Pages from my Shisha Reveries!

Egypt Redefined

Revolution - a word that rendered little meaning to me awhile ago, but a word that was worth more than their lives to some people. The Egyptians during the "Arab uprising" animated the word Revolution. At first, it had little or no notice, but the riots, the protests, the persistence, the hatred, and above all the patriotism of every single person of this country, Egypt, brought much attention.  

By the first day hundreds gathered in two major cities of Egypt, Cairo and Alexandria. All this time, Egyptians were considered indolent, care-free, and blind to the word democracy. The President of Egypt, Hosni Mubarak, stayed in power for 30 years. One can say that democracy had a different meaning in their dictionary. But what changed after 30 years? What made the silent, languid Egyptians to energetic, lively Egyptians? Was it the driving price of daily commodities? Was it the inspiration given by the people of Tunisia? Or did they finally unearth the right meaning to the word democracy?

Honestly speaking I never thought the protests would continue for more than three days. I knew or fairly to say I presumed that the endless drudgery the protests will bring is too hard for the Egyptians. Recent history verifies my judgment; it is seldom that Egyptians do arduous work, especially when it involves the government or politics. However, by the third day the crowd grew from a couple of hundreds to a few thousands. By this time, the mental sketch I had of an Egyptian changed or better to say revolutionized.

For Egyptians who always bestow priority to family, money, religion, and a healthy well-being, finally began to prioritize country above everything, including their faith. It was day four of the protests and it was a Friday, a holy day for us Muslims. It was rumored that this day will extricate the largest number of protestors and that after Friday prayers the people will march to the streets of Egypt. It was also rumored that the government would use any means to prevent these protestors from marching onto the streets, even if it meant disrupting the prayers and creating havoc. But that very day, something happened, something that felt inspiring, something that broke the shackles of every society, something that tells us how far one has come from the time of the crusades. Just as the prayers concluded I turned around to distinguish the deafening noise behind me. People. Civilians. Egyptians were holding hands and barricading the entrance to the mosque, preventing the police from entering and disturbing the prayers. It occurred to me, and I’m sure many others why weren’t these people praying, why did they bother to protect us and not join us. But then I realized that these people didn’t share the same faith. My driver smiled at me and said “The Christians guarded us while we were praying.” That moment fortified their revolution. It was then when I realized that this revolution has united what history had deemed impractical. Amidst all the tear gas and rubber coated bullets that day the crowd grew, this time from mere thousands to tens of thousands.

Everything comes with a price. Of those tens of thousands gathered that day many were injured or feared dead. The final casualty was somewhere around 200 – 400 with many more hospitalized. It may easily be misconstrued that these people lost their lives voluntarily but it’s false. This could have been a trouble-free and painless march for change, except it turned out to be chaotic. That day, the day four of the protests, police became the public enemy. Using outrageous and harmful means, they tried to disperse the crowd. Tear gas, rubber –coated steel bullets, police trucks crashing into people that came across their paths, riot police bludgeoning anyone they caught with their baton, simply to say it was pure mayhem. The police didn’t restrict their violence to men only; the Egyptian protestors included kids, elders, females of all ages and worse pregnant women. I can only imagine what the innocent went through that day and it still gives me the shudders. I kept imagining the feeling of – “Standing in front of a riot policeman, he has a shield that protects him from head to toe, he has head gear and Kevlar vests, and he has a rubber-bullet gun on his hand. And all you have a is piece of rock, and knowing that you’ll get shot the moment the rock leaves your hand, you still throw it hoping and hoping the rock hits him and then you get shot, injured, not dead, but injured. You get carried to the hospital with blood pouring out of you, yet you can still smile, smiling and thinking that the rock you threw was for your country.” - And that smile is worth more than anything. The funny part is that all the tear gas canisters and rubber coated steel bullets were provided by America, and when the violence began America was nowhere to be found.