We went to Tahrir Square with family and friends on 1 February and met lots of friends and old acquaintances there. We all enjoyed the mood. It gave us courage to believe that the revolution would be victorious in the end.

The demonstrators had by now agreed amongst their different factions on a few common goals that were published: abdication of the president, ending of the emergency law and of all laws restricting freedom, cancellation of the faked parliament, an intermediate government of representatives of democratic parties until the new elections and re-writing of the constitution.

Hosni Mubarak, though, did not think of abdicating. He only nominated Omar Suleiman as vice president and promised ‘reforms’. He reshuffled five ministers in the cabinet. That was it.

The emergency law that had made the oppressive interior politics possible for 30 years was never mentioned and most sanctions against the people were upheld.

The government had issued an order of curfew. The times changed every day and no one was sure about when or for how long it was on. It wasn’t taken too seriously. The government threatened to enforce the curfew with utmost measures, but that was a debatable threat - so far there was no police to enforce anything. At night private people still guarded the roads and mobility was restricted by private road blocks. Nevertheless, I was out and about every day and night, as were many others. Cafés and restaurants closed latest at 5pm or 6pm due to the curfew, therefore the streets in downtown seemed pretty dead at night.

Then the attack on Tahrir Square happened. The regime took brutal revenge with a massacre. On Wednesday, 2 February, the so-called pro-Mubarak demonstrators stormed the square and tried to clear it of demonstrators. There was a terrible fight.

Before that, members of parliament and representatives of the government had been sighted in the poorer quarters, offering huge sums of money for participation in the ‘pro-Mubarak’ demonstration, and even higher sums for clearing the square. Other people amongst this crowd were paid thugs from the private troops that most rich and corrupt regime profiteers keep and some policemen in plainclothes. This is not just an idle statement; there is official proof of it. Amongst those hired were even some horseback riders and men on camels.

The demonstrators had only allowed unarmed people onto the square, whereas the ‘pro-Mubarak’ demonstrators were heavily armed with knives, sharp stoners and clubs.

The Military police that had controlled the streets around the square had let the armed vandal troops to pass, so one cannot talk about any neutrality on the army’s side or their eagerness to protect the people.

The shock was felt by the whole country; we had suddenly sobered up. The mood was sad. All people felt united by a deep inner anger and frustration about the injustice. We felt so helpless having to face this brutal oppression. As always, the regime had tried to secure its power, and it had done so at the cost of lives. We felt discouraged and full of fear and grief.

The day before, we had been on Tahrir. Many others had been there too. Mobile service was on again, and just this Wednesday we had the feeling that life had gradually returned. Some people had gone to work, petrol stations had opened again and there was traffic on the streets. Nobody had expected such a coup.

We had also planned to go to Tahrir that day, but a series of coincidences had kept us from going till late afternoon. Then we heard about the massacre. Lots of our friends were on the square. We tried desperately to reach anyone. No one answered his phone. It was catastrophic.

Sarah, my daughter, had helped out that day at a German speaking TV station whose offices were located near Tahrir square. She saw the ‘pro-Mubarak’ demonstrators move towards the square. The meagre groups of shabbily dressed wretches waving banners were not to be taken seriously; they were by far outnumbered by anti-Mubarak demonstrators. Later though, when the army of professional and hired thugs gathered, the situation became very dangerous and Sarah witnessed from the office window a vicious battle amongst those fleeing and those hunting them. She was deeply shocked.

Those who courageously defended the square did it at the risk of their lives. They knew that they could not just give up, since their lives would be worth nothing once the government won. They fought and they managed to stand their ground.

Egypt suddenly made it to the news worldwide. Initially, there were reports that ‘Mubarak supporters’ and ‘Mubarak opponents’ had fought, just as if there were any Mubarak supporters who stood on his side out of their free will and without being paid for it. ‘Civil war’ was another much used keyword. Only later was there an understanding that civil war meant a war of citizens against citizens, but this was a war of the government against its people.

Western politicians carefully condemned the massacre. ‘Not this way, Mr. Mubarak’. For the first time the demonstrators were granted their right to freedom of speech. It took President Obama or Merkel some days to finally distance themselves from Mubarak for good. At least world politics had begun to acknowledge that the Egyptian people had had enough. Western TVs suddenly showed critical reports about the country’s circumstances of power and powerlessness.

The city was dead the following day. Most people didn’t dare to venture outside. The mood had changed. There was high tension. Many people were discouraged and depressed and stayed home in spite of the ongoing protests throughout the country and on Tahrir Square. Many were disheartened and wondered whether the protests could ever topple the regime. They feared that the old situation would be restored in the end.

The friendly, helpful Egyptian people had vanished. Whoever went out into the streets was confronted by groups of aggressive young men passing by, and it was not discernible whether they were simple civilians or police in plainclothes and secret police.

The government spread distrust against foreigners via state TV, and claiming that the protest were instigated by foreign secret services. There were attacks on foreign journalists and foreign TV stations. I went the next day to substitute for Sarah at the TV station and witnessed myself the danger for the foreign reporters. We had to lock ourselves in and barricade the doors, and we had to switch the lights off and work in the dark by the light of the computer screens to avoid becoming targets.

Some foreigners went through unpleasant situations. It was astounding how fast manners had changed on the streets. In the night, on the way home from work, I was not treated with the usual courtesy. I felt threatened for the first time. At a road block, a group of young men rushed towards my car and abruptly yanked the door open, overexcited to have caught a foreigner. The wild mob accompanied me to the military post who had no clue what to do with me and sent me away. This scene was repeated at further road blocks. The drive home through a deserted main road in a poor area turned into a nerve wracking experience.

The return to work, driving through empty streets early next morning, was equally exciting. Normally the streets should have been free at this time of day, but a gang of grim young men had erected another road block on a main road. They controlled passports and car trunks and discussed heatedly whether they should let a foreigner like me pass. Then one of them gave orders to let me go. Who these guys were I cannot say; they wore plain clothes. One of them had a police ID. Maybe they were placed here officially, or they were secret police who usually wore plainclothes.

I had to walk the last two kilometers, since the Cornice, the riverside road, was still blocked by tanks. The military police perused my papers several times and tried to send me back. They let me pass only reluctantly.

The military was noticeably not supportive of the demonstrators. It wanted to exclude foreigners from the scene and tried to hinder reporting. It has been said that the military would not shoot the people, but it certainly did not help with access to the Tahrir area either.

It was not yet clear how things would develop, but the situation gave reason to fear of worse things. A lot of foreigners and worried Egyptians were leaving the country by now. Some of the elite in power were leaving also, in their private jets. There were no regular flights anymore, but the embassies had organised evacuation flights. The German government had not yet given out an absolute warning, so the evacuation flights had to paid for by the evacuees (about 700 Euro). Most organizations, though, sent their people home, and it was strange to have to say goodbye so abruptly to many friends and acquaintances.

I decided to stay. In German history the state has been known to stir up its people to act against humanity, but I could not imagine that the friendly Egyptians would turn against foreigners after only two days of the campaign. I still felt safe at home. I had a feeling that the ailing government was playing a trick on the Egyptians to isolate them with the specific actions against foreigners.

Nevertheless, I considered getting my daughter evacuated. She wouldn’t hear of it, though, for fear of leaving me behind in danger. It was no easy decision for her to stay, since staying here put her under a lot of pressure too. The revolution days weighed heavily on our nerves; it wasn’t easy for us.

It wasn’t easy telling whether one’s decision was right. Those who stayed felt burdened by the insecurity about that, a topic often discussed in conversations. After all, it wasn’t clear whether escape would be possible later in case things worsened again.

I was ready to bear the disadvantages of a restricted lifestyle under difficult circumstances and felt a lot of solidarity with the Egyptians, whose country has also been my home for many years. To put my daughter at risk by this decision was not easy though.

Nevertheless, the impressive capacity of the Egyptians to get organized made assured me that they would reasonably manage their country once they had gotten their aim. I felt much less worry about ‘later’ than what was discussed in the media. There are enough intelligent people in Egypt to govern this country much better than now.

The focus was now on Tahrir Square. There, lots of demonstrators kept their stance. There were bitter fights all over the country, but Tahrir had become an international symbol for the Egyptian people’s search of freedom. The demonstrators kept demanding the abdication of the president, cancellation of parliament, an end to the 30-year emergency law and the re-writing of the constitution. Because of the emergency law, the existing constitution had been partly invalid for many years and had served as a tool to justify the regime’s injustices and the repression of the people’s demands for democracy.

It was sad that, in spite of all the demonstrations, there was no quick decision. Nothing happened except Mubarak naming a vice president, Omar Suleiman. There was no hope of the president’s abdication. I saw a lot of people lose their nerve those days and no words helped to soothe their minds. After the euphoric first days, the old regime’s brutality had thoroughly disheartened the people. There was still a lot of tension in the air in those days following the massacre at Tahrir Square.

The city stirred and slowly awoke; people reluctantly began to live their everyday life. Internet was on again and many tried to get back to their work. Even the banks were said to open soon to pay out money. This was of utmost importance since practically no one had cash anymore.

The drop in income was noticeable everywhere. I returned to my work but had considerably fewer patients. Who could pay for therapy when survival itself was at stake?

The people kept supporting the demonstrators who so far had held out for two weeks on Tahrir Square. With the uncomfortably cold and windy nights at this time of the year, their determination was all the more admirable.

In the daytime, all that could spare a bit of time went there as well, though the odyssey through all the blocked passages and checkpoints wasn’t easy.

I had been there myself on two days. I found that this was not only a revolution of the Facebook generation, as propagated by the media. Yes, the Facebook generation might have pushed to make things public through their photos and reports, but it was noticeable that, from the beginning, Egyptians of all generations, classes and levels of society had participated in this revolution.

For instance, at a checkpoint, I stood amongst a big crowd of poor people who obviously had come to town from the villages on purpose. On the square then, I didn’t only see men but also lots of women and children. Some of the women wore long dresses and headscarves, others were unveiled or were dressed highly fashionably, and some wore very casual western styles.

I met acquaintances who worked at universities as professors and lots of people from the political left, who had been active for many long years in the opposition. Some had slept overnight at the square; as well as many simple people who had shared the cold night with them.

While I was resting in the sun, I saw one of my clients arrive with her whole family. As usual she wore rich gold jewelry and her Louis Vuitton bag. Her father had a Rotary pin in his lapel. They also sat with the demonstrators for some hours to show their solidarity.

I was very touched by a woman and her daughter. The woman smiled at me and asked whether I was there for the first time. Her clothing showed that her background was simple: she was veiled with a long sleeved blouse and long skirt. Mastering English reasonably, she preferred to speak Arabic. She radiated quiet dignity.

She told me that she and her family had slept on the square since 25 January. They all had left their work to help win the revolution. This was the most important thing at the moment, she declared. Later there would be time to go back to work; now all that mattered was creating a life worth living. I asked her how long she planned to stay. She looked at me and said firmly: ‘Till he abdicates!’

The square was extremely well organized and there was a peaceful and positive atmosphere. Outside, the government executives controlling admission had tried to make believe that the protests had ended now and that only a few crazy troublemakers were keeping the square. Inside, one was all the more impressed how many different people coexisted there and managed to voice their opinions, and how they all had one common goal.

It was clean, people continually cleared trash away. Everywhere, people held up posters they had made. A wall with photos of the people killed during the revolution reminded us all that this was not just another big party. Conservatives and progressives discussed animatedly. There were people who prayed regularly; and there were art corners where people painted; artists organized special performances and one could hear drums everywhere that supported the rhythm of the ongoing protest slogans. There was a stage on which more or less well known supporters of the revolution made speeches, and there were various discussion forums for the intellectual exchange amongst the different groups. At the exits, doctors had built makeshift clinics to treat the sick and the wounded.

Army tanks flanked the square. Men and youths sat around them, and on the wheels and chains, to prevent them from moving further into the square so that they would not restrict room for the demonstrators.

I had an experience that showed that consciousness for their rights had awoken amongst the simple people. One morning I went to Tahrir Square with two bags of croissants, in order to bring food for the protesters. An army officer held me back at the checkpoint claiming it was ‘forbidden’ to take food inside. I would have liked to demonstrate in protest right in front of the barbed wire fence the army had put up. I asked another person who came with food to start protesting with me. He declined and rather gave up his food, and since the officer threatened to make trouble with my passport, I also gave up my bags in order to get onto the square.

It annoyed me, though, to see all those food bags being thrown onto a huge pile and I couldn’t accept it easily. So I went back later and asked them to give me back my bags. They were just loading everything into a tank. Then I really started a fuss until they were willing to return my bags.

In the meantime more and more people came with food bags and bags of clothing or blankets, and they refused to let everything go. Suddenly, a man dressed like an ‘omda’, a village chief, called out to the others to sit down. The men were mostly poor men coming from the south of Egypt, who had come with their big plastic bags in order to stay on Tahrir Square.

By then I had got my bags back from the soldiers and went over to the men and sat amongst them. It was the spontaneous demonstration I had secretly wished for. One invented the slogan, ‘sitting strike till the food gets in’. He shouted the slogan loudly and angrily and all the other people repeated it in chorus. The crowd grew quickly. Soon we were hundreds, a sitting strike occupying space up to near Kasr El Nil bridge. All held up some food in their hands. It took a good half hour before the army guys lost their nerve and let us in - with our bags! It was quite uplifting. Before, the people were not aware that they had some power. There never was fearless protest before or such solidarity amongst the people.
On Thursday we were sure the time had come. The whole day there had been rumours that the military would clear the square by force, maybe using nerve gas and live ammunition. The rumour was based on reliable information that had leaked from army circles and it caused great upset and tension. Nevertheless, the demonstrators were adamant about staying, even if the price was high. I phoned several friends on the square. They saw no other solution. We worried terribly about them.

It had rained at night and the cold and stormy weather reflected the general dark mood. Finally, in the early evening, an army general came to the square to talk to the people and to calm them down. He announced that Mubarak would later make a speech. Darkness fell soon. No one knew what the night would bring. It was a situation hard to bear.

I was asked to help out again in the correspondent’s office and quickly left home to drive to the office. There were still some people on the streets, curfew really didn’t impress many, but in general the streets were quite empty and driving was smooth.

Once at office, things were very hectic. Foreign news services called from abroad to get news directly. People came and went. There were calls coming in from people on the square and the television hummed nonstop in the background. Then the speech by the president began.

He looked as usual, well groomed, smooth, unmoved, untouchable. Quite artificial, considering he was well over 80 years old and very ill. Later it was said that this speech had been pre-recorded and that he had collapsed several times during recording, but there was no trace of this when he appeared on the screen. With a serious face he generously announced some reforms. He was going to hand over the power to Omar Suleiman in some respects, but certain presidential decisions would continue to be his privilege.

The anger that this speech provoked was immediately perceivable. From the office window we could overlook the Cornice (the street on the eastern bank of River Nile) in front of the state television building. We saw thousands of people stream angrily towards the TV building. The Cornice quickly filled up with demonstrators. Instead of leaving, Mubarak had only offered another delay of the unavoidable. People were not willing anymore to accept that. The frustration made the people all the more bent on getting their voice heard.

In anticipation of the people’s reaction, the TV building had been surrounded by the army. Barbed wire coils fenced off the area. Only one row of soldiers stood behind the barbed wire coils, shoulder by shoulder, weapons casually touching the floor. This was demonstrative of non-violence; the army was just to protect the TV building, a state institution, in case it proved necessary. The soldiers stood still without moving a limb. Behind them one could see their superiors walking up and down restlessly, walkie-talkies pressed to their ears.

Soon thousands had congregated in front of the fence. They had come to stay until their demands would be met, - this was clear. The demonstrators were well organized. No wonder after all these weeks on Tahrir. Within a very short time they erected a small clinic in the back and spread out blankets and sleeping bags in other areas.

War drums sounded with a deep rhythmical boom - that’s how I perceived the drums that accompanied the continuously repeated calls for Mubarak to abdicate. It transported immense energy. The demonstrators showed their decisiveness not to give up by any means.

More and more people arrived in the early morning. All who were angry and frustrated about Mubarak’s speech were coming towards Tahrir Square, pushing through the crowds on the Cornice in front of the TV building. Lots remained here. There were tens of thousands very soon.

It was a tight, pulsating crowd reaching from the barbed wire all the way to the banks of the Nile in the back. In between, other demonstrators constantly pushed through in a stream towards Tahrir. It was scary and impressive to watch from above. The sharp blades of the barbed wire threatened to hurt people standing in the front rows, and with the shoving and pushing crowd there was a strong risk of mass panic in case people got wounded. Some people could not bear the pressure of the crowd and fainted. They were carried away on raised arms high above the heads of the crowd.

More and more drums joined in and the protest slogans became more intense, just as if the people were to change things only by their voice. The choir of the tens of thousands of voices transported immense power.

One is used to news pictures of anarchy and vandalism as a reaction to the people’s frustration with the system. Here we witnessed something completely different. The people remained disciplined and in control.

The demonstrators just showed their joint fearlessness and they demanded a common goal. They kept on demanding, on and on, without getting tired of it. The presence of the others encouraged them to go on and the power of their choir strengthened their hope. They would never give up.

Tension and impatience grew from the early morning to dawn, but nothing much happened on the government’s side. We had a prime view of the happenings and witnessed some exciting moments during that day.

The reverberations of the war drums had accompanied our work all day. We saw the swirl and pulsation of the crowd in front of the barbed wire fence around the TV building and the few impassive soldiers on the other side.

Suddenly there was a common outcry and hundreds of demonstrators pulled back at the same time. They pulled with them the supports that held up the barbed wire and the fence came down. Before the masses could storm the TV building, the soldiers blocked the breach. Their officers spoke to the demonstrators urgently. The situation was on the brink. Then the demonstrators at the front turned around and called out to those behind them. The fence was pulled up again. Now there was a row of demonstrators facing the crowd behind the fence holding back the crowd together with a row of soldiers. Soon after, things had quieted down considerably. The demonstrations continued in the same intensity as before.

The office phone rang incessantly, many foreign news services and broadcasting stations asked for information. Suddenly the phone connection broke. A loose wire had finally broken completely. In the midst of chaos we frantically repaired the connections and fixed them with some tape. Improvisation holds this country together, this was a typically Egyptian situation. But this was to end, at least on the political level - that is what the demonstrators had made clear. Although, even in the later afternoon, it was not yet clear whether they would get what they had asked for.

It worried us greatly to observe what was happening behind the building, out of view of the demonstrators. The soldiers loaded the machine guns on the tanks with live ammunition. Were they preparing for a shootout? What would happen? And what about us, would we still be safe up here in the midst of all this? Which room would be the safest to hide in?

But again, nothing more happened. Later, the soldiers handed out biscuits to the demonstrators who gave them cigarettes. It was an eerie situation considering the armed weapons in the back.

Darkness fell. The demonstrators were getting exhausted. Protests had continued incessantly the whole day but seemed not to have moved anything. Protests were still ongoing and we wondered what would happen if the government refused to react before the evening ended.
Suddenly there was a message of relief. Vice president Omar Suleiman would address the people. He read his speech stone-faced. A sudden outcry from the masses. Mubarak had abdicated!

People embraced; tears flowed in an incredible burst of tension; happy laughter reflected the intense feeling of liberation…

What a party! People brandishing the Egyptian flag stormed the streets everywhere and streamed towards Tahrir Square. More and more people came, it was unbelievable. The sound of jubilation! Singing, slogan chanting, cars honking, the sudden ecstatic rhythm of the drums, leading the crowd into a frenzy of dance and cheers...

Everyone participated, the old and the young, men and women and children. It was an incredible celebration.

No one thought about tomorrow. For now it didn’t matter that the army had taken control of the government and not a democratic alliance of the people’s representatives. For now it didnt matter that a lot of the old ministers who represented and supported Mubarak were still in power. For now it didn’t matter that emergency law and the curfew was still on. And for now it did not matter that democracy was still far way ahead. All this was not important at that moment. What mattered was celebrating the victory.

BROUGHT TO YOU BY PAMBAZUKA NEWS

* Read Part 1.
* This article first appeared in Transform
* Gabriele Habashi works as a therapist and journalist in Hamburg and Cairo
* Please send comments to editor[at]pambazuka[dot]org or comment online at Pambazuka News.