Wrath Friday. Egypt, 2011.
Those who have too much to say always find it hard to write. I have been trying to write about this day for years but the thoughts never materialized into words.
I don’t have a Facebook memory from this day in 2011, as the internet was cut on that day and all the way until February,2nd.
These are the notes I found on my hard disk from the day, unedited.
“27/01/2011
( 22:15) : I am at a friend’s Birthday dinner, talking about what is supposed to happen the following day. I am asking if anyone is planning to join the protests. I am attacked from all as being overly impulsive and why would I risk getting hurt or killed for that and what difference would it make.
(23:45) : I receive an email from a girl I only met once by then (now a very close friend) asking if anyone is planning to join the Friday’s protests as she is willing to go but can’t find anyone to go with , I reply saying yes I’ve been looking for anyone to go with me as well, let’s meet tomorrow.
Midnight: I get into this heated argument with a friend and as she was leaving, I wrote on the BBM ” Love your boots btw” as a way to end the day with her on a friendly note … the delivered icon never appeared and it was the telecommunication black-out.
28/1/2011
11:00: I wake up, no internet, no phone. I decide to join the Friday prayers at a big mosque close to home, an hour later I am there and it looks like nothing is happening, the sheikh in the mosque saying that whoever join the protests is an infidel and no one disagreed.
13:00: I change my clothes in a revolution outfit, hit the streets with nothing but my ID, some money and some surgical equipment.
13:15 I found a huge march on AbuKir st, Roshdy. I stand on the side pavement in disbelief and I come closer slowly, 20 minutes later I am saying Down with Mubarak with a low voice. I reach the middle of the crowd. I am surrounded by thousands of people I’ve never met. My heart beats faster, I feel a trembling sensation throughout my body, my shivers turns into a voice I never noticed having before. “the people wants to topple the regime” I shout on top of my lungs.
The rest of the day was like an epic movie. I felt liberated beyond words, marching, chanting, screaming, tearing down photos of Mubarak from the streets to being randomly gased and shot at. I united with thousands of people that I’ve never met, running together, taking shelter in each other and uniting for Freedom, Justice and Dignity.
I will never forget the old woman who pushed me away from the field when I was helping an injured guy and didn’t notice the teargas canister going my way , the old man who made sure that our group of 20 people- by then- have enough water and food, the young guy I carried on my shoulders to tear down a Mubarak picture somewhere, the old woman who told me “Don’t go back, let’s show those bastards what we are made of.
I walked back home after the curfew on the empty streets. I walked home alone but I wasn’t lonely.”
This was the day when I constructed the “am” to my “I”. The day my identity crisis was solved. I mattered. I made a difference. I changed the world.
