DAY 4 - THE "BIG" DAY
SYNOPSIS: What I saw and what happened in a couple of hours spent in the neighborhood. A little bit about my fellow hotel-mates. An even smaller bit about the art of "manifesting". A mention of whiskey and the advantage of being a women. Not necessarily in this order, but since I have time - curfew started at 5 PM, it will be a long blog. :-)
The gun shots started pretty much the minute it went dark, right outside on the street, last night. It did not sound like a battle, more like frequent warning shots; probably by the neighborhood watch guys who did not want anyone unknown to come near them. But then, what do I know? And in the distance it sounded like the noise from a football game. The occasional roar, honking, tooting, shouting; all quite muffled since Tahrir square is almost a mile away. But obviously, the 5 PM curfew did not mean much to the demonstrators or the thugs out there. With my ear plugs however, I should have been sleeping well.
But there was the cold - my blankets are paper thin and the nights are cool. Before I bundled up with extra socks and a sweater, I was freezing. And there were the mosquitoes! By the morning I had, I swear, no less than 10 bites on my face as that was all that was exposed. And the way I react to mosquitoes, I was all swollen up; awful. And finally, there was my jet lag and by 2 AM I was up emailing instead of sleeping. I finally took a sleeping pill which put me out cold until 10 AM despite the hard bed and the hard pillow - how could I forget about that?! Beds are hard in this part of the world, but not as hard yet as they were in Iran. I almost missed breakfast: Some butter, some jam, two soft rolls, and tea. For now, the hotel is still stocked with the essentials. They are not telling us for how long.
Food shortages were on the news already days ago and to prepare for the worst, I stacked up on four pounds of chocolate spiked with nuts and fruit at the Duty-free in Frankfurt. I also have with me dozens of purification pills which would turn any puddle into drinking water. So, no worry folks, I won't starve.
BELGIAN/EGYPTIAN SARAH
The hotel was pretty empty this morning. I think more people got out of the country and home; a couple of French guys and a Swedish couple were gone. Sarah, a round Egyptian woman who really is Belgian - as a child her family emigrated - is still waiting for her opportunity to leave. A young, confused and scared looking Japanese boy was also still here. Communication with both of them is limited. And a retired guy from California, deaf in one ear, was also still hanging out. He is on a year's journey and in no hurry. Communication with him is bit difficult and I keep it to the essentials. I hate shouting. But he and I decided to venture out this morning. I lent him my laptop for some urgent emails - all internet cafe's are still closed as are almost all of the other non-essential stores. In return, he offered to show me the neighborhood. He had been stranded here for a few days already and knew the area.
He thought we could safely walk along the Nile down to the American Embassy. He had done it in past days, but today was no ordinary day. We were stopped at every corner by either army or civilian guys. Who are we, why are we here, where are we going. We finally gave up and turned back to the hotel after picking up some sweets from a corner bakery that was open. We also saw that pharmacies were open. Most other stores were not only closed, but plastered with either newspaper or covered in white paint - a measure to discourage looters as it is not obvious any more what's inside the store. I wonder if that would really stop a looting mob. It reminds me of our idea in Pakistan, when we fastened a People's Party flag at the front of our car hoping that the angry PP supporters in the streets would spare us should we not be able to avoid a violent crowd. It makes so much sense when you do it and seems to utterly naive when you look back on it.
STREET MOSQUE SERVICE
Today is the "Day of Departure" - named so by the protesters. The Mubarak supporters had vouched to gather in mosques in the morning and then... nobody knew. The mosques were blasting their sermons through loudspeakers all across town. To our shock and amazement one such service was going on right in front of our hotel entrance. Outside a tiny street mosque, the men had rolled out carpets right into our alley and were listening to the loudspeaker broadcasting the imam's message. I wish I could speak Arabic. I have no idea what they were saying. But it could not have been too bad. We were back at the safety of the hotel by 1 PM, the time mosque services were over. And surprisingly enough no violence erupted. None. The protest-gathering seemed to be concentrated as before around Tahrir Square. No spill over. And now, but 6 PM, no blood-shed yet. Or is there? Government TV is the only TV we can receive at our hotel. And they reported none. As Maria pointed out in one of her recent comments - one of the female reporters of that government channel just resigned in protest over all the half-truths and censored news she had to report. But private citizens for the most part have satellite TV and access to foreign news. I think if there was violence, we would have heard about it. Foreign journalists however, seem to face a new situation. Just like we, they get stopped at every corner, have their gear confiscated in the worst case scenario, and for sure, they are not getting to Tahrir Square from where they were expected to report.
When Wayne, the deaf American, and I returned, we found a hotel full of new guests. There was Nicholas from France and his assistant from the Arte channel. Tomasus from Mexico - I did not catch the channel he is working for. And Michalis from Cyprus. He came, like me, yesterday to be here with his Egyptian friends. He was going to be among the protesters today, but never got through. His story is interesting: We arrived at the Cairo airport just about at the same time. Just like me, he took a taxi to get downtown. Just like me he was stopped by a civilian patrol. But unlike me, the civilians took him to the army and suspected him to be a foreign spy, one of those evil "instigators". He was interrogated - in a friendly way he said - over and over. He finally made up a story about visiting relatives here. But since the curfew had started (or was that just the excuse?) the army kept him inside their tank overnight! There he met another suspicious foreigner - a camera man from Lebanon- who by now also ended up in our hotel. What a popular spot this hotel is and what a mixed crowd we are by now!
I wonder what would have happened to Wayne this morning without me? We got stopped over and over and I guess, mistaken for a couple. Couples seem to be seen as harmless tourists rather than as dangerous spies. Just like Michalis, we were taken by a civil guard to a military barrack. That was more than all the other checks we had gone through at first. On the way, we watched four men dragging a fifth man whom they repeatedly kicked and shouted at. I guess, I looked very uncomfortable since our civilian guard started to say repeatedly: "You safe - this thief." OK, it was still disconcerting to see this man punched by people with no authority. On the other hand, with the police completely deserting the people, what choice do they have but the take law into their own hands?
At the army base, we were handed over to an officer. He inspected our passports and welcomed us to his country with a big smile! But then he wanted to know if I had a camera. I could have lied since I had it tucked way down, literally into my underpants, and thanks to my forever baggy clothes it was completely invisible. But I did not want to be caught with a lie. So I admitted to it and dug it up. He inspected every picture and made me delete all the wonderful closeups of tanks I had gotten this morning. So it goes. He could have taken the whole chip, or worse, the whole camera, so I felt lucky. After that we lost our taste for exploration and went back to the hotel where we found all those new arrivals I mentioned earlier.
After the streets had remained quiet for a few hours after mosque services, I talked to Sarah, the overweight Belgien-Egyptian. For days she has not left the hotel. She is very friendly, but does not talk much to anyone. She is a bit of an outsider in this touristy crowd. I approached her. She only speaks French. But with the usual hand and smile language I gather that she has four adult children. She came to visit family and now really wants to go home. I invited her to go out with me around the block to buy some food. I had seen a guy come in with falafels! She could not believe that I was inviting her to a walk and took me up on it after checking with the reception to make sure they thought we would be fine. We walked a couple of blocks to a fast-food kebab-falafel place and for a mere 50 cents I got three wonderful falafels in pita bread for dinner. Later we heard, that Wayne, who had gone out on his own to the same falafel place was harassed by a group of men. He finally was pulled out by a sympathetic Egyptian who got the others off his back. Nothing like this happened to Sarah and myself, two women, even though I am obviously a foreigner. Sarah was visibly beaming about her achievement of going out and as a thanks forced a great, red apple on me. And speaking of things which just come along when you need them:
Nicola, my travel partner from Pakistan in 2007, inquired about my supply of whiskey in an email to me yesterday. In a daring move - I would never have been brave enough to do that - she had smuggled a big bottle of whiskey into Pakistan which afforded both of us a nightcap until the brother of one of our guides got wind of this and nearly depleted us in a single session. If we had not stopped him, he would have finished the entire bottle at once. No, I had no whiskey. No room in my carry-on when I was at the Dutyfree and now, no store is open that would sell alcohol. But can you believe it? As I talked to Michalis about his adventure of being held in an army tank overnight, he lamented about two bottles of booze he had bought at the Dutyfree for his Egyptian friend. He does not drink and he cannot get to his friend either. Now what? I had a solution! I bought the bottle of whiskey from him. He was glad to have the money back. Now, against the odds, I can have a whiskey night cap just like the good old days. I will drink to you, dear Nicola in remembrance of our Pakistan adventure, and to all of you out there who are still reading this long blog.
Another proof that there is such a thing as the power of manifesting! If you read last year's blog, you might remember my conviction: When you need something really bad it will manifest itself somehow; at times in the most unusual ways. Now, I can't say that I needed that whiskey, but it sure is nice to have it.
The pictures you see of tanks have been donated by Wayne who took them a couple of days ago.
Prost!
ET