When I read in Al Jazeera, one year ago from today, that the Egyptians had taken to the streets to protest against the regime, I did not take it too seriously. I had lived in Cairo for 10 months and the the belief of Mubarak´s inmunity was rooted so deep in the Egyptian minds that they had managed to pass their apathy to me.
The date of January 25th was declared by Mubarak the National Police Day in 2009, in memory of the 50 policemen who were killed by the British army in 1952 after refusing to disarm and surrender at a police station in Ismailia. In 2009 and 2010 there were riots in Cairo, Alexandria and other cities of the Suez Canal when groups of young protesters took to the streets to protest against the Emergency Law and the brutal police repression. So, while I kept a curious eye on what was happening, I thought the events would not go beyond the typical clashes of January 25th.
It was on the 28th when I actually woke up and realised that something big was going on. It happened when I saw the image of hundreds of thousands of Egyptian demonstrators in the streets shouting at the top of their lungs that they wanted the falling of Mubarak, defying a powerful Interior Ministry whose police had killed almost one hundred protestors already.
I stopped everything I was doing in Jerusalem, I took a backpack and reached Cairo in 12 hours. Two intense weeks of work, almost living in Tahrir Square ... Today newspapers and agencies will surely make a compilation of everything that happened during those 18 days. In my particular tribute, what I want to remember is the indestructible sense of humor of the Egyptians, something I could not write too much about at the time but which remained intact before, during and after the revolution, something that, to me, is heroic enough by itself.
I arrived in Tahrir Square on the first day not knowing what I was going to find after a couple of hundred demonstrators killed. After answering (apparently correctly) to the question "Real Madrid or Barcelona?” done by one of the protesters who guarded the access to the square, and after a volunteer women searched me, I found before me a packed square that looked like a festival instead of a demonstration. Some were singing, some others were marching around the roundabout demanding the falling of the regime, some others were nailing tents to the floor and young people were playing guitars and djembes.... People had brought from home or nearby cafes bags of food and drinks and they were sharing them with the rest, and everyone respected the garbage dump points, which were the charred police vans recycled and turned into containers. In one corner of the square, a family had built a desk with several pieces of wood. On top of it, it was written: "Bedouin Embassy in Cairo." "As we, the Bedouins of Sinai, are ignored, we have opened our own office in Tahrir to begin diplomatic relations with the true state," the mother of the family said from the window, fully getting into the ambassador role.
From the beginning you could hear jokes here and there: "If the revolution succeeds in Egypt, we will meet Tunisia in the finals," some said. "Mubarak, you´re trying to dance well, but remember that I am the owner of the club" sang another. After several days, the jokes took over the posters and slogans. In front of a tent, one man´s panel said: "Mubarak, leave, I miss my wife”. "Mubarak, do it fast because after we will have to study it at school” said a girl´s poster. Another one simply claimed: "Mubarak, leave now, my arms are sore from holding the panel!” On top of one of the platforms of the square, a young man with a guitar was dedicating a song to the public entitled "The farewell of the donky."
People also began to post jokes on the social networks, that were after commented in the square. "An army officer tells Mubarak: it´s over, you have to write a farewell speech to the people." Mubarak replied: "Why? Where are they going? ". There were also references to media coverage of events. The day it rained, almost on the second week of protests, someone had posted: "Latest News. It´s raining in Tahrir. Al Baradei: "The regime is fully responsible for the rain in Tahrir." Muslim Brotherhood: "We will not talk with the regime until the rain ceases in Tahrir." Al Jazeera: "Our correspondent has informed us that thugs are responsible for the rain in Tahrir." The protesters, "We caught a few drops of rain and we have identified them as secret policemen." State television: "What traitors are saying is false: It´s not raining in Tahrir."
One warm day I decided to go to a tea stall that had been settled in the middle of the square since the first day I arrived. I do not think there was a single protester who had not drunk a glass of tea or Turkish coffee from that place by the end of the revolution. I asked him if he had bottles of water to sell. He said he didn´t, but offered himself to take me to the place where I could buy one. On the way, I took the opportunity to ask him for his opinion on the revolution and the demonstrators. The answer, as surprising as overwhelmingly honest: "I love Mubarak, I believe he´s a hero, but since I got here I sell a lot of tea!"
After several calm days in Tahrir, more street vendors decided to settle in the square. I started talking with one that was selling cheese sandwiches at 15 cents. "All these people here asking Mubarak to leave, and he´s so old that he may die any moment now anyway!” was his political analysis on the situation.
During my stay in Tahrir I met an Egyptian journalist who had been jailed several times by the regime because of his critical articles. He was demonstrating in Tahrir as any other protestor and he used to call me from time to time to let me know about the events. One day he called to tell me that the demonstrators had reached the Parliament building, located one hundred meters outside the square. "Are you planning to reach more places?" I asked. "Yes," he replied, "we will reach Tel Aviv. Since they choose our government, we´ll go and choose theirs."
State television, meanwhile, was telling its own version of events. The day that nearly one million and a half protesters gathered in the square, local channels reported that there were only 2,000 and, in a display of creativity, they said the Kentucky Fried Chicken located in Tahrir was feeding them. The following day I found several demonstrators in front of the closed gate of Kentucky handing out homemade cookies and cakes to the demonstrators, and they were shouting: "Kentucky food, Kentucky food!" Others encouraged the rest to schedule protests against the maths teachers from the public education system because “they didn´t teach us the numbers properly”.
When Omar Suleiman finally announced the resignation of Mubarak, the square burst into a party. In front of a tent, a group of protesters chanted, "Mubarak is gone from power, and we´re going to the shower!"
The next day, the crowd in Tahrir organized itself to repaint the square and clean it before leaving. Sweepers and painters were wearing a poster in their chests where one could read: "Sorry for the inconvenience, we are rebuilding Egypt." But the clear winner was the sign that a young man was holding in front of the place where protesters were taking away the fences that had clogged the entrances to the square: "Mubarak, you can return now, this has been a candid camera prank!"
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