Media not spared in attacks on protesters

JAN BORNMAN tells how he became part of the story he was covering after being assaulted by a private security guard at the University of Johannesburg

FOR much of Wednesday, I watched students being threatened, pepper-sprayed and intimidated by private security guards at the University of Johannesburg — not realising that I, too, would soon be on the receiving end of their heavyhanded antics.

Amid rumours that UJ students were planning to mobilise on Wednesday, some media colleagues and I managed to get onto the Auckland Park Kingsway campus, where graduation ceremonies for law students were taking place.

We looked around to see if any #FeesMustFall activists were gathering, but private security guards were quick to disperse any attempts by students to gather and sing songs.

More than once, the guards pepper-sprayed students and one of my colleagues, and threatened to spray any bystanders filming them.

They chased us and the students off campus, with some chasing students into Westdene Park. We followed because at that point the guards had gone beyond their mandate to protect university property.

Rocks flew between the students and guards, but this died down when the police arrived.

That afternoon, we followed students as they peacefully marched to the main campus. When they got there, the gates were closed. Behind the gates were 10 to 20 security guards with shields.

The students decided to march to the Doornfontein campus. Police agreed to lead them, if they were disciplined. They arrived to find the same guards waiting, armed with shields, batons, sticks and rocks.

Suddenly, the possibility of violence was heightened as students were adamant to be let in. One student leader pulled at the gate, shouting to be let in. More students stepped forward, prompting the guards to rush out and attack students and journalists.

One of my colleagues was pepper-sprayed and hit over the head and in the stomach with what appeared to be a baton.

Another was pepper-sprayed because he refused to stop filming on his cellphone.

The attack caught police off guard. Students retreated to Joe Slovo Drive, throwing rocks and bottles. A group of us made our way to the Joe Slovo bridge, thinking we would be safer on higher ground. But the guards chased the students. Protesters were attacked at a petrol station around the corner.

A group of us were approached by guards. They threw stones, rocks — whatever they could lay their hands on — at us, ignoring our shouts of “We’re media, we’re media”.

They surrounded me and five other journalists, and some students. The guards, holding sticks and rocks, asked who the media were and ordered us to sit down. We obeyed, bar one colleague, who refused. A guard grabbed him by the throat and he was struck on the head.

The guards were agitated and aggressive, and struck a female photographer in the face with a baton. They sprayed pepper spray over the group, and hit other journalists.

One of the guards hit me on the head with his hand. I was stunned, but he had moved away before I could respond.

Moments later he grabbed my camera and asked: “What is this? Give it to me.” I held on, and luckily he let go.

It was unclear what the reason for the attack was. Perhaps they blamed the media for the clashes, or for their injuries. Maybe they were agitated that they could be identified after assaulting students and reporters, and even throwing rocks at police.

But they were very hostile. After a few of us were hit, they let us go. We hurried away, checking if everyone was OK. Shaken, we made our way to other journalists, who were with the police.