Let me start off by stating that I am not a spokesperson and reminding you that everyone is a spokesperson. I am simply your humble narrator.
I entered the room to find everyone hard at work. After exchanging greetings I set to assembling my Guy Fawkes mask. I found the mood to be more pensive than festive but certainly communal. Though I had not met any of my confederates prior to the evening's events, I was made to feel welcome.
We spoke about elements of the legend of Guy Fawkes, a revolutionary standing against the tide of oppression in occupied territory. We too are in occupied territory. After viewing an interesting documentary about what would have happened if the Gunpowder Plot had succeeded, we prepared for the rest of the evening's festivities. Part political statement, part performance art, all devoted to reclaiming Guy Fawkes Day.
In the spirit of the evening, we opted to burn an effigy of our own, of someone many of us considered to be a true traitor: The Right Honourable Prime Minster Stephen Harper. The cartoonish effigy, with its stuffed shirt and balloon shaped head bore a striking resemblance to the PM, all that was missing was the silly sweater vest. The eyes of the effigy were equally as vacant as those of the Prime Minister. It should be noted that there was no discussion of personal animosity towards Stephen Harper, the man. He is just anther grey faced, dead-eyed cog in the machine. I suppose we could have burned a flag but it was Guy Fawkes Day.
Those of us who chose to participate in the statement (let's call us the Vs) spoke about our plans should we encounter any undue police attention from Victoria's swine-est. We were secure in the fact that our march was, on its face, to be conducted in accordance with the law.
We donned out masks and set forth on our quest to Parliament. The streets of Victoria were all but deserted. An abandoned copy of The Street Newz swirled in a vestibule, marking the spot where one of the city's powerless likely sat hours earlier hoping for a few coins in exchange for a different message. We marched past, determined, not powerless, with a message of our own.
The reaction of the occasional pedestrian and Wednesday night bar crowd to the Vs in formation was not one of fear but intrigue. Periodic chants of "Remember, Remember the Fifth of November" rose fell with our footsteps. One of the Vs, turned to me and said "People should not be afraid of their government." I replied, "Governments should be afraid of their people."
We arrived in front of Parliament and those tasked with delivering the effigy did so. The effigy was laid in state and set subsequently set ablaze. Now, as I indicated at the onset of this account, I am your humble narrator, not photographer. Ergo, I apologize for the lackluster photographs. I briefly watched the effigy burn, surrounded by the Vs, with the Parliament building's glowing silhouette in the background. The glowing silhouette of the Parliament buildings made them appear as mere scaffolding as opposed to a looming institutional symbol. How appropriate.
As a lone flashlight approached from the upper part of the grounds, the Vs took their leave, with one of them punctuating the statement by engaging in a little pyrotechnical merriment.
We all went about our separate ways some running, some via critical mass, some disappearing into the shadows.
As I departed I looked back over my shoulder to see the flames still slightly flickering from the smoldering, charred remains of the effigy. I smiled to myself and though, "Finally, a carbon footprint to be proud of…"
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