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I awoke naturally with rays of sunlight peering in through the portion of the window unimpeded by the curtain. It was about 08:30. More than enough time for coffee and breakfast before setting off for Westminster and the Free Assange Human Chain event in support of the Australian publisher and activist Julian Assange.
My mum is with me. She had to be to push my wheelchair-bound butt all over London. She agreed to go on this protest with me after I gave her the book The Trial of Julian Assange: A Story of Persecution by the UN Special Rapporteur on Torture, Nils Melzer.
I had porridge. Mother had a Full English, fully expecting, I believe, to be beaten around the head with a truncheon at the protest, despite my reassuring her that this was only going to be a photo-op. I think she thought ‘if I’m going to go out, I’m going out in style’. Perhaps she felt this way from seeing what the police did to an extremely elderly Eric Levy, an activist callously manhandled into a police wagon.
We arrived at the gathering point at about 11:30. There were already people there handing out leaflets, armbands and headbands. Interestingly, I noticed only one political party represented with a strong and noticeable presence. Once Big Ben struck midday, it was time to get moving to surround Parliament in a human chain — a feat never before attempted in human history.
Pictured: Julian Assange has many supporters - and opponents.
You would have thought that such a feat would have garnered more media attention, but I’ve long since lost all faith in the mainstream media to tell the truth about anything which has substantial implications for their own government. The implication being that the British government, at the behest of the American government, is more than willing to torture an innocent man for the crime of reporting the crimes of others.
Initially, we tried to make our contribution to the human chain standing — sitting, in my case — in front of the Houses of Parliament ready to link arms with our comrades. Before being instructed to “move on” by an organiser ostensibly because there were “too many people bunched up on this side”. We complied. And went to our left on our little ‘long walk to [Julian’s] freedom’.
We went along Parliament Square Garden, undeterred by the steps leading up to Westminster Bridge, especially since there were so many kind-hearted people there more than happy to offer a hand. At the Bridge, we were handed chalk to write — in a word — what we felt about the case. As I could never do that, I gave mum a poem I wrote about Assange after reading about his first post-Belmarsh Prison court appearance written by his friend, the former British ambassador to Uzbekistan, the Rt. Hon. Craig Murray.
We went searching for a spot along the human chain where mum could jot it down. Ending up on the other side of the Bridge, we were still searching for a spot where we could write it. Then I heard mum’s voice behind me saying “Look J, they’ve done it”, directing my attention to the other bridge. Where hundreds of people were amassed, all linking arms.
Pictured: Jamie Rowe.
All thoughts of copying out a poem for Julian left me. We had to become a link in the chain. We asked a very kind mother and daughter from Belgium if we could cut into the chain. They were but two of the many Europeans we met on our little ‘long walk to [Julian’s] freedom’.
And there we were. With me holding mum’s hand in my left and the kind Belgian mother’s hand in my right. When someone shouted “THERE’S ONLY ONE DECISION”, that was our cue to shout “NO EXTRADITION”.
I had long since resolved that ‘to lose one’s voice for an innocent man’s freedom is a noble act’. So I shouted too. Why is that a big deal for me? Well, I can’t shout. I can’t even speak. Whether it was understandable is not for me to say. Nevertheless, I think that people got the message.
If we don’t have a Fourth Estate then we have fascism — and for that reason I am proud to say: Free Julian Assange now.
My name’s Jamie. I enjoy writing and I’m finally in the job market. In spite of finding the prospect of employment daunting, I see it as a necessary step towardsreaching full adulthood. I suppose I have a few more challenges than most. What you might take for granted – such as making a phone call, getting to an interview, and getting from home and back again – can present a great number of hurdles for me.
Pictured: Jamie Rowe at the Free Assange protest.
The practical considerations include that I can’t talk, I can’t drive, and I can’t walk. There was a time when I felt a no hoper. I would still think like that if it wasn’t for the help I’ve had recently from a local charity.
As I’m sure you can imagine, the next employment barrier that faces me is accessibility of the building. I realise that I’m quite lucky in that I’m strong and can use that strength to hurl myself about like a ragdoll. Others aren’t so lucky, so a ramp at the location is an absolute must.
And then there is the final concern, which is socialisation in the workplace. For me, this will be an entirely different kettle of fish. As I’m someone who de-socialised at a young and awkward age — 14 — I’m probably looking forward to this aspect least. But I’ve been working on confidence building and, slowly but surely, I’m getting there.
