“There will be no revolution in Egypt. Mubarak will get a grip by tomorrow.” Change has always got its nay sayers and haters. We have also got our analysts and academics. We’ve got people sitting around and thinking, unsure of what will happen, waiting to pounce. They’re gonna write something about the would-be revolution, say something about the struggle.
Today however, I want to send all my love to the people on the ground. I saw video of an old man, literally lying on the ground as if reclaiming his country yelling “Tahya Masr, Tahya Masr, Tahya Masr…” [Long live Egypt] I never saw someone lie on the street with such dignity. I feel as if Egypt is my second home, yet I cannot imagine how much courage it must take to go out and protest in Egypt, to face the police state, and have the audacity to hope for change after so many years of military dictatorship.
Today a friend said, “The American government gives our dictators tear gas, but our American friends gave us Facebook and the hope of democracy. We are together in the streets. For tear gas wash your face with coke, for electric shocks put plastic under your clothes and wrap it with tape. For bruises put ice. If you’re attacked just run. Night protests are good. Buy loud speakers and give them away. You can buy them in Bablouk. Most of the people can’t afford them but buy small ones and you can hide them in your bag.”
These small details of courage impressed me, and I just hope that later on the world can hear at least some of the story from people like my friend, instead of me, or academics. In Memory of Forgetfulness Mahmoud Darwish laments how Palestinians do not come on stage “except as a subject for others to take up and interpret”. Today I felt America was talking, talking, talking and there was something shocking about it, the ease at which people encapsulate struggle in words, pinning meaning to a fight that someone else has lived their whole life. So often it seems that even when the people speak truth to power, it’s still power writing our history books. I know there are stories of people’s struggles that in my position of privilege I cannot even know. I’m putting my love and my tears up in the air tonight for you.
In our inherently flawed and mysterious world to persistently seek knowledge and justice is to be a warrior. My love and solidarity with all the people in Egypt and around the world who are fighting for justice. Your courage and hope rock me to the core. Masr wa7shetny, Thawra Hata Nasr, Viva La Revolución.
“All I can say is that I miss you and my sisters, and I think of you all endlessly. I am trying to study hard but I find myself struggling to study at all, so I study struggle instead. And it does not escape me that I a fortunate enough to study it while others live it; so I breathe it, dream it, talk it, write it, love it, spread it, and sip it. But still I cannot say that I live it.” – Ismail Khalidi
Ali Glenesk lived and studied in Cairo. Her piece is crossposted at her blog.
