Canadians caught in Tibet's violence
By Bill Schiller, Asia Bureau of Toronto Star
BEIJING - For 19-year-old John Kenwood of Victoria B.C., his worst
Lhasa moment was witnessing a Chinese motorcyclist being pummelled
unconscious by a mob hurling chunks of pavement as big as bricks.
"He may have died," Kenwood said last night. "I can't be certain."
For Vancouver-born Alex Sinclair, 40, it was the agonizing time he
spent cowering in a stairwell in the post office of Tibet's capital as
machine-gun fire exploded all around him. "I honestly feared for my
life," he said.
But Susan Wetmore of London, Ont., wasn't prepared to specify her
worst moment last night.
Not yet.
"Let's just say we're struggling with what we've seen," the 59-year-
old consultant confided. "Some of it was pretty ugly . . . pretty
ugly."
Wetmore is one of eight Canadians who have been caught up in the worst
violence in Tibet in 20 years. She fears there's more to come.
"There's been a lot of killing here already," Wetmore said in an
interview yesterday. "I think there's going to be a lot more.
"The safest place for me - is to be out of here."
With Chinese troops pouring into the Tibetan capital yesterday, and an
ultimatum for instigators of last week's riots to surrender to Chinese
authorities by midnight today, those staying behind are bracing for
the worst.
At least four eyewitnesses told the Star they had seen a convoy of
between 70 and 100 vehicles, including tanks, carrying between 2,000
and 3,000 Chinese troops.
Last night, Wetmore said she was thankful she had a Chinese driver
"who literally risked his life" to get her to Lhasa's Gonggar air****t.
"We had to cross 10 police checkpoints and at every one I had to show
a letter, explaining my cir***stances, that had been translated by my
guide.
"Without that, I never would have got here."
Wetmore is no novice traveller. A consultant with a Toronto-based non-
profit organization that provides volunteer consulting to developing
countries, she's been to hot spots before.
But never for a vacation.
The trip to Tibet was her gift to herself in advance of her 60th
birthday. "This wasn't quite the trip I'd planned," she said.
Meanwhile, Kenwood said yesterday that Lhasa's main street, Beijing
Lu, was still strewn with garbage and the burned-out hulks of torched
vehicles.
"It's a ghost town. Every third, fourth or fifth shop has been burned
to a crisp. I'm sure lots of people lost their lives in those fires,"
he said.
Riots broke out Friday after a week of demonstrations that marked the
49th anniversary of Tibet's failed uprising against Chinese rule.
China's military took over Tibet in 1951.
Kenwood recalls seeing four or five military trucks driving by on
Lhasa's main street Friday when someone emerged from the crowd
brandi****ng a piece of pavement, and hurled it through the front
wind****eld of the first vehicle.
The soldiers formed "a kind of Roman-legion style barricade with their
****elds," he said, and immediately the Tibetans began breaking up the
sidewalks and throwing chunks at the soldiers, screaming "Free Tibet!"
Later, the real mayhem began when buses and motorcyclists were stopped
and anything that had Chinese markings was targeted to be burned,
smashed or looted.
Then the worst happened: a Chinese man on a smart-looking motorcycle
was forced by stone throwers to come to a halt.
"He didn't seem to understand what was going on," said Kenwood. "He
was wearing a gold helmet and he got off his bike and raised his arms.
He didn't know what to do."
A mob of perhaps 15 men carrying what appeared to be two-metre long,
silver poles began beating him. When he went down, they continued to
beat and kick him.
"Then they took off his golden helmet and beat him with it.
"I can't confirm that he was dead," said Kenwood who is taking a year
off school before going to university. "But I think he was. There was
blood everywhere. His face was unrecognizable."
Sinclair, a university college lecturer now living in Britain, said he
feels both sides had been preparing for the confrontation.
He noted that on Thursday, Chinese police boarded a bus he was on en
route to Samye Monastery.
"They didn't look at pass****ts," he said. "They were just taking monks
and nuns off - not civilians, not foreigners. Looking back, that
suggests to me that the Chinese authorities knew there was going to be
some kind of uprising."
When rioting did erupt, Sinclair sought refuge in Lhasa's post office,
squeezing into their courtyard moments before they closed the gate.
Although they experienced understandable fear throughout the ordeal,
Wetmore, Kenwood and Sinclair all spoke of how well they had been
treated by Chinese authorities and Tibetan hosts.
"We've seen some pretty amazing stuff," said Wetmore, "some pretty sad
and very frightening stuff.
"But we've also been treated very, very well and been looked after."
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