After a long sojourn in London, journalist Gulnura Toralieva had just returned to her country on April 6, 2010 after her family heard of riots in the small town of Talas, which made headlines in world media. The protests were against price rise, nepotism and corruption in President Kurmanbeck Bakiyev’s rule. Little did she know it was the beginning of the end of Bakiyev.

After the tiring travel to Bishkek with a two-monthold baby, I had a long sleep on April 7 morning, but the anxiety did not leave me even in my dreams. We had left London in a hurry the day before when the news about bloody riots in the small provincial northern town of Talas trickled in. I didn’t know this was the first bird of revolution against the Bakiyev regime. The last one in the history of the young post-Soviet country, Kyrgyzstan, had taken place in 2005 without taking too great a toll on human lives. That Wednesday became the blackest day for many of us as about 300 people died and more than a thousand were injured in the short-lived rebellion.

By lunchtime, I had made up my mind to go to Bishkek’s main squire to see what was happening, although my colleagues and my family warned me that it was very dangerous. I was scared when the shooting started but no one had expected the snipers on the roofs of the Kyrgyz White House (presidential palace and government house) and nearby buildings to actually open fire and shoot down protesters on the streets, killing them.

Sheltered corner
I took shelter in a building about 500 meters from the house of government, which demonstrators were trying to storm but couldn’t because of the snipers. A journalist from a London newspaper called my mobile phone just at that time and asked me what was happening in Bishkek. I told him that government troops were killing people and I couldn’t see how many had been killed and injured because of the smoke bombs.

Two other journalists thencame into my hiding place andwe saw aggressive young people throwing stones and glass bottlesat policemen. I did not know how togo back home, my car was parked in another street, about two km away.I was so shocked by the turn of events that I forgot to use my phonecamera.

The weeping crusader
After half an hour, one of the journalists hiding with me told me that we should attempt to run to an ambulance car, parked not too far away. We found a brave woman doctor going into the government building and demanding that the firing be stopped. She was crying.

The driver told us that he could not ferry us because he had to carry the injured to the hospital. After two injured people were commuted to the hospital, the driver let me go with him and dropped me to the street where my car was parked.

I do not remember how I drove back home. Only when I saw my baby did I understand that I was safe and how much I loved my family. I did not tell anyone what I had just experienced.

Stocking up on provisions
I lived close to the main square, I heard the shooting and peoples’ shouts and screams. Yet, my father and I decided to go to the nearby market to buy basic provisions. There were a lot people in the market, sweeping up everything on the small shops’ counters. Journalists from other regions of the country called me and wanted to know if the protestors in the squire would be able to drive the President, his family and his cronies away. My colleagues were frightened but hoped for change.

Transmitting chaos
My mobile phone was ready to explode as journalists from the USA, England, Ukraine, Russia, Romania, Georgia, Kazakhstan and Tajikistan were all calling me and asking about the situation. Others kept in touch via the online social networks. I did not notice that my mother had put my son to sleep. It was only very early next morning that I came to hug the baby and go to sleep.

The writer is the Chair of Journalism and Mass Communicatios Department at the American University of Central Asia