Sleepless in Tahrir

On January 28, after a day-long battle with riot police, protesters took over Tahrir Square. For the next two weeks, the square became the headquarters of the anti-Mubarak demonstrations, with thousands of people making demonstrations their sole occupation, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Tahrir became more than just a venue to express dissent with the ruling regime; it became a fully functioning mini-society, and the protesters quickly put together their own system to manage the needs of their new community. Intrigued by the spontaneity of this organization, I decided to spend a night in the square to see up close how the protesters ran their square. I showed up on February 8, when hundreds of thousands had walked into Tahrir to protest against the regime of former president Hosni Mubarak. By 10pm, the square had emptied again, with just a few thousand remaining. Protesters were preparing to spend the night. A few people were setting up their tents from metal rods and tarp. Others were getting blankets from one of the distribution points, which were giving out hundreds of donated covers. The first Tahrir residents I met were Amr and his family. An electrician by profession, Amr had come to the square on January 25 and has stayed since then. His wife Amal and five children joined him a week later. “My 1-year-old son's first words were, 'Tahrir hatta Tahrir!' [Tahrir until liberation]” Amal told me proudly. She was seven months pregnant and has decided to call the baby Horreya (freedom) if it’s a girl or Nasr (victory) if it’s a boy. As we talked about democracy, freedom and human dignity, a few people passed by giving out sandwiches of fuul and tameya. “Look at this — Kentucky,” Amal said with a smile, pointing at her fuul sandwich. Rumors circulating outside Tahrir that the protesters were being paid in dollars and fed KFC meals had become a popular joke for people in the square during meal times. What provided the Tahrir residents with food were not KFC trucks, but hundreds of volunteers who crossed the checkpoints daily at each end of the square to bring in supplies. Money for food was collected from protesters and whoever wanted to donate outside the square; provisions were bought and distributed early in the morning and late at night to avoid the crowds that came only during the day. One of these volunteers, a human rights activist who only introduced herself as Kholoud, says that she would collect money from friends every day and buy food for people in the square. “For example, I have five acquaintances; each of them would give me a box of cheese, a sack of bread, a few boxes of water and juice, and that would be the average amount of food that I would bring into Tahrir daily,” she explains, pointing to a bag of bread and cheese. “I’m taking this one to the protesters at the Maglis Al-Shaab [People’s Assembly].” Kholoud was spending her nights away from her home at a friend’s apartment near Tahrir, which gathered a few other activists who used the kitchen to cook food and make tea for the protesters. She and her friends were supplying food without getting orders from anyone, they figured out what was needed just by talking to people in the square. These volunteers were also responsible for supplying medicine for the three makeshift clinics and mosque-turned-hospital at Tahrir. When I visited one of the clinics, its ‘supply room’ was overflowing with generic medicine, bandages and disinfecting liquids. “All of the doctors are volunteers. We are here 24 hours, we just change. About 200 doctors and 20 nurses sleep here [in Tahrir],” said Mahmoud, one of the physicians staffing the clinic that day. He explained that, although the clashes had stopped, doctors continued to work monitoring and healing wounds and fractures. He estimated that at least 600 injured people passed through the clinics during the first 10 days of the protests. Security, one of the protesters’ main concerns, was also organized spontaneously. After clashes with pro-Mubarak groups in the days after January 28, the people at Tahrir were quick to set up their own alarm system to warn of potential attacks. Ahmed Mahmoud, one of Amr’s neighbors, was one of the security volunteers. “I have a job here. I work as a sentinel at night. If I see something or hear something, I whistle to wake up everyone to come defend the place,” he explains. Mahmoud was sleeping in a tent with 20 other people from his hometown Beni Sueif. All of them were working as sentinels and would replace one another when their shifts were over. Apart from the warning system, checkpoints were set up to control who was coming into the square. Human chains were surrounding the military to give it space from the multitude of protesters. Hundreds of volunteers were searching the incoming crowds and checking IDs at checkpoints, which had separate lines for women and men. Ahmed Abdul Reza was one of the volunteers facilitating traffic through the checkpoint at Kasr El-Nil Bridge. “My nephew passed away in the protests, so I decided that I have to be here and help the people,” said Abdul Reza. “I sometimes work for 24 hours and sometimes less. When I get tired someone comes and takes over.” It was hard to hear him talk because just meters away from us were rows of men singing and playing the tabla. They were also part of the security checkpoint, but their job was to welcome newcomers and encourage the departing to come back. Tahrir’s residents did not go to bed early. They would stroll around the square, start a lively discussion of politics, join a group chanting anti-Mubarak slogans or dance to the tune of Islamic song “Bismallah Allahu Akbar” (In the name of God the Great). Three stages equipped with elaborate sound systems were set up on the square, and throughout the day they would be used to recruit volunteers at checkpoints, announce news updates, stage all kinds of performances or sometimes host celebrities visiting the square. On one of these stages, singer Tamer Hosni fell from grace with the protesters after he pleaded with them to go home, to which they replied by booing him and taking him offstage. A big screen stretched across one of the central buildings at the square was screening Al Jazeera’s live coverage of the square. While some were enjoying Tahrir’s ‘night life,’ others were cleaning up after the crowds. A few volunteer cleaners started sweeping the square. Others were collecting trash from sidewalks and green areas. One of them, Samir, was walking around with a small trash bag urging passers-by to give him trash. He said that every day he would leave his small grocery shop to come and clean the square. “Donate trash to the NDP!” he shouted jokingly. This type of political humor was all over the square. The men’s urinal (which was really just the open space of the construction site in front of the former Nile Hotel) bore the sign “The new headquarters of NDP.” A lot of protesters had put their own humorous genius on posters and were walking proudly with them around the square. “Go away, Mubarak! My wife and family miss me!” said one. Recognizing their own taste for funny slogans and Mubarak jokes, the protesters set up an improvised ‘wall of humor,’ where posters, cartoons and puns were pasted for everyone to see. As the night progressed, more and more people retired to their tents or the sidewalks. I also decided to turn in, but when I went back to my makeshift shelter, I found that it had completely disappeared along with my sleeping bag and purse. I guess at Tahrir there wasn’t a night patrol to make sure people’s belongings were safe. Tahrir residents, however, have set up something even better — a lost and found section. That’s where I headed in the morning after sleeping three hours on the floor at a friend’s place near the square. My bags weren’t there, but I asked the emcee at the nearby stage to announce that I want them back; within an hour they materialized at the lost and found. As I was walking toward the metro, I kept thinking about Tahrir, trying to grasp this strange place so unlike the Egypt I knew before January 25. I later talked to Kamal Fahmy, professor of sociology at the American University in Cairo, who put it simply: “This was something beautiful. The sheer volume of people of different ages, different social classes and this cheerful spirit were quite thrilling.” Fahmy himself was a frequent visitor to Tahrir during the protests. He was similarly impressed with the square’s community: “It was an amazing organization in terms of how well-organized things were. It was amazing in terms of how the team spirit was prevailing. You didn’t see some people giving orders and some people taking orders. It was a spontaneous, collaborative effort.” But for Fahmy, Tahrir was more than a community project or a protest venue. “It became a free, democratic space and really highlighted the readiness of the people for such conditions. Some people said we are not ready for democracy. I think what was going on in Tahrir highlighted how ready we are.”