(Published in Magnificent Magazine- April 2011)
It happened towards the end of a new year’s first month when resolutions were still searing with high hopes. But unlike usual resolutions, change no longer seemed far- fetched or scary. This time any change- no matter how tiring- sounded much better than our current today. With the scheming, the stealing, the poverty, and the never ending chain of injustice; it was inevitable for silence to break and for the people to roar.
On January, 25th, 2011, the Egyptian Revolution started…
It was to everyone’s surprise that the revolution kept going, for many it was just like any other riot that has happened before where water hoses and time were enough to put out. Yet, the consecutive blows did nothing to the demonstrators but keep them stronger. This time it was different. This time passiveness was no longer tolerable. This time and for the very first time in 30 years the people were truly fed up and had nothing more precious to lose than what has already been lost.
During the revolution, like many Egyptians, I was tormented by the many contradicting views, between the pros and cons, the supporters and the opponents and the rushing turns of events. Honestly speaking I had my doubts, not in a million years would I have ever thought we’d be where we are today. I never thought Mubarak would actually leave and a couple of months later we would participate in a referendum. But it happened!
During the revolution, like many Egyptian females, I was once more a prisoner of my own gender where Tahrir was considered a dangerously prohibited zone and I was banned from even thinking of going there. But I had to participate in some way and luckily I had three! First, I had my words; I wrote a lot, poured out my heart to white papers and found consolation in my laptop screen. Second, I had my voice; I talked, discussed and debated with those who were- and surprisingly still are anti- revolution. And finally, I had Amani el- Tunsi, my friend and a sincere eye-witness to what was going on in Tahrir. Amani had the guts and the power to go to Tahrir since the early days of the revolutions, I used to call her and listen live over the phone to what was being said and most of the times sung! My heart was just getting hooked to the tales of Tahrir by the minute and she was my only left hope.
After a long night of celebrations on the 11th of February, I got a chance to ask her opinion, hopes and dreams for a better Egypt. After all, she was there protesting and demanding. She witnessed the entire revolution and was firmly biased to Tahrir and did not have a chance to be brainwashed by corrupted media or hidden agendas. Her words were precise and direct, she knew exactly what she wanted to voice to the point that she wrote a book that is going to be published soon under the name “Bent men midan al- Tahrir” (A girl from Tahrir Square) where she has narrated everything, minute by minute, and day by day along with all the people she talked to and discussed with the future of Egypt.
Amani told me that during those eighteen days she felt scared and terrified of what tomorrow might bring. “I used to go there every day with the possibility that I might not see my father again”, she said. “But I was hopeful and was overwhelmed with this strange love and jealousy over my own country. For the very first time, I knew what it felt to be free, to have a voice. What being an Egyptian really means”
When I asked her about the rumors of harassments, she said: “I never felt safer in my life; the men were helpful and defending. They helped us pass by, they helped us park, enter and leave. I felt at home. It was safe and cozy. Besides, we were not at Tahrir to harass or annoy, we had a cause. Even though the reasons may differ but we had a larger mission than silly boyish games”
The glory of this Revolution is not only about its political achievements but its remarkable impact on every person whether a participant or not. The state of being a revolutionary, a free bird who has all the rights in the world to accept or refuse; to demean or encourage; to go on or simply quit. We, as Egyptians, have lost this ability a long time ago. And you can easily spot our passiveness in everything, not just politics.
A student being abused by his teacher remains silent; an employer who is denied overtime bonus does not quit because he is terrified of unemployment; a wife endures her husband’s infidelity to please a sick society that disapproves divorce; A man stays in a lifeless marriage because he cannot afford divorce; A son’s dream is murdered by his parents follow their orders helplessly; A daughter is forced into marriage to escape her family’s prison, etc...
There was a time when no was not an option, when we were forbidden to think, chose, debate or even communicate, but not anymore. The revolution knocked on every door. Everywhere I go I meet people who started to voice their opinions and enforce their rights. Women facing their husbands asking for more respect and engagement; husbands no longer afraid of their occasionally scary wives verbalizing their anguishes; sons and daughters demanding their parents to listen and spend more time getting to know them; employers protesting for their financial rights and health care; students calling for better education; graduates arguing for jobs they can honorably life off, and people fighting the farce of high prices and the scarcity of a good affordable life-quality.
The revolution smoothly relocated from Tahrir square to our homes and minds. The change has already happened. We, Egyptians, have tasted democracy and freedom and I do not think there will ever be a turning back. Whether one agrees or disagrees with the brutality of change compared to the ease of bouncing back to an accustomed life, I say it is better to suffer a year or two of massive confusion rather than tolerating a lifetime of blurry attempts.
On January, 25th, 2011, the Egyptian Revolution started…
It was to everyone’s surprise that the revolution kept going, for many it was just like any other riot that has happened before where water hoses and time were enough to put out. Yet, the consecutive blows did nothing to the demonstrators but keep them stronger. This time it was different. This time passiveness was no longer tolerable. This time and for the very first time in 30 years the people were truly fed up and had nothing more precious to lose than what has already been lost.
During the revolution, like many Egyptians, I was tormented by the many contradicting views, between the pros and cons, the supporters and the opponents and the rushing turns of events. Honestly speaking I had my doubts, not in a million years would I have ever thought we’d be where we are today. I never thought Mubarak would actually leave and a couple of months later we would participate in a referendum. But it happened!
During the revolution, like many Egyptian females, I was once more a prisoner of my own gender where Tahrir was considered a dangerously prohibited zone and I was banned from even thinking of going there. But I had to participate in some way and luckily I had three! First, I had my words; I wrote a lot, poured out my heart to white papers and found consolation in my laptop screen. Second, I had my voice; I talked, discussed and debated with those who were- and surprisingly still are anti- revolution. And finally, I had Amani el- Tunsi, my friend and a sincere eye-witness to what was going on in Tahrir. Amani had the guts and the power to go to Tahrir since the early days of the revolutions, I used to call her and listen live over the phone to what was being said and most of the times sung! My heart was just getting hooked to the tales of Tahrir by the minute and she was my only left hope.
After a long night of celebrations on the 11th of February, I got a chance to ask her opinion, hopes and dreams for a better Egypt. After all, she was there protesting and demanding. She witnessed the entire revolution and was firmly biased to Tahrir and did not have a chance to be brainwashed by corrupted media or hidden agendas. Her words were precise and direct, she knew exactly what she wanted to voice to the point that she wrote a book that is going to be published soon under the name “Bent men midan al- Tahrir” (A girl from Tahrir Square) where she has narrated everything, minute by minute, and day by day along with all the people she talked to and discussed with the future of Egypt.
Amani told me that during those eighteen days she felt scared and terrified of what tomorrow might bring. “I used to go there every day with the possibility that I might not see my father again”, she said. “But I was hopeful and was overwhelmed with this strange love and jealousy over my own country. For the very first time, I knew what it felt to be free, to have a voice. What being an Egyptian really means”
When I asked her about the rumors of harassments, she said: “I never felt safer in my life; the men were helpful and defending. They helped us pass by, they helped us park, enter and leave. I felt at home. It was safe and cozy. Besides, we were not at Tahrir to harass or annoy, we had a cause. Even though the reasons may differ but we had a larger mission than silly boyish games”
The glory of this Revolution is not only about its political achievements but its remarkable impact on every person whether a participant or not. The state of being a revolutionary, a free bird who has all the rights in the world to accept or refuse; to demean or encourage; to go on or simply quit. We, as Egyptians, have lost this ability a long time ago. And you can easily spot our passiveness in everything, not just politics.
A student being abused by his teacher remains silent; an employer who is denied overtime bonus does not quit because he is terrified of unemployment; a wife endures her husband’s infidelity to please a sick society that disapproves divorce; A man stays in a lifeless marriage because he cannot afford divorce; A son’s dream is murdered by his parents follow their orders helplessly; A daughter is forced into marriage to escape her family’s prison, etc...
There was a time when no was not an option, when we were forbidden to think, chose, debate or even communicate, but not anymore. The revolution knocked on every door. Everywhere I go I meet people who started to voice their opinions and enforce their rights. Women facing their husbands asking for more respect and engagement; husbands no longer afraid of their occasionally scary wives verbalizing their anguishes; sons and daughters demanding their parents to listen and spend more time getting to know them; employers protesting for their financial rights and health care; students calling for better education; graduates arguing for jobs they can honorably life off, and people fighting the farce of high prices and the scarcity of a good affordable life-quality.
The revolution smoothly relocated from Tahrir square to our homes and minds. The change has already happened. We, Egyptians, have tasted democracy and freedom and I do not think there will ever be a turning back. Whether one agrees or disagrees with the brutality of change compared to the ease of bouncing back to an accustomed life, I say it is better to suffer a year or two of massive confusion rather than tolerating a lifetime of blurry attempts.
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