innocent comment: “I will tell you more about this after June 30th”. Bad move, Tony.

The next morning, June 14th, I was called to the HR Director’s office (John Scott was on leave) and told that my Facebook post had been brought to the Minister of Education’s attention (no doubt by one of my Facebook “friends”) and that he was “up in arms about it”. I know that he would have been more upset with the Polytechnic for not controlling me but nevertheless he demanded that I leave immediately. This meant I could not assess my students but thankfully that was done later by two very capable tutors. So I packed up my belongings, copied all my files from my Polytechnic laptop to my external hard drive and gave the laptop back. The Polytechnic had already booked flights to Thailand for my wife and I for July 1st and I was asked if I wanted them to change the tickets.

[My letter of termination of contract - click to enlarge ]

I didn’t want to cause a fuss and I felt the extra two weeks would give us more time to pack, sell the car, say our goodbyes and leave. The HR staff I was with at the time all looked at each other nervously and I was advised to think seriously about leaving the country as soon as possible. I didn’t like the sound of that. Was I that much of a threat to the government? It was unnerving but it showed me just how paranoid those in the government had become and how determined they were to eradicate all opposition to their practices.

My wife and I flew out from Bahrain on June 23rd. We frantically managed to send all our possessions safely to Thailand and I managed to sell my car (with the wonderful assistance of my former student, the one who was arrested) but at least we had possessions and my car had not been smashed up, as was happening in many villages at the time. On the Etihad flight I had time to reflect on my three years in Bahrain, what I had experienced and what I had achieved. I also wondered what would happen to the amazing country and the brave people I was leaving behind.

Next blog: My thoughts on Bahrain during my time there.

Tags: Bahrain

Part 3: Aftermath and Social Media

From the perspective of my wife and I, all was once again well with the world. The peaceful protesters were back at Pearl Roundabout, there were no police, no army, no bloody teargas and no security personnel hanging around. Yes, it was difficult to move in and out of the complex in our car but the protesters had volunteer traffic wardens (as well as cleaners) so it was far from unbearable. I felt like I had dodged a bullet by not being arrested (I still cannot imagine what it must have been like for some families to have had their front door kicked down in the middle of the night and witnessed the head of the household being savagely beaten in from of them before being taken away to be tortured) and there was nothing controversial to videotape, so the lack of camcorder was no problem.

My wife and I visited the roundabout one evening and there was a pleasant, carnival-like atmosphere. Thousands of people united by one primary goal (something called ‘democracy’) were mingling happily as one group. There were free food stalls everywhere (a new popcorn machine had been installed), a small area set aside for aspiring artists and even free haircuts were available. The pro-government trolls later claimed that there were “sex tents” to cater for you-know-what, which was both preposterous and insulting to the large number of families, women and children that were in attendance. Once again, at no time did we ever feel unsafe or threatened and, needless to say, did we see any evidence of weapons on display.

I eventually returned to work at the Polytechnic as preparations were in order to welcome our students back and there were several meetings with all staff, both academic and non-teaching. In these meetings the CEO, Mr. John Scott, stressed the fact that the Polytechnic needed to be seen as a place where all students were able to feel safe amidst all the turmoil that had happened outside. Security was beefed up and there was a need to search students’ vehicles for weapons but John wanted everyone to know that we could not be seen to be taking sides and that we needed to remain neutral in front of our students. I fully agreed with him but after what I had witnessed I found it very difficult to be neutral. I really struggled with this notion because to me, it made me feel like I didn’t care. Looking back (which is always so easy to do) I know I should have spoken to more people about this but I could not bring myself to tell anyone I was neutral. In my eyes it was like saying, “Oh, I don’t mind what happens because I’m an expat” or “It’s your country, it’s got nothing to do with me”.

The group of students that I had the priviledge  of teaching before February 14th (I also taught them in the previous semester) were a wonderful group of young people and made my job so enjoyable. For those who may not know, Bahraini students have superb senses of humour and can speak and listen to English extremely well (I won’t mention their writing!). I did not have the slightest idea which of my students were Sunni or Shia and it did not make any difference before the unrest. Some of my students had formed their own group called The Catalysts who wanted to bring about change (obviously) as well as undertaking community projects and charity work. They were all friends and we had a ball together. After February 14th it was all gone.

My first day back at teaching saw my students sitting in different groups and the air in the classroom was cold (I’m not talking about the air-conditioning). There were no smiles, no laughter and I immediately knew which students were pro-government: the ones that were the most pissed off. I tried to make them welcome and wanted them to know that we had all been through a tough time but that I hoped we could still have a good semester together. I then told the class that I had been asked to be neutral about the events and that I was sorry, but I could not. I knew this would alienate many in the class but I hoped that they would understand and respect me, based on our good relationship. Wrong.

After the class I was approached by a group of pro-government male students who were very keen to tell me not to be fooled by what I had heard or been told by people from the other side. They played the Iran card, saying protesters wanted Bahrain to be a part of Iran again and that they wanted to change the country with all women covering themselves, etc, etc. I was told that the protesters were liars and had faked their injuries. I tried to state my case that the protests were about true democracy but I was wasting my time. I thanked the boys and made my excuse to leave.

Meanwhile, away from work I was kept busy on Facebook keeping up with the stream of information about what had been happening. To my dismay, there was a huge amount of misinformation about what had occurred. Alegations of weapons being found during the roundabout clearance on February 17th, the sex-tent rumours, the faking of injuries and photographs, etc. I was appalled that students, including some of my own, would spread such malicious gossip. I took it upon myself to try to correct some of these errors based on my own experience, living with the Pearl Roundabout on my back doorstep. I got involved in several discussions with a few students in particular, “friends” on my Facebook account, who had severely warped and prejudiced views on the protesters and outrageous and blinkered opinions about their own government and so-called leaders. The use of the word “terrorists” was introduced and one student classified the protesters as worse that Hitler because “even Hitler kept the schools going”. Enough said.

As February drew to a close we were treated to the spectacle of the protest marches, the likes of which I had not seen before in real life. We could see from our apartment the protesters stretched from Seef all the way to the roundabout, about 2 kilometres of united protest. Once again the women were easily distinguished in their black and there was even a long Bahraini strip flag that was hundreds of metres long. As they slowly passed our building we could hear their chants and singing and each of these marches were, once again, conducted peacefully and respectfully.

Not to appear to be outdone, the pro-government Bahrainis organised their own gatherings ostensibly as a show of support for the ruling family but obviously a clear attempt at one-upmanship and “anything you can do we can do better”. Unfortunately it was discovered that many of the pro-government crowd consisted of expat labourers from the sub-continent who were paid in food vouchers to join in and wave small Bahraini flags. Once again, enough said.

On March 3rd things started to get ugly. There was reportedly a clash in Hamad Town between Shia and Sunni and on March 10th another Sunni/Shia altercation occurred following an incident at a girls’ school. I was informed that the Sunni involved were the naturalised ones who are imported by the government to help bolster their numbers in return for plum jobs (usually in security) and free housing. A few days after this I awoke to see a strange sight from our bedroom window: no cars at all on the normally busy Seef highway. I discovered later that it had been blocked at both ends by protesters and I knew this would eventually mean trouble. In the subsequent days the large malls surrounding the area (Bahrain City Centre, Dana Mall, Seef Mall, Bahrain Mall) all closed as few customers could enter. Thankfully my wife had left the country at this time but things were starting to get uncomfortable for me. The enormous numbers at the roundabout made travel in our car virtually impossible and now most of the shops in the area were shut. Two of my fellow-teachers were also living in my apartment complex and we all received an offer from the Polytechnic to move away and stay at a hotel if we wanted to, which was extremely kind of them.

On the 13th of March the government had had enough and sent the police in to clear the protesters but had to force their way in via the blocked highway first. I watched the events unfolding from my windows and from the carpark (until teargas intervened) and eventually the police retreated, much to the delight of the protesters. The battle had lasted for most of the morning and only ended when the police knew that they did not have the numbers.

 

That was to change when the King called on Saudi Arabia to help him control his own country the following day. Something told me that things would only get worse and I accepted the Polytechnic’s offer and packed my bags and drove to the Gulf Hotel, figuring out what to do. My wife at this time was understandably concerned about me and we decided a break in Thailand was called for, so I booked a flight online and flew there the next day.

Next blog: Return to Bahrain and termination from work.

Tags: Bahrain

Part 2: Return to Pearl Roundabout

Unknown to me, there was a lot of activity taking place in Bahrain behind the scenes in a bid to end the unrest. The Crown Prince had become involved and was trying to broker an agreement and began by allowing the protesters back to Pearl Roundabout.

On Saturday February 19th I was still keenly watching what was happening around our complex, moving between the car park and our apartment windows, trying to see if anything was happening but the military seemed relaxed and staying in their positions, securing the roundabout. Messages on Facebook indicated that their presence would be withdrawn but from my vantage point it looked to me that they would be there for some time. Nothing seemed to be happening and my wife and I managed to drive away from the area for some much needed distraction of badminton (for my wife) and snooker (for me) at the excellent British Club, a short drive away but once inside a million miles from what we had witnessed.

We returned safely and without any problems to our apartment later in the afternoon and the first thing we did was to check the situation and for me, to report to others what was happening, which was nothing. Once again it was my wife who alerted me to something important happening downstairs after she went down later to check. She rushed into the apartment to tell me that the army had left and the police were shooting protesters again! I felt annoyed again (mainly for missing out on seeing the army leave, which I had felt was not going to happen and also for the fact that my wife got to see it before I did!) and once again raced downstairs with my camcorder to hopefully view the important events. I could not understand why the army would leave the area and yet the police would remain and be shooting the protesters.

Sure enough, when the elevator doors opened and we rushed to the edge of the car park walls we could see jubilant protesters with Bahrain flags running around the grassed area of the roundabout, stopping to bend down and pray, hugging each other, clapping, chanting and anything else they could think of. I saw no police and was looking quizzically at my wife whilst filming when once again the loud bangs associated with them were heard. A group of white-helmeted police had sprung out from behind the garden on one side of the roundabout and was trying to chase away the celebrators (they weren’t protesting) and had managed to grab a few of them. I was puzzled at the time but one must remember that the police fall under the jurisdiction of the Prime Minister who, it was later revealed, was not in favour of the roundabout being given back to the people. Just at that very point one of the men had broken away from the police and was running away. One policeman simply raised his shotgun and calmly shot him in the back. The man disappeared behind a tree so we could not see what had happened to him, but he was definitely not shot with tear gas or a sound bomb. I captured it all on video and felt that the whole exercise was simply an elaborate trap. Remove the army, allow the people back and then the police move in and cut them down. I was prepared to record the whole thing and show it to the world but just then a man who I had never seen before came up to me and asked me to stop filming. He was well-dressed and held a walkie-talkie. I was quite upset by seeing an unarmed man shot in the back and very angry that it was allowed to happen. More to the point, what was wrong with filming it? Surely I had a right to do so and I managed to tell this to the man, as well as quite a few words beginning with “f”. He appeared quite shocked by my outburst (as was my wife) and he immediately spoke Arabic into his walkie-talkie and hurried away. I took that as my cue to leave and, after a quick look at the roundabout (the police were now leaving, being taunted by the protesters as they did so) we went to the relative safety of our apartment.

I was quite worried inside the apartment and made sure the door was securely locked. My students had warned me earlier about being arrested and told me that the police in Bahrain were nothing like the police in Australia (and that’s saying something!) and some even advised me to leave our apartment. I knew that the man with the walkie-talkie had reported me to someone and sure enough there were men’s voices outside our door followed by the inevitable loud knock. I must admit that they did well to locate our apartment so quickly but I refused to answer the door. I had done nothing wrong (except some swearing) and they could knock all day for all I cared. The only thing that concerned me was if they decided to break down the door as our apartment belonged to a very nice couple who lived close by in Saudi Arabia. Eventually the knocking stopped and the voices left our floor. My wife and I were whispering about what we should do when my phone rang and it was our landlord calling! She told me that I was in big trouble and I needed to go and see the security men immediately. She advised me not to be silly about it and also told me that Bahraini prisons were not nice places to be (how I agree with her now!).

My wife and I ventured downstairs to find the walkie-talkie man and eventually saw him in the carpark talking to two other men. We walked up to them and I immediately apologised to the walkie-talkie man before the largest of the men introduced himself as the “security manager for the apartment complex”. I had never seen any of the three men before in the 14 months that I had been living there. The security manager told me that I had put him in a very difficult position by filming the protests because he was under orders from the Bahrain Ministry of Interior (responsible for law enforcement and public safety in Bahrain) not to allow any resident from the apartments to document anything taking place around us. He said that if it was discovered that a lot of filming had taken place he had the right to go through every apartment searching for cameras and inspecting computers, etc – and he did not want to do that. He said the best thing I could do was to delete all the film I had taken. I told him that I had already uploaded it all to YouTube and Mr. Walkie-Talkie said, “Oh no”. The security manager then told me that I needed to assure him that I would stop videotaping. “We know you work for the Polytechnic as an English teacher, we know your CPR (Civil Personal Record) number, we know that is your car over there, we know everything about you”, he said. I know he was trying to intimidate me and that most of this information would have been given to him by my landlady and the guy who operates the boom gate on the car park but I had no wish to make things any worse and so I agreed to delete my videos and not to take any more.

At the time I did not think much about it but I am now convinced that the three men I spoke to were all connected to the Ministry of Interior. As I mentioned, I had never seen them nor heard anything from them before and I only ever saw the third member of the trio again after this day. I am sure that my footage was either noticed by the Ministry staff or was referred to it and the men were sent to the apartment towers to put a stop to it. I ask again, why was there a ban on it if there was something the government did not want others to see?

Mr. Walkie-talkie accompanied my wife and I back to our apartment and he watched as I sat at the dining table and deleted all the video I had downloaded onto my computer and then did the same in front of him with my camcorder. He asked if I had any other film stored anywhere else, to which I said “no” and then I offered to give him my camcorder to prove I would stop filming. He took it and said I could collect it from him, probably in a few weeks. I must say, he was quite polite the whole time he was with us and my wife indeed was able to get our camcorder back.

I was relieved to be out of the “hot seat” at our apartment complex but a little disappointed that I could no longer help spread the truth if any further outbreaks of brutality were to occur at the roundabout. I still monitored the situation around us closely and even visited the proceedings and festivities outside to see for myself just how peaceful it was. My “reporting” days were over but little did I realise that my real problems were only just beginning.

Next blog: Return to work and a brief exile from the protests.

Tags: Bahrain