My meetings went on as planned. It was “business as usual” and most comments relating to the matter were light, even sometimes humorous. My afternoon meeting was off Tahrir Square and, in the back of my mind, all day I wondered if it was safe to travel to that area. I got the secretary to check with their downtown offices and everyone had a positive attitude: “Of course the meeting is on. We are waiting for you.”
Once again, I hopped into the car and headed toward downtown Cairo. The driver took me from a back road, avoiding having to pass through Tahrir Square and I reached my destination without problems well ahead of my meeting time. On the way, I noticed a huge number of security guards on the streets, especially on the roads leading to Tahrir Square and important government offices. However, they stood there, anticipating problems that may arise on the second day of demonstrations.
The gates to the building were closed and blocked by security, asking people to go home. I told them I had a meeting with the director and they let me through. I walked up two flights of stairs, almost fighting my way through people flowing down rushing to get to their families and homes before the streets closed. I remember wondering why on earth I was still trying to make it to my meeting. That is just the type of person I am!
The director’s secretary stood at the door with her handbag in her hand. The expression on her face was one of alarm and dismay. She showed me in, apologized for leaving and fled. The director was on the phone. He had taken it on himself to call each of his employees to tell them that work was disrupted and people refrain from coming in. Eventually, we managed to hold a very fruitful meeting despite the circumstances but decided it was best to cut it short to ensure our safe return to our respective homes. By now the streets had crowded with more security. I could see at a distance that protesters started to gather again, marching toward Tahrir Square.
We managed to find our way through the pedestrian masses and just like in the movies, the moment we passed through roadblocks, the streets would close down right behind us. I had the nerve to make one short stop at my in-laws because I was not sure what tomorrow would bring and how mobile I would be. I safely made my way home to Maadi. Throughout the day, my mother had smothered me with frantic telephone calls and I could see in her eyes that she had finally settled down now that I was home.
How did this all start? A few people on Facebook and other social networks thought they could arouse the interest, anger, despair and humiliation of the Egyptian people to Mubarak’s 30-year regime. Did they not realize that Egypt has a population of 80 million of which only a small percentage would be able to grasp the ideologies they were voicing and would know how to respect the boundaries dictated by what is termed “peaceful protest”? Did they not realize that there were many angry and suppressed people who would take advantage of the situation to escalate it into the adversity it has become today? Now what? I barely had time to shower and dress for a dinner reception for the wedding guests who had flown in from abroad. It was like a breath of fresh air in the midst of the events of the past two days. We greeted and mingled, the ladies decorated various parts of their bodies with traditional henna, we took pictures, and we ate till we dropped! For those few hours, we were actually able to unwind and focus on our family wedding. Little did we know what tomorrow was to bring. Thursday morning at 7.15 a.m., there I was getting into the car to attend my meetings for the day once again in the fifth settlement in Kattameya. My morning meetings went on as scheduled. Nobody expressed their thoughts out aloud but I am sure, just like me, everyone was wondering what was going on. During one of my meetings, my sister sent me a text message: “Manicure/pedicure appointment tomorrow canceled. Hairdresser too.”
Halfway through the morning, one meeting after another began to be canceled/postponed, or the other attendees simply did not turn up.
By the time I was able to respond to my sister, she said she had tried all the beauty salons she could think of and they all apologized and said they were going to be closed on Friday. At this point, I could not care less about my hair and nails! We were going to the wedding regardless.
Thursday evening was again spent tuned to various television stations — local, regional and international — to hear what the world was saying about the situation. We waited. What did we wait for? I am not sure. I suppose we waited to see the reaction of the presidency. Where was President Mubarak? Why had he not yet addressed the people of Egypt? The people of Egypt were waiting and so was the world. There were rumors that the first lady, her sons and their families had fled to London and the women had been seen shopping on Oxford Street! The more sensible people knew that was nonsense, but many got ticked off even more.
Late into the night, I was surprised that my daughter had not sent me a million and one mobile text messages like she usually does. I checked my phone and realized that the network was down. I wanted to use Skype to call her but there was no Internet access either. At first I presumed that the problem was limited to our personal Internet connections. Then my aunt called on our landline and asked if we had Internet connection. They too had been cut off. What a catastrophe! For over 10 years now, we have grown dependent on our mobile lines and it struck me that I did not know my own sisters’ and other family members and friends’ landlines. Now what? No Internet, no mobiles and no car. And my mother then realized, “no bread.” We sat quietly, glued to the television until once again we gave in to sleep.
(To be continued tomorrow)
