FORUM: In Cairo, we watch, we wait, we hope

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Published: 3 February, 2011
by SUNITA RAPPAI

On the streets of Cairo there is a sense that history is being made, even as the city blazed again last night 

CAIRO is on fire once again. I am at home now (Wednesday) and watching the footage live on Al Jazeera and it is horrifying, infinitely depressing. There is carnage in the city’s Tahrir Square today, worse than on Friday. 

There are reports of petrol bombs, gunfire,  knives and sticks, 500 wounded, buildings on fire again, including, reportedly, the Egyptian Museum. Before, the riot police were a common, easily identifiable enemy – now it is Egyptian against Egyptian and it is impossible to know who is friend or foe.  

Until today, we worried about the army turning on its people but not this. This level of infighting has come out of the blue.  

We went to Tahrir earlier today and the change in atmosphere from yesterday was dramatic. Today is the first day I felt fear. We knew, from last night’s footage of the clashes in Alex immediately after Mubarak’s speech, that the pro-government demonstrators would be out, and they were. 

At the entrance to Tahrir from Kasr-El-Nil Bridge, small groups of pro-Mubarak supporters held signs saying “We love Mubarak.” We have heard from reliable sources of money changing hands to buy pro-government support – 200LE (around £20) per person.

Where yesterday was festive, today was tense, volatile. The army had warned people this morning to stay at home. There were still a few thousand people there but nowhere near the huge numbers of yesterday.  

Unlike yesterday, when everyone seemed to share a common goal, today you no longer knew whether you were looking at pro- or anti- government protesters. Everywhere, there were scuffles breaking out. At one point, three young men – no more than teenagers – grabbed a huge sign laid out on the Square saying “Game over” and rolled it up, stamping on it. Others rushed to them and took the poster back, rolling it out again. There was no violence at that point but the tension was palpable.

I asked some protesters what they had thought of Mubarak’s speech. They told me that it was a “joke”; they had been there since the beginning and would not leave until Mubarak left.  

At that point, we saw people running towards us, away from something, so we ran too. Looking back, I saw rocks and stones flying through the air, not far from the Egyptian Museum. A friend called us from Mohandissen and told us that 20,000 pro-Mubarak supporters had gathered and were probably heading towards Tahrir.  

We started moving towards the exit – already there was a mini-stampede – and walked slowly back to Zamalek, my neighbourhood. On the streets, we passed more people holding pro-Mubarak signs and photos. Cars honked as they passed us, signalling support for the government. For the first time, I avoided eye contact with the people I passed.

I have no doubt that there is a level of legitimate support for Mubarak. There are many who feel that enough is enough – that it is time for the protest to end and that many of the opposition’s demands have now been met. They want him to be allowed to serve out his term, even though not all believe he will keep his word. 

The country is in chaos and there is real fear that the economy will not recover from this for a long time. Mubarak’s speech on Tuesday was emotional – at times it reminded me of Evita: “Don’t cry for me, Egypt.” I have always served my country, he said, and everything I did, I did for the Egyptian people. I want to die on Egyptian soil.  

But there is little doubt too that some of the pro-Mubarak people out on the streets have been bought – the evidence for that is overwhelming. The fact that state TV shows a completely different version of events has also deepened the divide between the factions, and intensified the pro-government fervour.  

The pro-Mubarak people say they want to “liberate” Tahrir, with their blood if necessary. The official opposition, such as it is, has virtually disappeared and for the first time, the anti-government protests seem to be losing momentum. 

If they “lose” Tahrir tonight, few will have the courage to return – for good reason. So far, the army has not intervened and I think, on balance, that is a good thing. Whose side would they be on?

It is going to be a long night.

Normal life in many ways ceased on Friday, after the battle of Kasr-El-Nil Bridge. Since then, those who can have been raiding supermarket shelves and stocking up on supplies. Bakeries have already introduced rationing – no more than 10 slices of bread per person. The banks are closed and few ATMs are working. 

There are road blocks all over Cairo at night, manned by the men of each neighbourhood, to deter looters, after the police all but disappeared after Friday. Few shops and no businesses are open. There is a curfew every day, roughly from 4pm to 8am (sometimes from 3pm). And yet somehow we have resumed a new kind of reality. We have gone out during the day to restock, get some fresh air, meet friends and neighbours and get a feel for what’s happening. 

Earlier in the week, we spoke to demonstrators. Many were worried that their message is not getting through to the outside world and were eager to speak to foreigners. Some had been there since January 25, when the protests began. They were all, to a man, upbeat and determined to keep going until Mubarak stands down. 

They sensed that the momentum was with them, but disagreed as to what should happen next – if they thought about it at all. 

These are uncertain times for Egypt but there has been tremendous excitement in the air – a sense that history is being made. More than anything, there is a sense of pride among my Egyptian friends – perhaps the one thing they feel was lost most under the current regime. 

Until today, they seemed united with one common aim – to remove Mubarak. 

If, or when, that happens the real struggle will begin. 

In the meantime, we watch, we wait and we hope. 

• Sunita Rappai is a former Camden New Journal journalist