We walked toward the sounds of the gunshots and we slowly deciphered rebellious roars and a loud exchange of words between security guards and troublemakers who were destroying the roundabout and tearing down advertising billboards. Men dressed in civilian clothes walked up to us hastily and cried out: “Go home! Why are you here? You have no business being here!” We reluctantly turned around and headed in the opposite direction. We encountered groups of young men on the streets who seemed to be under the influence of some sort of narcotic stimulant. They were waving knives, batons and belts while inquiring noisily where the protest was. We just looked ahead and walked past them ignoring their dirty insinuations and verbal abuse.
My tolerance hit rock bottom. I broke down. I really wanted to hear my husband and children’s voices. How I missed them! I thought I had lost contact with them for over 24 hours because our landline does not have international subscription, and if it did, my husband did not know my mother’s landline number. Here I was stuck in the heart of what was turning into a major popular revolution and I remember dreading the ordeal that my children and husband were going through in Jeddah, coping with the disastrous effects of the floods! As much as I longed to be with them, I was also glad to be in Cairo with my mother.
Gunshots continued well into the night — a sound that we had grown accustomed to for four nights straight now.
As soon as the curfew ended on Saturday morning, I kissed my crying mother and hopped into the car with the same driver who had picked me up a few days before. We headed to the airport before another curfew was declared and thwarted my journey to the airport. There was no way I could reach any of the persons I was supposed to meet that morning and I doubted any of them would even attempt to make the appointments!
We traveled through several roadblocks until we reached the toll stations preceding the entrances to Cairo International Airport. There we were subjected to a thorough car search before being allowed to proceed. Hany — the driver who took me around for the previous five days and had developed a sense of duty and responsibility toward me — refused to just drop me off. He wanted to ensure that I was safely checked in. We battled our way through people sitting, lying and sleeping on the floor waiting for news of their flights which had not even flown in.
There were people rioting in front of airline offices demanding answers to their million and one questions about their flights, and there were security guards trying to keep everything under control! We both noticed that some people were using their mobile telephones. The mobile networks were back — at least on and off. I quickly called my husband to let him know where I was; I then called my mother and mother-in-law. Hany and I parted at the luggage security check. Only passengers could venture beyond it.
He still refused to leave until I was checked in and came back to give him a “thumbs up” that everything was OK from behind the separating glass. I rushed to the Saudia counters, which were crawling with angry and panicking nationals trying to get on flights. People were ready to fly out to any destination, as long as they were getting out of Cairo, safe and sound. I queued for approximately one hour until I was able to check my suitcase filled with unused clothes. I was informed that the flight was scheduled to leave. I went back to reassure Hany and went through passport control. I wept as I called my mother. What a decision! Leave my mother behind or stay away from my husband and children! My heart truly ached! The pain was piercing.
This journey seemed to take forever. It was this same route that I had enjoyed four days before in the opposite direction as I arrived in Cairo, ready for some professional, familial and social action. However, what I witnessed this time broke my heart! Frantic pedestrians filled the highway. Most of them walked with nude torsos swaying their arms in the air with pocketknives and other types of arms. They were attacking passing cars. They banged on the hoods and trunks of cars to scare drivers into stopping so they could loot them. Meanwhile, the city center was going up in flames — that same shopping mall that stood tall and busy a few days before was slowly melting away right in front of my eyes. The heavy black smoke filled the air and I could not take a breath! In the midst of this sad scene, the-hungry-people-of-Egypt-turned-thieves robbed whatever goods and food they could get hold of from fire-engulfed stores, which included the hypermarket Carrefour.
The people are hungry, and Egypt is paying the price.
