Once back home from Midan Tahrir on Thursday afternoon we returned to our usual routine and opened alJazeera, Twitter, Facebook, prepared to spend another eve and night in front of the computer and the tv.... While he had been out in downtown we were cut off from any media access. I had for days not been as uninformed of the ungoing events as I was during these hours in which I was „participating“ in the protests. Sometime in the afternoon I had called a friend to figure out what happened at his location. In a phone conversation on Thursday he left no doubt to me HOW determined he was to join the protests also on Friday, this time targeting the presidenbtial palace Oruba and not Tahrir: „I am not afraid anymore, I don't care. Seriously, I don't care what happens to me. This man has to go, he simply HAS TO GO. Many of my friends have prepared for dying tomorrow, they have written their testament.“
By now I have come to know the way Egyptians can get very emotional and also have a bit more sensitivity for how their way of talking differs from the German one...so I was not too surprised when today I heard that of those 100 people that were meant to gather around my friend to move to Oruba, only 20 showed up. Yet, in fever for the revolution, he was surprised about his friends' sudden pullout. At parts out of disappointment and partially because of the sniper's that had supposedly been positioned on the building's roof, they never got to Oruba but came to Tahrir later the day. Thereby losing my sole direct connection to the protestors at Oruba, I had no clue what had been going on there throughout the day. Accordingly eager I was to get some update from alJazeera and the blogger Sandmonkey on the situation there. Before I had even managed to put myself in the picture again, another important statement had been announced, adding to the excitement stirred by announcements that Mubarak had left Cairo.
Not much later, I was still seated at the dining table with my computer, while my flatmate had already occupied the couch, and gotten her knitting whool ready, Suleiman appeared. And gave this hillariously short statement, which said what everyone had hoped for but noone expected at that moment. As the crowds on Tahrir exploded into jubilation, we were still unable to believe it: has this really happened? It's done? Finally? FINALLY! I switched to an Arab Channel to allow our Egyptian friend to double-check, but it was right: Mubarak had resigned.
For us this meant: getting ready as soon as possible (of course not without quickly posting the corresponding fb msgs) and running to downtown. In the hallway, our direct neibhgours had just gathered and congratulated us „Mabrouk“. Yet, when I responded to the nice old lady's congratulations she broke into tears. Her grief was caused by „ilkhurug ilwahesch“, the ugly departure of Mubarak. In a sense this surely referred to the many people who had died in the 18 days of protests, to the many mothers who had lost their sons in their fight for freedom, but she also decried the disgrace Mubarak's refusal to step down early and the youth's impatient reaction had brought about 30 years of rule and about the image and memory of the ruler himself. She didnt get tired of telling us, that as a person, Hosni Mubarak was a good man. She also told us that her husband was a police officer, so this might have had a strong impact on her perspective and feelings. Yet, I assume that she was not the only person who felt not only happiness about the tumultuous events and the end of an epoche....
Out in the streets we met those who were as much or much more joyful about Mubarak's departure. Countless cars where jamming the streets, and especially the bridges leading to downtown. Flags were stuck to cars, hang out of the windows, waved by passengers and pedestrians. Honking, shouting, all other kinds of noise arose to a deafening outcry of joy all over the city. The atmosphere could not have been more distinct from the tension that had gripped all of Cairo in the days before: Everyone was shouting, laughing, moving freely, openly.
The Egyptian flag was omnipresent: People had wrapped flags around their heads and bodies, were waving them in ecitement or carrying them proudly around the streets of dowtnwon Cairo. I was surprised how the supply of new flags seemed never to dry up, street sellers still offering various kinds of flags at night. Due to their sense of business Egyptians had in time come up with a variety of revolution merchandise, ranging from Egypt-coloured hats over bandeaus carrying the latest slogans of Mubarak's departure to stickers saying „I'm Egyptian and proud of it“ or „Egyptian Revolution Jan 2011 – I was there“. Shouts like „horreya“ (freedom), „masr“ (Egypt), „masr hurra“ (free Egypt) were heard as well as protest chants which had been tranformed to now say essentially „Mission accomplished“.
The group of Egyptians I was with kept singing and dancing in the streets for hours, constantly hugging each other and celebrating their new free existence. Every now and then Midan Tahrir and Midan Talaat Harb were alight by improvised fireworks, cars and people were parading the city, with people (especially children) sitting on the cars, waving flags, and even up to 9 people arranged into a human pyramide on motorbikes. Those shops in downtown which had resisted the unrest and where still open, offering food where exploding. And while the huge improvised outodoor cafes in the side alleys had been empty right after the speech, they started filling up again as soon as the first people got tired of shouting, parading and dancing. Many people also used their rest to catch a glimpse of Obama's speech or to have a look at Saturday's newspaper which appeared sometime around noon.
While the side streets became somewhat calmer after noon the celebrations at Midan Tahrir and Midan Talaat Harb did not end. People were up all night, dancing to the rhythm of stamping on the metall barriers, singing to traditional Egyptian songs, waving their flags and hugging each other. It was astonishing who the behaviour towards us foreigners made 180 degree spin. Suddenly the friendlyness had returned and was shown much more expressively than it had ever been. I finally finally finally heard the first „welcome to Egypt“ and „Egypt i love you“ (whatever this means..) since my arrival. People were visibly happy to share their victory celebration with us and proud to have us see what they have achieved. While I was standing on the side of the street waving my (huge!) Egyptian flag, a women with her children and husband stopped to welcome me. When I said: „Mabrook li ilMasryin“ (Congratulations to the Egyptians) she was so happy that she kissed me on the cheeks....And many more people showed how pleased they were to see us Europeans join the biggest and most deserved party they have ever celebrated...
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