Alexandria, Egypt
The news of Tunisia's Jasmine Revolution rocked the Egyptian Internet. The blogosphere was full of calls urging people to take to the streets on Jan. 25 and bring down the regime of Hosni Mubarak, just as massive protests toppled the 25-year regime of Zine El Abidine Ben Ali.
For too long, despotic Arab governments have been reassured by the submissiveness and compliance of the people. The events in Tunisia have changed everything.
Initially, I didn't want to participate in the protests. Regime change could mean an Islamist takeover. I was also skeptical that the calls for demonstrations would turn out to be anything but empty words. In my experience, such demonstrations are usually attended only by the few dozen people who organize them, all hard-core political activists.
On Tuesday, as I followed the news of demonstrations in various Egyptian cities, I got a call from a friend, an activist and blogger, who criticized my lack of enthusiasm. She told me that she was going, even though she was sick and would have to leave her child alone at home. I was embarrassed by my hesitation and decided to join her.
We agreed to meet at the Bibliotheca Alexandria. There, we joined the demonstration at Port Said Street, one of the city's major internal roads. Instead of the usual traffic jam, the street was packed with thousands of demonstrators, mostly young people. The scene will stay with me forever: There were demonstrators as far as I could see. As we marched on, demonstrators urged the residents of surrounding buildings to join us, and in many cases they were successful.

At first, it seemed that we were going to walk to the end of Port Said Street without being harassed by police. Some security personnel were accompanying us peacefully, while the armored vehicles of the riot police kept their distance.
We felt relatively safe as we chanted slogans demanding the departure of the Egyptian president, shouting that a plane is waiting to take him out of the country like his Tunisian counterpart. Cheers emphasized the unity of Egyptians—Muslims and Christians—against the regime.
But as we were about to reach the area of Sidi Gaber, specifically the Jesuit Cultural Center, we were besieged by riot police. As some demonstrators lay on the street to prevent the police vehicles from making progress, the police fired live ammunition in the air and threw tear gas grenades. My friend and I ran to the entrance of a building for shelter from the bullets, batons and tear gas. When we found a way to escape safely, the demonstration had already been dispersed.
After about an hour and a half, we joined the demonstration near the Alexandria Sporting Club, where it had been reorganized. But there we were once again confronted with an armored vehicle, which shot a number of tear-gas grenades at us. We fled though alleyways until we got to Safia Zaghloul Street, where the demonstrators intended to march to the governor's headquarters. But I had to take my friend home since it was late.
Tuesday's experience ignited something profound in us. It made us feel that only our own hands can bring change. The streets are the place to protest—real change won't happen from behind computer screens.
Social-networking sites are important—these are the only means we have to broadcast our thoughts and organize ourselves. Not surprisingly, the fact that Facebook and Twitter were instrumental in organizing these demonstrations agitated the authorities. So they did what dictators do: They shut down Twitter, as well as the websites of Al-Dostour and Al-Masry Al-Youm newspapers. Facebook, YouTube, Gmail and Blogspot have also been shut down intermittently.
This is the first time that the regime has so blatantly censored the Internet. These extraordinary measures show that the government is losing control. And the violent approach used to confront the demonstrators is evidence of further weakness. Mr. Mubarak may hang on. But Egypt will never be the same.
Mr. Amer, an Egyptian blogger, recently served a four-year prison sentence for views expressed on his blog.
1 comments:
I have been so moved by the courage of a nation that I dedicated a song to aide in their plight.
See YouTube "Requiem for Mubarak" by Bend49er
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