Egypt's Tahrir struggles to turn page of revolution

On the eve of Egypt's first presidential vote since the ouster of Hosni Mubarak, a few diehard demonstrators are still camped out in Cairo's Tahrir Square, epicenter of the country's 2011 revolt.
On the southern side of the enormous traffic circle, where dozens of vehicles press together in a concert of car horns, a handful of tents sit at the foot of the Mugamma, the bureaucratic behemoth that was once the heart of the Egyptian regime.
"The revolution is not over. We cut off the head of the system, but there is still the arms, the legs," insists Ashraf Al-Tayeb, who says he speaks in the name of the "campers."
"We don't need a president, we don't need control from the military," he adds, calling for the establishment of a 10-person presidential committee charged with writing new legislation and implementing reforms for a year. "After one year, we will see who works well, who does the best and who is able to be our president."
On Tahrir's once-grassy median, covered in sand since the revolution, a few other makeshift tents remain.
Magdy Eskander, 64, his beard and hair whitened by time, is seeking justice for his son. He says that he was killed by a policeman on Jan. 28, 2011, but the authorities say he died in a brawl.
"I hope for freedom and human rights for everyone," says Eskander, a Coptic Christian, whose makeshift tent features a poster of leftist presidential candidate Hamdeen Sabbahi.
A few meters away, another protester has dedicated his tent to the Salafist politician Hazem Abu Ismail, whose presidential run was cut short when an electoral committee ruled he could not stand.
Next to the tents, many of them covered with blankets and plastic sheets, a handful of individuals try to make a few pounds by selling cups of steaming hot tea.
"These people must go," says Akram Ibrahim with frustration. He runs a small shop selling cakes and pastries, but has seen his business drop off, with both foreign tourists and ordinary Egyptians staying away.
“Some people are afraid,” says 29-year-old Ibrahim.
He says he is "proud of what happened in Egypt" but admits that he hopes the authorities will remove the remaining protesters from Tahrir after the presidential vote and clean the area up.
In an adjacent street, which artists have covered with paintings inspired by Egypt's ancient history and recent revolution, 27-year-old Tamer Fahmy says he also thinks it is time for the Tahrir protesters to go home. "Going to Tahrir is not the solution. The solution is to work, to produce," says Fahmy, an engineer.
"The next step will be very difficult for Egypt," he adds. It "will take time to change the whole system."
All around the square, small vendors offer their wares: cigarettes, souvenirs and SpongeBob SquarePants T-shirts. By the entrance to the underground, rows of shiny shoes are on display.
Egyptian flags are in plentiful supply, and in a nod to the upcoming vote, there are badges and key rings featuring the colors of various political parties and the faces of candidates in the running.
Ali Amin, standing in front of the small travel agency where he works, has a direct view of the remaining activists in Tahrir, which he calls the place that "changed everything" for Egypt.
During the uprising, his office became a headquarters for protesters, who "controlled what happened on the square and watched the international channels."
But since those heady days, he has seen his business drop off significantly.
"Before the revolution, I had about 100 files of Western tourists for a season, but for now I have only five."
Despite the downturn, Amin expresses no bitterness.
Instead, he dreams of a new look for the center of Tahrir — the building of a step pyramid of sorts, covered in green and with each step paying tribute to elements of the revolution.