It’s day 27. Once again, I’m sitting in the

middle of a highway. Behind me I hear the

roaring sound of a water cannon changing its

aim. On my right sits Nicky, on my left Niels.

They’re both wearing lab coats, showing

that they are scientists. I’m staring at the

red and blue letters of the banner that is

draped over my knees. It reads: “end fossil

fuel subsidies”. Nicky and I are pressed

together – we’re sharing a plastic raincoat in

a feeble attempt to shield us from the water

cannon. There are dozens of other people

around us, with and without lab coats. Some

of them are singing, others are quiet. I look

behind me and see that the f ierce beam of

the water cannon is coming closer. I brace

myself, waiting for the impact. The ice water

jolts my body and I’m shoved forward. I’m

soaking wet, from head to toe, but at least

the water cannon stopped. In a few moments

I’ll be taken away by the police, but Niels is

f irst. When he doesn’t get up immediately,

three policemen hover over him and pull on

his arms and neck. I hear him crying out in

pain, calling for them to stop. Anger rises in

me and a heat wave rushes through my body.

Why is this necessary? Tears burn behind

my eyes. But then I feel an arm around my

shoulder. Nicky looks up at me, and asks

“Are you okay?”. I smile at her and feel my

body sighing with relief. I’m so glad she’s

here with me. Warmth and gratitude replace

my anger. I remember why I am here, and

feel ready to be taken away by the police. We

are here together, and together we will be

heard.

Simone Burger