DIARY TO DEMOCRACY (4th Entry)

Saturday, 29th January 2011
After I woke up early in the morning I left the house to inspect Downtown and Garden City to see the traces of the fights. Beside burnt out cars, police vehicles and most prominent the still smoldering NDP headquarter building the weirdest thing was the absence of police. Cairo is normally full with police of all types: traffic police trying to sort out some of Cairo’s mad street chaos, police guarding embassies, banks…. But now there was no police to be seen anywhere, instead civilians took over the role of the traffic police directing the cars and pedestrians. In every quarter people formed popular committees to guard their neighbourhood. Friends from Moqattam told me later that women heated up oil in big pots in order to throw it from their windows onto possible thugs and looters.

This reads “Out ya Mubarak, you traitor”.

DIARY TO DEMOCRACY (3rd Entry)

29th of January, The first Day without Police (supposedly)
The Friday of Rage had left many people dead and many more injured and Habib Al Adly, still Interior Minister back then, had ordered all police off the streets, but this order had not quite reached Menia yet. Chaos was ruling the scene though. The army had put a curfew from 4pm to 7am in place and called for all citizens to protect their homes and dignity and people were forming popular committees. Since nobody was in charge for anything and the police was not any longer receiving orders they didn’t know what to do with the big German choir. Sending it back to Cairo didn’t seem to be a safe choice. Germany was trying to send a plane to Egypt to evacuate them but couldn’t get a landing permit for a nearby airport. I and two other people had to go back to Cairo but they wouldn’t let us travel without a police escort despite the fact that they didn’t have any available. Still no internet and no mobile network in Cairo. After hours of discussions with the police, among the police themselves, time ticking and worries arising of not being able to reach Cairo before the curfew, we finally got the okay to leave with a private car. We had to squeeze a plain clothes police guy or state security or whatever he was (he had serious bad breath!) in our car till the border of Menia governorate, there we were told the next police car would show up any moment but we could drive towards them. Our chance, we ran for it and escaped.The police still feels very much in charge, posing stupidly, delaying us, feeling superior….

…posing for my camera obviously bursting of testosteron while I’m mumbling with a sweet smile in German – gibberish to their ears – “these are your last hours, game over”.

We escaped from our police escort in Beni Suef, nervously getting closer to Cairo not knowing how the situation might be there. Mobile network is back but our friends in Cairo are also very confused about what is going on on the streets. The curfew is supposed to start at 4pm. It is exactly 4pm when we drive into Cairo on the Pyramids side. The highway is lined with tanks. The first time in my life to see so many tanks, quite a frightening sight. Cautiously I take photos from inside the car. I feel anxious because I’m in a quite big car of a colleague and would much more prefer to be in a ramshackle inconspicuous car. Pyramids Road is blocked and we try to enter from the mahwar heading towards Libanon Square. Total chaos awaits us, cars are trying against the travel direction to drive out of Cairo again. Other cars got stuck on the small concrete wall between the lanes fidgeting like stranded whales. Sticks swinging men are climbing over the walls onto the street moving between cars. We can’t figure out what is happening, if we are in danger or not. The situation is very confusing and chaotic and I feel trapped in our car. Somehow our driver manages to push through. The street in front of us is frighteningly empty. We race to Zamalek where a new surprise appears: the entrance is blocked by armed men. Big knives, wooden sticks, machetes, iron chains. They are part of the new neighbourhood guards. We can pass. At every corner guys are controlling the passing cars. They improvised weapons of all kinds. Kitchen knives attached to broomsticks, batons of various materials and stones as roadblocks.

I manage to reach a friend’s home where I would stay till the next day as I can’t reach Garden City now. Exhausted, confused, scared, utterly shocked about what is going on in a place that I call home for the past 12 years.

DIARY TO DEMOCRACY (2nd Entry)

28th of January, The Friday of Rage
On 26th of January, one day after the first demonstrations, I went on assignment to Sohag and Menia in Upper Egypt, accompanying a famous German choir (WDR Choir) that was performing together with an Egyptian Sufi Troupe and an Egyptian Coptic Esemble and some other famous musicians like Roman Bunka (a German Oud player who plays for decades with Egyptian superstar Mohamed Mounir). They were performing Fi Hob Allah (In God’s Love) a piece especially composed for them by chief conductor Rupert Huber. How ironic that it coincided with the beginning of the revolution where Egyptians would chant “We are one people, Muslims and Christians are one, hand in hand”. Debut performance was in Cairo, followed by a concert in Alexandria and another one in Cairo on the 25th of January at Cairo Opera House very close to Tahrir Square where at the same time the first demonstrations were taking place. But when we were leaving to Upper Egypt one day later nobody really thought that something bigger would come out of this initial protests. Only I had this weird feeling that I should rather be in Cairo witnessing the demonstrations that were expected for Friday the 28th. From Fayoum on we had to travel under police protection, a normal procedure when foreigners were going to Upper Egypt. It is always a total pain because in every governorate a different police escort had to accompany us and as everyone can guess they are always late and the vehicles with the foreigners have to wait again and again. However to make a long story short. We arrived in Sohag and the next day the concert was taking place with the governor, some Coptic and Muslim clerics among the audience, while we were getting news that the protests were spreading to Suez, Alexandria and supposedly also smaller ones somewhere in Sohag, although we didn’t witness any. I was in constant contact with my friends in Cairo. Judging by the information on the internet and what people were telling me something big was to be expected for Friday. At 1am at night my internet went off, by 2am I couldn’t send any sms anymore. At 8am Friday morning I couldn’t reach any of my friend’s mobiles in Cairo. My mobile was still working but the network in Cairo and other cities was switched off. A total communication black out. I was desperately trying to remember landline numbers of some of my friends. We were on the road again, heading to Menia, where the group was to perform this memorable Friday, The Friday of Rage. I kept telling the Germans around me in the bus that I was sure that the concert would be cancelled, but nobody really believed me at that point. Prayer time came and Egypt’s police was getting ready for the dempnstrations that were to kick off after Friday Prayer. Our police escort had grown into several cars and how tensed they were transpired when we wanted to stop for a toilet break. There was no time for peeing now we were told. People were getting nervous and we forced our bus to stop to get to a bathroom. Tensions were running high now, the police was nonstop on their walkie talkies. We were racing but it was clear there was no way that we would arrive before the Prayer had finished. Out of a sudden a sharp right turn, we left the main and direct road to Menia and were instead now driving on some bumpy dusty road. Our second bus got the order too late and we had to wait until it caught up with us. We were informed that there were demonstrations kicking off in Menia and the way to our hotel blocked. I was in the meantime receiving phone calls from friends outside Egypt who were able to watch tv and access the internet and who could update me on what was happening in the rest of Egypt.

The police in Menia coordinated with army and we were taken to the very posh (Thank you America for your billions of dollar support for Egypt’s Army) Army Hotel nicely located at the lush banks of the Nile. It was nerve wrecking, we had to stay in the hotel lobby and garden sipping cold juice while on the other side of the Nile demonstrators and police were battling.

Some of the Egyptian musicians were trying to stay calm amidst these uncertainties and worrying moments.

There was a tv in the hotel lobby and the army was not watching Egyptian state television, but Al Jazeera. Over and over again Al Jazeera was showing footage of the demonstrations in Cairo, and reporting about Alexandria, Suez, Ismailiya and also Menia. I couldn’t believe my eyes, thousands of people demonstrating, teargas, water canons, violence, the police attacking from all sides. And we were locked up in this army hotel of all places, a total surreal situation. After the demonstrations moved more inside Menia we were moved to another hotel at the Nile. I managed to sneak out and walked all the way down the Corniche till I reached the protests. Some dodgy thugs in plain clothes followed me and told me in English to turn around. But I was playing the foolish tourist who wants to see what is the action all about. As I couldn’t get rid of one particular guy I simply joined two women with their children. Maybe about 2000 protesters were playing Tom and Jerry with the police. The protesters would advance and the police retreat only to attack the next moment again. The demonstrators jumped over the low wall beside the sidewalk and ran down to the Nile banks. Clouds of teargas lingering in the air. Forth and back, forth and back. I could sense more thugs watching me and finally decided to get back to the hotel before I got the chance to check out a State Security building from inside. News coming from Cairo and other cities further north were getting worse and worse and I was terrified as we had no means of contacting friends and colleagues in any of those places. Nobody knew how many people were injured or even dead. Our concert was cancelled for obvious reasons and we were sitting together desperately trying to comfort each other.

Mubarak is still smiling down to his people ignorant to their demands.

DIARY TO DEMOCRACY (1st Entry)

25th of January 2011, The First Day
It is now already 3 weeks and 2 days ago that Egypt’s former President Hosni Mubarak stepped down. My emotional state is calmer now and I can finally start this blog. A DIARY TO DEMOCRACY. I will describe my personal experiences, emotions and thoughts during the revolution, post photos, and go on documenting the events, atmosphere, political and social developments that will lead up to the presidential elections sometime later this year.

But now from the beginning. When the first demonstration on 25th of January was announced nobody was quite sure what would happen and how many people would turn up, because traditionally demonstrations were quite small in Egypt and demonstrators normally outnumbered by police.

But then actually a few thousand people turned up and started marching along the Corniche from Downtown, calling for all Egyptians to join in, to fight for democracy together. Prominent figures like Ayman Nour (left), who run for presidential elections in 2005 and who is the head of Al Ghad party, were among the demonstrators.

Protesters are gathering in front the much hated State Television Building that used to be pro Mubarak and would even during the revolution spread lies about current events till the very end. Only a day before Mubarak stepped down -having understood now that they are embarked on a sinking ship- they admitted that there were more than a handful protesters on the streets.

People in Bulaq were watching with curiosity and astonishment when hundreds of protesters were walking through this baladi area calling for every Egyptian to join in. For decades Egyptians felt that their voice didn’t count and many were too scared to even try to have a voice. At this very first day, the 25th of January, most ordinary Egyptians still  did not believe that it would be different this time. This revolution took everybody by surprise. Although deep down many people knew that it was more than overdue.

It was weird, the authorities let the demonstrators walk freely through Cairo. Probably the government was thinking “let them have their demonstration and get rid of their emotions”, hoping that this tactic would work out and the next day everything would be back to normal. Little did they know. I followed the protesters all the way to Shubra, quite a few kilometers from Downtown. This is one of the last photos I took that day. We were walking on the main road in Shubra, passing quite a number of police who looked unarmed, which was very suspicious. I tried to get in front of the march to take a photo from a higher point and climbed on a stone between two cars. People marching towards my lens while I suddenly hear screaming from behind. I turn around and see that we were trapped by police who was baton brandishing running towards the protesters. Panic broke out, police was coming from both ends of the street, no side streets there for escape. Police was running directly towards me and since I was stuck between two parked cars I had nowhere to go except climbing on top of one of the cars hoping nobody would beat me and nobody run over me. I got very scared by this sudden outbreak of violence. But I was really lucky, while people were running over the cars to escape from the police nobody stepped on me. Then one of the police guys left the chain that he had formed with the other police and came towards me. I thought that’s it. Blond foreign woman taking photos of demonstrations in a part of Cairo where tourists definitely don’t happen to be by chance. Not good. But to my wildest surprise he said to me “give me your hand and I take you out of here”. I first refused to climb down from the car but he insisted. hesitantly I gave him my hand and let him help me and sure enough he lead me behind the fighting area. Unharmed. On top of it, he apologised with the words “I’m sorry for that”. Clearly on this very first day the police did not have the clear order to attack journalists. Anyways I was shaken by the whole scene and got into a taxi to escape. The taxi driver looked at me and said with a fatherly voice “what happened to you, you look terrified, I think you need a juice”. And without waiting for my answer he drove to a small shop and bought me a juice. Only in Egypt these things can happen. From being scared to death just minutes before I felt now really touched by this kind gesture. The uncomfortable foreboding of the emotional rollercoaster to come over the next few weeks.