Fire in Cairo

Last Monday the Ministry of the Interior, located next to my house,  was burning. Dozens of firemen cars were passing by, while we were sitting at “our” coffee-shop, which is just round the corner of the Ministry. Their sirens were covering our voices. I had just come back from the neibourghood of Zamalek, where a solidarity demonstration was held in front of the Lybian Embassy, it had  taken me one hour to come back by taxi. I live in the area where all the ministers and public offices are located, so it’s like the safest place, as all the army is concentrated here, but at the same time, it’s the hottest spot.

Last Monday was the first time that we really met after so long. We both came alone, and he took off his glasses, which was for me was a sign of modesty.  While we were sitting at the coffee shop, people were running by to go and see the burnt building. We could smell the smoke and we had to shout louder than the sirens to hear each other. The police itself burnt the ministry, the owner of the café told me. Ommal eh? They want higher salaries, and the only way they find to protest is burning! Of course the main subject of our discussion was the revolution. It was clear that we had both closed the book, without questioning too much about it.

Demonstrations, imprisonment, being beaten by the police was more an adventure for him, as for many other voices I have heard before. For many young people it was ayyam helwa, nice days. For many foreigners it was “so fucking fun”. For an old taxi driver, it was a lesson of love. But also, for many adults it is now a broken economy, an event that delayed many activities and canceled many upcoming projects.

Whatever it is, it is something to be proud of. And Egyptians like to show off, at least as much as the Italians, undoubtely the opposite of Norwegians. And this event make them so proud, that sometimes seems to take their interest off from anything else. Well, sheddu helkum ya gama’a, get ready, because now it’s not time to celebrate anymore or to complain for the Muslim Brothers. Now it’s the time for real change. 

Egypt after the revolution

I am back to my community in Cairo. Nothing seems to be changed but actually everything is different. I have missed the revolution but I am still in time to live its immediate effects.

Cairo under the curfew is not the same any more. Forget sitting at Taka’yba until the dawn. Last order in Hurreya is at 11pm, and at 11,30 we have to pull ourself together and run, to be at home before midnight.

The house of love, where I have spent the most meaningful days of my life, has been rented by someone else, but my old orange bedcover is still hanging on the balcony. It has its meaning also. It helps me to realize that the old days are over, and I have started a new phase of my life. Now I am sharing a flat with a Lebanese girl very close to Downtown.

There are two tanks parked under my building and dozens of soldiers sitting in front of the gate of the building. They are supposed to give me a sense of security, but for me they represent more the ghost of the past demonstrations. I look at them yawning from my window, and I can even hear the music played by their mobiles. I would like to throw roses at them, or teddy bears, just to keep them busy. Actually the soldiers are the new stars of the revolution. They are well-dressed and good-looking. Groups of teenagers stand around them to take photos and their mobile numbers. 

 The revolution has also made a new business: tshirts for 15 pounds “Rais up your head, you are Egyptian”, stickers “25 January” and even glasses and mugs with the colours of the Egyptian flag. The name of the metro station Mubarak has been canceled with a red pencil in every car of the underground and replaced with Revolution “25^th January”. In every taxi, corner, shop, or coffee shop people talk about politics. Yes, the lazy, selfless Egyptians, whose slogan was Ma’lesh, Bokra, in sha allah ( No Problem, Tomorrow, God willing) now are concerned to change their country and to continue their struggle for democracy.

Today was the big day. The Referendum for the Constitution amendments. Our friends went to vote for the first time in their life. And I was there with them, queuing for 3 hours, under the sun, looking at their patience and excitement. Men, women, old and young people, discussing about yes or no, sharing food and water, taking photos of their red fingers. And actually their red finger was the first conquest of this revolution. We still don’t know what will come out of it, if they will accept the amendments of if they will manage to have a new constitution. But the core of this day was that for the first time people felt that their voice had a meaning.

Egypt is a long story. Hikeya. And everyone is a storyteller.Hakkawy. I could stand listening for hours, with my eyes and my mouth wide open and my dreamy attitude, my usual face expression for which everybody like to make fun of me.