What Happened in Bahrain

“It is nothing,” said our Indian driver. “Nothing at all… No issues.” He waved towards the cars driving alongside us. “See… These are all in support of the government. They are all enjoying themselves. Kids and all…”

I looked to my left. Young men, families with children, cars full of merriment – all drove slowly past with smiles and laughter, Bahraini flags waving, and the picture of the Bahraini King gracing their vehicles. Men cheered, some posed, some took pictures. I was still unconvinced.

“But this is near the airport,” I said. “What about the images they’ve been showing on TV? The Pearl roundabout? The Shia areas?”

“The Shia areas, yes, there is a bit of a problem. The police are all waiting there. If they do something, they will catch them. But the Pearl roundabout… You know, I just came from there. People are there picnicking, having food. Children are circling around on their bicycles.”

I smiled and sat back, finally somewhat relaxed. This was the Bahrain I knew – soft, gentle, leisurely: even in its protests. Of course there was often report of some trouble, some little unrest in the Shia areas – but we never saw it, never felt it. Bahrain was just the same as we had left it a few days ago, if a little more crowded on the roads.

When we reached home, I reassured my parents that all was well – all they had seen on TV was just some media hype. In peace, my husband and I went to sleep.

And the Bahrain we knew changed overnight.

My husband left for his office. He found the main roads blocked by police, and he made his was through backstreets, through the highway – any where except for his normal route, on the main roads. What little he could of them see was covered with rocks, and left over rubber bullets. Rubber covered steel bullets, as we later learned.

Protesters – the remnants of last night – still sat on the sidelines, rocks in hand. But they sat quietly, dejected. No one paid any attention to my husband. When he finally reached his office, it was closed. And slowly, he made his way back.

It was then that we found out. During the night, at 3 am, when all the protesters camped out in pearl roundabout were asleep, the police surrounded them without warning. A long, straight bridge overlooks Pearl roundabout on one side. The police lined this with their cars. Police cars also blocked the only other side that was open. The protesters were trapped.

It was then that they opened fire, and threw so much tear gas at the peacefully camped protesters that they could barely see a foot ahead of them. It was then that they sent waves upon waves of policemen, to beat the people with batons.

Later on, they said that the protesters had been warned.

Yes, of course they had been warned. That was why men, women and children were sleeping peacefully at their camp at 3 am, without any lookout.

Later on, they also said they found some pistols and swords (swords!?) at the camp. 

Yes, of course. The protesters were looking for trouble. That was why they were with their families. Asleep.

They say that the ambulances were blocked – delayed – from getting to the protesters. Even the doctors and nurses were beaten. Some people died on the spot – one or two died later in the hospitals. Hundreds are injured. Some are still missing.

In the morning, after the police had caused this devastation, the army tanks rolled in. They are still parked there, in case of trouble. Helicopters are flying above our heads, just in case. Just in case.

The world has been shocked by the Bahraini government’s response. The message is clear. You raise your voice, and we will crush you. Not negotiate with you, not quiet you, not even shove you aside. We will crush you.

This was not the Bahrain I knew. This was not the Bahrain anyone knew – not the international organizations, not the other governments, not even its own people.

Kudos to you, Mr. Dictator and family. You had us all fooled.