The first few days....

25 Jan. First day of protest— though no one really knew what to expect. My internship explicitly prohibits participation in political events and demonstrations thus I only have accounts from friends.

My friend Emily and her Egyptian friend went out to the main square on Gamat el Dawal St. in Mohandeseen (a big neighborhood in Cairo). They arrived at 2pm, the supposed start time, to an empty plaza. Within five minutes, still alone in the square, her Egyptian friend started to curse the apathetic nature of Egyptians. And just as the curses started crowds flooded from three subsidiary streets. Hundreds from each direction, chanting, and waving their banners. She said it was just like in the movies!

Two of my Egyptians friends went to Tahrir that night and found amazing displays of solidarity and nationalism. People were beginning to set up camp, others walked around handing out sandwiches and blankets. For the first time that anybody could remember people from all socio-economic classes and men and women sat and chatted. My Egyptian friends said they actually felt a sense of eing Egyptian that night and were proud to be so. My foreign friend and I dually noted the change in sentiment and solidarity.

One of my first undergrad classes focused on the idea of nationalism. What creates a sense of nationalism? Similar language, religion, ethnicity or simply a common government and boundaries. Many Egyptians are proud of the history of their “mother-land” and contributions to society and of course nationalism is high during national soccer (football) matches, but other than that, this abstract concept is rather difficult to define. This Tuesday was a start to a whole new definition here in Egypt.

One of my classmates you could easily call a “protest-junkie.” She lives for this kind of stuff so, of course, she was in the front lines all day. We phoned throughout the day just to make sure we’re still alive and she shared some amazing stories. She emerged from the metro just as police started throwing tear gas. She said it stung like hell but she didn’t pass out! (there’s always a positive!)
As people started throwing rocks, the surrounding Egyptian men picked her up and threw her over the barricade to protect her. In Cairo usually the only time a man touches a women on the street is for his own pleasure. Not only had she been smashed against them with no groping but they had protected her. Quite a change of events in and of itself. She recounted that one of the most amazing moments however was during the rock fight during the call to prayer. (All mosques have loud speakers from which a man sings/chants five times a day throughout the entire city). She said the prayer started and all protestors immediately stopped throwing rocks to form prayer lines on the street. As they were praying, the police stood w/ arms cocked and loaded. Rather caught of guard, of course they couldn’t throw a rock at people praying!
She has some amazing pics and stories of a life time.

That Tuesday, not knowing what to expect and prohibited from participating, I had left my apt in the early morning and spent the day in Nasr City, a quiet neighborhood on the developing edge of Cairo. Seeing how things were still unpredictable I watched BBC all night w/ my British friend in her out-of-the-way apartment. Wed. morning I taxied home through eerily normal streets. I heard through news and friends that police descended and tear gassed the peaceful protesters around 1am.

Wed. 26
The city felt on edge all day. The unprecedented events and moments of nationalism had been physically cleared by the police earlier that morning, yet the mental images were still raw. That day I went for coffee with a new friend and did some errands. Everybody walked the streets with a bit of hesitation. It was just an awkward day.

Thurs. 27
Thursday morning was about the same. I took a long walk to Zamalek, an island in the middle of Cairo, and had lunch w/ a friend. That night a group of us even went out for a drink. Again it felt like a day in waiting with most discussions focused on hypothesizing scenarios for Egypt to come. Word was that Friday, after prayer, was going to be powerful and most likely violent.

Friday 28
My apartment is two blocks from Tahrir and on direct route to the Ministry of the Interior. I didn’t want to get stuck and nobody knew what to expect. So, contrary to cultural traditions, my friend Amr arranged that I stay with his family. I got up early Friday morning to make the family some cookies, took a shower then taxied to Nasr City. Not completely ready to just arrive at his house especially knowing that there were all to pray, I told him that I’d call him from Starbucks.

I arrived at Starbucks, bought a latte and settled in to read. I waited, intentionally about 45 minutes, then called. There was no network. Facebook, twitter and other electronic social networks were intermittent since Tuesday and now down as internet had been out all morning. To cut off all mobile communication was rather shocking.

It was 11am, things were supposed to erupt slightly after 12. People with scarves wrapped around their necks, big glasses on their head whispered in excitement of protests. Amr was sleeping- he usually sleeps through the mid-afternoon on Fridays. I had no network, no address and couldn’t return home. I sat, breathed and waited in hesitant confidence that Amr would come and get me.
Luckily, within 15 min, he came and my slowly growing anxiety subsided. 

While it started peaceful, things did erupt on Friday. Friends walked from Nasr City and Heliopolis to downtown (about a 1.5hr walk).

We watched T.V. news from Aena wa Gedu’s (Grandma and Grandpa’s) house all evening. It was only in Arabic so I had rather sparse comprehension of all the events. Still no phones or internet. We saw images of political buildings on fire. The military was called in and they were rather received as friends of the people and foes of the police. Rumors started that the police began to release prisoners from the prisons to wreak more havoc on the protesters and the city itself.

No internet, no cell phones. Luckily, I had a new “family” and was safe. I had no ideas about my classmates and co-workers…

Saturday morning I woke around 10 with cell phone reception. Ahumdililah! Calls in and out came quickly as I took inventory of my friends. Maggie had decided to stay in her apartment just above the Ministry of Interior, she was all but stuck in her apartment and passed a night filled with sounds and images of war. Rosa had been shot three times with pellets, and tear gassed but overall was ok. Most were making plans to evacuate.

Amr and I went to Spinneys (like Target- kind of) to stock up on supplies and food for the family. It was a mad house. As we started our shopping at 1pm they announced that they were closing for security reasons. We stood in the check out line for over an hour. People looked tense and tired- already. Mini- fights broke out in lines as people pushed to pay and get back home. The way home was tense. All shops were closed. Some barred. The heavy pollution only added to the anxious scene. People were practically standing in the middle of the road looking for a taxi or micro-bus to take them home. There was no calm before the storm.

We arrived home around 3:30 to find that a curfew from 4pm to 8 am. Again, a new experience.

Getting intense…
Saturday night was probably the most intense. I tired as much as possible to stay in contact with Maggie and Rosa. I’ve never been so grateful for phone reception. Rosa saw four people shot and killed right in front of her. Then she came home and the building across from ours was in flames. The next morning it was flooded as a water main had broken.

That night I called Rosa at least every hour. She was alone in the apt, building around were on fire and the street below was a literal war zone and she couldn’t make outgoing calls.

I talked to Maggie also about every hour. At one point our conversation was interrupted by a knock on her door. It was a police man only half in uniform, he came to beg for civilian clothes and few pounds to escape the area. For her security she refused to open the door but as she looked out the window she saw police men taking off their uniforms on the street and fleeing.

For part of the night, Amr and I just sat on the couch, not knowing what else to do. CNN and BBC only reported that Tahrir Sq was finally peaceful and the crowds were plentiful. They paid NO attention to the raging war that was happening just two blocks away! Rocks, bullets, tanks, military, police, civilians. Shops being looted and who knew if/when our building would catch fire too.

Maggie called and said that shooting from the inside the Ministry had stopped and angry protestors were pushing forward. Just then Amr got a call from a university friend who was a Captain in the police force and inside the Ministry. He called to say that they were almost completely out of ammunition and that protestors were advancing. Maggie watched them advance. Amr’s friend said good-bye…
We both hung up and just sat. There are two sides to every battle. I can’t say that I’ve had the best experience with police in Egypt. At the same time I understand that for many in was a form of employment. They were young men trying to help feed their families…