By now we've all seen the images. Images of rage, anger, fury at the people in charge. I will not enter the space in my mind that debates whether these feelings are justified or not.
They charged, they broke, they looted and ridiculed the whole country.
In all this chaos my mind is foggy. From this side of the world, the discussion seems almost laughable. People tend to make this into a joke, and ridicule it.
I agree to some extend but once I get to explain it in my mind only one image comes up.
The image of the security guard. Whilst people are storming the building with rage, a roaring crowd that pushes aside all that's living. Within all this, there is the image of the security guard.
He stands at the side of the screen, filmed by an angry protester, trying to tend the mass.
Not with courage, not with confidence or self-assuredness. With fear. With blatant and undeniable fear. He tries to push back the crowd but fails. He is alone, his colleage is lost.
He desperately tries to push people away, trying to keep a little space for his plumb body, but he is cornered. The mob is angry and pushes on, his voice and will are lost in their rage.
I see his face, I look at it with my own fright. In his eyes I see the fear of a boy. A boy that was raised to believe joining the police or security force has something justifying. That is has something heroic or patriotic.
A boy that perhaps went to work that day, thinking it would be like any other, joking with his colleagues. A boy that for the first time in his life feels drained with fear.
Forgetting about himself in the process of trying to save himself. The fear that a man feels the first time he sees true and imminent violence.
There is nothing left of the patriotic or heroic man, that went to work this morning. I fear that if this escalates, we will have way more of those images.
The crowd had left, the peace has been restored. I log into my laptop and read the title: 52 arrestations, 4 dead
I wonder whether the boy got home.