What I Saw at the Demonstration part 2 of 2

Slow, morrnful traditional Chinese music played over the intercom. I was in the park, but stayed to the periphery where I continued to take pictures. Finally, just after 3:00, someone took to the podium.

This vigil that was intended to give voice to Hong Kong's outrage at the Philippines, began while the demonstrators were surrounded by hundreds of Indonesian and Filippino domestic helpers who were enjoying their Sunday afternoon picnics on the sidewalks surrounding the park. Many of the domestic helpers had tied yellow ribbons to their wrists.

Most of the speeches were in Chinese, so I didn't know what they were saying. No translation was needed for the three-minute moment of silence.

After a few more rather subdued speeches, the rally-goers slowly moved to the street, where the obliging police had roped off two lanes. I walked with the crowd, but chose to walk on the sidewalk rather than in the steet among the demonstrators.

As we walked, I asked a man why he was here today. At first he started to explain to me that last week in the Philippines, a bus full of Hong Kong tourists . . . . I interupted him to let him know that I knew about the hostage-situation-gone-wrong, but I wanted to know why he choose to come to this public rally today. He told me he was angry at the Filippino government. Over the course of our ninety minute march, I asked several more people the same question. They gave me the same answer.

Finally, hot and exhausted we reached our destination: a park in Central. I was anticipating rally part two with more speeches, but I was wrong. Instead there was a spot where people had been leaving flowers. A table had been set up with oversized cards for well wishers to leave their condolences. Marchers -either spontaneously or by design- took off their yellow ribbons and started tying them to the railing in front of two large banners.

The rally and the march filled the need for a significant number of Hong Konger to give public airing to their grief and outrage.

Dehydrated and exhausted, I crossed the busy street and ducked into the MTR station. I began my 45-minute train ride home.