“I won’t.” I hugged him tightly.
I got a taxi to the airport, found a working cash machine, withdrew some money, and headed to Tahrir. The streets were empty. I felt a sudden twinge of fear. There was fear on the faces of the few people I saw. The long main road leading from the airport to Tahrir was almost empty except for the tanks and armored vehicles. They moved heavily through the city’s streets and looked kind of ridiculous. It was an unfamiliar sight, and made me think of Chile during military rule. Not that I’d ever been to Chile, but I had seen pictures in history books. The taxi driver was nervous and kept murmuring to himself. “What are you going to Tahrir for?” he asked me. The question made me suspicious. He might be resentful of what was happening and take it out on me. So I replied, “I’m not going to Tahrir. I’m visiting a friend who lives near there.”
“This is no time for visits,” he said. “Haven’t you seen what’s happening? There are thugs all over the place. And you’re a girl. You have no idea what we see on the road. You must be careful.”
“God protect us,” I whispered.
I got off at Qasr al-Nil Bridge. There was a big checkpoint at the entrance to the square—about fifteen young men and women checking IDs and searching people, with friendly but firm smiles. I let one of the women pat over my clothes, look inside my handbag, and peer into my face. I smiled, and she gave me the victory sign and said, “May God be with us.” I nodded to her in approval and walked into the square.
I searched impatiently for Rima. On the first day I had seen her run to escape the tear gas, her long curly hair flying behind her as she leaped along the sidewalk, moving swiftly to avoid the tear gas canisters and rocks. I finally found her; her hair was a mess and her eyes were shining with enthusiasm. She hugged me. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.”
I replied calmly, “I only just got here. Baba is at my apartment, so I cooked for him, went to withdraw some cash, and came straight here.”
“Come. Let’s go sit over there for a while.”
I walked beside her back to the entrance of the square, and we sat on the sidewalk. Months later, during the summer sit-in, the sidewalk would become our sanctuary. From this same spot we watched dozens of sunrises and sunsets. That day we sat in silence for a few minutes. I knew her pain. She’d always been a natural optimist. When she walked, it was as if she were flying. She exuded freedom, oscillated between joy and confusion, wrote down what she felt. All my memories from the square have Rima in them. We sat on that sidewalk and on countless others. I watched the square around me and started counting the faces. I gave up after a hundred.
“What’s going on?” I asked Rima.
“I don’t know.” She sounded tired.
Every now and then the chants would pick up. There were dozens of street sellers. I noticed a wooden table on which woolen socks were laid out. I laughed. “Why is this man selling socks?” Rima replied seriously: “For the people camping here, Nadia. They can’t all stay without changing their socks. The smell would end the sit-in!”
Armored vehicles and tanks blocked all the entrances. No one bothered us. The soldiers tried as much as possible to avoid friction. Some of the guys would pick up conversations with them, offering them cigarettes and bottles of cold water. Rima and I got up and went to a nearby bakery and bought a few dozen loaves of bread. At the store next to it, we got a box of water and some small cartons of juice. Some passersby offered to help us carry the bags, and we stood at the side of the square and started to give the stuff away. Within minutes the bags were emptied.
“What I would do for a Merit cigarette,” I sighed to Rima.
She eyed me coldly. “Just smoke what we have, Nadia. This is not the time to be spoiled and demand imported cigarettes.”
“I’m just saying,” I said in irritation.
She pulled me off to go and find Layla and Galal.
The square was calm. Nothing signaled violence or clashes. The four of us gathered at the edge. Galal was disheveled, his shirt discolored by dirt. Layla was tense. We all talked over each other, trying to ascertain that everyone was OK.
I took Galal by the hand and told him nervously, “You know, of course, that you shouldn’t leave the square. There are so many rumors flying about outside, and they’ve been arresting people on their way out.”
He smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Nadia, I know. I’m not leaving any time soon. Let’s just wait and see what happens.”
As I looked at him, fear flooded my heart. I tried to appear calm, and at times felt that I was overreacting. Layla was nervous too, but she wasn’t emitting as much negative energy as I was. Galal laughed and said, “We need to find some Valium for Nadia. What’s the worst that could happen? So, they might arrest us. They might bomb the whole square. There’s no way of knowing, but being anxious won’t change anything.”
“Weren’t you just five days ago telling me that nothing at all would happen? ‘It’s just a demonstration, Nadia. Don’t get your hopes up.’”
“You say that as if I or anyone could have predicted all these people turning up.” He was visibly moved. I touched his shoulder.
I couldn’t stop thinking about my father. I didn’t want to leave him alone for too long. I would go to see him and maybe come back when he went to bed. I said good-bye to everyone and hugged Galal tightly. They all laughed and called me overdramatic, so I swore at them and took off.
