Held to answer

Antonio Zamora expects to wake up Monday morning in jail or on a park bench with a group of people. He could go to his mom’s place in Gresham, but what a letdown that would be after five weeks in Occupy Portland.

“I have experienced real prosperity here,” the 26-year-old PCC student said, a couple of days ago, standing by the small tent that has been his home. “When I heard they were going to shut us down by Sunday I was pissed off. … We are going to evolve.”

In the early days of Occupy Portland, Zamora seized on a chance to be useful.
“You see those tarps up there? I make sure they stay up and check for damage and see if I can improve them,” he said in October. “I go over to the library and the hospital (first aid station) and look for any problems.”

Zamora has done volunteer work in the past and had some internships, including one involving radical sustainable housing design – building homes out of tires.

“Nothing compared to this.”

After Mayor Sam Adams announced that Occupy Portland would have to clear out of Lownsdale and Chapman squares by 12:01 a.m. Sunday, Zamora crafted a shield for himself out of hard plastic. He envisioned using it to stave off police if forced to, especially if he had to pull someone to safety.

“I have some First Aid and CPR training. … One of the people in the medical tent who is studying EMT has been mentoring me.”

Zamora has been learning so much in the camp that he stopped going to classes at PCC, where he was studying sustainability. Occupy Portland is the biggest thing he has ever been involved in. He doesn’t want it to end.

“I am preparing for evolution… We’re going to give them a struggle, there is no point in giving up.”

For all his talk about jail and struggle, though, Zamora prepared to evacuate. He heard that smaller groups would break off and move to different Occupy zones in Portland. That appeals to him. So does jail.

“Gandhi went to jail.”

Zamora’s idealism was borne in front of a television – someone who has watched a disaster or crisis unfold and yearned do something to help, save some lives or at least offer comfort.

“My life has become self-actualized here,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to do this since the Haiti disaster.”

He recalled sitting around his living room after the earthquake in Haiti and thinking he was too content, that he should do more.

“Why am I not going?” he asked himself.

So why didn’t he go to Haiti?

Because he had nothing to offer. No skills, no training that would’ve been useful. Had he been an EMT or had the resources to build alternative housing, Zamora thinks he could have done some good in Haiti.

Did he see the large sign that had been posted outside the Engineering Tent?

No, he didn’t.

Next to the big tent that had held some of the equipment used by the Engineering Committee was a quote scrawled from a Nov. 6 New York Times Magazine story, “Can Anyone Really Create Jobs?” by Adam Davidson:  “It is clear that far too many Americans don’t know how to do anything that the world is willing to pay them a living wage for. No economic theory offers them easy salvation. We don’t need to become a nation of app designers. An economic downturn is a great time to learn things — carpentry, say, or aerospace engineering — that others will eventually pay for … .”

The quote on the sign cuts off there, but in the story after “pay for” there’s this: “high-school dropouts should get their degrees and a year of specialized training; high-school grads who can’t afford a four-year school should get a community-college degree.”

How will jail help Zamora help others?

“I’m probably going to end up in jail one way or another,” he said. “I have taken direct action against Wal-Mart. … I took $500 in goods.”

They were things to better himself – not to sell for drugs, he added. A chop saw, for instance. He has yet to do the community service that was ordered.

As the midnight deadline approached Saturday, Zamora’s tent was gone. The crowd, estimated at 5,000, for much of the night partied and chanted like fans at a football game: “Whose park? Our park! … Whose street? Our street!”

They taunted police, “You’re sexy! You’re cute! Take off the riot suit! … Too big to jail!”

That latter chant proved true. When officers in riot gear lined Third Street in front of the Justice Center, they seemed ready to press forward against Occupiers – until protesters moved en masse from the park into the street, and police retreated sideways down the block.

In the middle of this chaos, someone furiously waved a sign – “Modify Loans” – a reminder that all of this started with a protest in New York called Occupy Wall Street.

As a result of Mayor Adams allowing Occupy Portland to camp at Chapman and Lownsdale squares, the parks now look trashed. And Zamora and the others who pitched their tents?

As the night turned into morning, a few protesters talked of making a 7-Eleven run. One young man, who identified himself as a supporter but not an occupier of the park, told a KATU reporter that he was headed to McDonald’s.

Maybe he’ll bump into Zamora, if he didn’t take up the police bureau’s offer to accommodate those who wanted to be arrested. Over Big Macs and fries, the two young men can plan the next stage of their evolution.

Eventually they might come to realize that their enemy is not sexy, not cute and doesn’t need a riot suit.

– Pamela Fitzsimmons