In Alicante, Spain peace was not forgotten

By Andrea Hellmann
Adelante contributor

Los manifestantes abarrotaron la Rambla y la Avenida de Alfonso el Sabio. FRANCISCO GUILLEN

Los manifestantes, con símbolos antiamericanos. FRANCISCO GUILLEN

ALICANTE, SPAIN — They laughed as theymarched and jumped as they chanted; they demonstrated beautifully.
Enjoying the peace of a war-free world, 60,000 people went to the streets to beg for the peace to continue. On Feb. 15, Alicante´s citizens did not fester anger, they only hoped.
Drawn to the peace demonstration by word-of-mouth and foot-by-foot posters saying, “No a la Guerra,” ( “No to the War”), grandmothers, hippies and toddlers corralled together, joined in a common cause. Alicante´s main streets, normally six lanes of merciless cars and buses, transformed into a massive, public party.
Walking as fast as the slowest person, one-fifth of the population swarmed through Alicante´s streets in a two-kilometer plea for peace. With the chaotic quality of Mardi Gras and a crowd too large to control, only a few police were present, directing the parade-like procession with their blue, spinning patrol lights.
Signs bearing white doves and peace signs floated above the chaos like haunting ghosts. Alicante begged to be heard. About ninety percent of Spain´s population, the largest in Europe, does not want a war with Iraq and does not support Spanish President José Maria Aznar’s decision to support the United States. Under the mercy of those beyond their control, people carried signs asking Aznar to listen to their cries. (“Aznar escucha a los españoles...”)
Huddling as they walked, people wore tightly buttoned coats and thick, wooly scarves to fight the nipping wind shaking the palm trees above.
Two children stood on a street corner, each holding an umbrella to protect themselves from the fat, chilling raindrops that fell from above in sporadic bursts. On the tip of each umbrella they stuck a sticker saying, “No a la Guerra.”
An old woman hobbled along with the crowd as her husband began chanting, “No a la Guerra.” As he began, the trend caught on and those around him began chanting along, spreading from the core. Some hopped in unison as they chanted, creating a massive, hopping, chanting clan.
Others hugged in close to a bearded man carrying a guitar, transforming the chant into a song.
Three teenagers pushed a young, brown-haired man in a wheelchair. His two legs stuck out in front of him as he rhythmlessly beat on a drum he held between his thighs.
With no schedule and no rules a sense of freedom whipped through the people like wind. Each experienced the demonstration for him/herself.
As they marched along, three 20-year-olds wordlessly took turns sipping from a 40-oz. beer bottle hidden within the plastic folds of a grocery bag. Tranquilly lost in the swarm of people, nobody cared enough to stop them.
Another man with a head of dirty straw entered the sidelines of the procession from a dark, empty side street. He climbed on top of a two-foot post and silently rolled a joint. Watching the crowd as he smoked, he finished and slipped back into the shadows.
Outside of the demonstration, the city stood dead. Apartments loomed over the busy streets dark and empty. The occasional glaring light stood out to a tamed eye. On one side of the street six buses stood ready in line, warm and ready to help carry one-fifth of the Alicante back to their homes.
Like bottlerockets, occasional high-pitched whistles pierced through the air and periodic gun-shot fireworks followed by a dynamite-like explosion left the crowd in a stunned silence.
From the sidewalk, seven young children cheered, each looking over the side of a long, slanted sidewalk ornament built into the city. As one child slipped down the gentle slope, a mother standing behind him quickly corrected his mistake.
Occasionally, the procession stopped and would form an opening in which eight people ran. Each carried a gigantic sparkler that spit glorious white sparks from a circle rotating on top of a three-foot pole.
Blue and pink fleece caps danced through the air as new fathers carried their young children through the crowd on their shoulders. The mothers pushed large, empty strollers alongside them.
A group of 20 dred-locked hippies suddenly began hurdling down the sidewalk, like a pack of bulls singing and screaming, ¨No a la Guerra.¨
After an hour and a half, many grew restless from the cold and rain. The immense crowd quickly moved from the streets to the bars. With an infant child in one arm and a beer in the other, people tried to get warm before making the trek back home. People´s cheeks looked bare and rosy as they walked into the small, cozy bars. They shed their coats, ordered a beer, and went on hoping.

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