Norhan Tomoum
22nd November 2011
Cairo, Egypt
Rumors and lies were unbearable. Retweeting people’s posts only made
me feel more and more restrained. I couldn’t just stop and stare. Safe and
sound in my own home with the TV on, while an hour away, people were
getting killed and their bodies were dragged next to the garbage. That was
it: my breaking point. I had to see for myself, I couldn’t stand that feeling
anymore.
My heart had felt so refreshed, I wanted to be there; I had to be there.
Tahrir Square was filled with Egyptians from all aspects of life, Muslims
and Christians who were either part of political parties or just regular
people who wanted to fight for their country. I felt so excited to be part of
history, more likely, to actually engage and feel like, I mattered; that by just
being there, I made a difference.
In my attempt to try to be fair and unbiased, I will tell you that I felt that
some people were just there for the sake of fun, drinking tea, eating batata,
koshary, and semeet (Local Egyptian foods). Most of the people, however, I
swear to God were cheering against inhumanity, and for human rights. I
could see those people chanting from their hearts, seeking a better life, a
better Egypt. The amount of people helping each other was enormous. The
men even formed human walls by attaching their hands together, to make
space for the ambulances to pass quickly, because it was peoples’ lives on
the line here.
While most political parties and people participating in the next elections
had actually put their campaigns on hold for the sake of Egypt and the
horrifying events taking place since Saturday the 19th of November, other
parties, or more like, The Muslim Brotherhood, was merely there doing
propaganda for their party and trying to get the support of many people
present in Tahrir, because elections was a week away. I was appalled by
the use of my sacred holy Quran and my beloved Islam as means of gaining
extra votes in the next parliamentary elections.
Oh, my journey was over, I had to leave. But it just didn’t feel like it was
over for me yet, I didn’t see as much as I was expecting to. Then came
L’experience, that’s French for, the experience. My father, brother, friend,
and I were heading to the car to leave Tahrir square, when I realized that
we were in a street parallel to Mohamed Mahmoud street, the street where
all the action was happening; the street where people got hit by CR gas
bombs, lost their eyes, or more disturbingly, their lives. Reality at its best,
the truth behind those shed curtains; I had to see, “just a sneak peek,” I
said.
We went to a side street that was adjacent to Mohamed Mahmoud Street,
and boy, was it a frightening place. Suddenly, everything was darker, with
smoke attempting to fade into space, but with no use. There was about a
maximum of eight women going to the same place we were and let me tell
you, that is no place for women. We were walking silently in those dark,
scary alleys, until we arrived. There we are, about one meter away from the
petrifying street. I stood still for a second, and whoop, zap back to reality.
Oh dear God, my heart pumped faster and faster, what was that place? A
war zone? I could see people fainting, and others trying to help. It was a
shock to see people getting hurt in this brutal way.
Then again, I needed to understand what was really going on, were the
police forces persecuted? Or were they really being brutal? As my friend
and I stepped into Mohamed Mahmoud Street, the police threw a gas bomb.
Thanks you guys, my question was answered in a split of a second. People
started running and my friend and I started tearing, our noses were
running, and we couldn’t breath. My throat felt acidic all of a sudden and I
kept coughing and coughing. THREE MINUTES, THREE DAMN MINUTES
PEOPLE, and we couldn’t take any more. Imagine those who have been
there for three consecutive days fighting barbarity for the sake of everyone
sitting at home to have a better future, or even those who have lost their
lives suffocated to death or shot by rubber bullets to guarantee that their
children will not be oppressed as they were. Put yourselves in their
position. How would YOU feel?
As soon as we went straight back to this side road because we couldn’t
stand the gas, two men quickly sprayed “Khemeera,” a mixture of liquids
that would prevent anything that could happen to our eyes from the CR gas,
and gave us inhalers to be able to breath regularly again. We left right
afterwards because the smoke was taking over the street. Nevertheless, I
felt THE PAIN, THE ANGER, and THE FRUSTRATION of those brave souls
demanding their basic rights, to be treated as human beings.
Reality was intense, and life was cruel. This was a hard, yet such a
meaningful experience that I will never forget. Now I can say, with much
confidence, that people in Tahrir are inspiring and chivalrous because I got
to see how brave, yet how respectful they are. To all those of you skeptics of
their intentions and to those who believe that people in Tahrir are
damaging the country and causing un-necessary chaos, I recommend you
go down to Tahrir and Mohamed Mahmoud Street and see for yourself.
Those people are resisting, yet facing the brutal reality in their search of
humanity. Trust me, you’ll change your mind. I did!
P.S: Women SHOULD NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES head to Mohamed
Mahmoud Street, It’s very dangerous. This is no place for women to be.