28
Communication networks were finally back after a five-day shutdown. Networks were reopened following a cheap, emotionally manipulative presidential speech. Not everyone was manipulated, though. Immediately after the speech, the square exploded with anger and resentment, tinged with ridicule. The square was powered by an innate honesty that filtered out lies from facts. Leaving the square exposed you to frustration and despair. I sometimes felt that it fell beyond the realms of geography and history, even as it was closely bound to both. It was like a fictional chronotope in Bakhtin’s sense: a standalone whole that, while influencing external events, is hardly affected by them.
When I listened to the presidential statement with Rima, Galal, and Layla from within the square, we felt nothing but anger. When I remember our reactions now, they appear to me almost exaggerated. Rima and I screamed, “All they do is lie! How could anyone believe this son of a bitch? They want to trick us!” After the statement, I decided to go home, where my father was waiting. I needed a hot shower and a few hours’ sleep on my comfy sofa. I was utterly exhausted and had to rest. As soon as it was morning, I kissed Rima and Layla and Galal, and raced home.
My father received me with his usual enthusiasm. “Phones are back. Is yours working?”
“Yes, probably. I just need to charge it.”
“What brought you home?” he asked apprehensively.
“Do you not want me back?” I joked.
“Looks like you got bored.”
“Come on, Baba. I’m just tired and need a shower and some rest. I’ll sleep for a couple of hours, then go back. Come with me if you want. I think it’s safe.”
I took all my clothes off and stuck them in the washing machine. I stood under the hot water and watched it turn black as it poured off me. There were layers of dirt on my body, and possibly insects too, as I found small bites in various places. It was perhaps the longest shower I’d ever had. I came out of the bathroom to find my father sitting in front of the TV. He seemed worried.
“Don’t wake me up at all for at least three hours, OK? I really need a good sleep. Don’t wake me up unless there’s a disaster.”
“I don’t see how you’ll manage to sleep.”
“I’ll manage, Baba. I’m callous like that. And if I don’t sleep now, I won’t be able to go back.”
I almost passed out. Less than an hour later I was shaken awake.
“Nadia, Nadia! Wake up and see what’s happening!”
Still in a sleepy trance, I said, “Baba, have mercy! Didn’t I tell you to not wake me up?”
“Get up! There is a disaster happening as we speak. Come see what’s on the TV.”
I opened my eyes to an absurd scene on TV. For a few seconds I thought it was part of a dream, or rather a nightmare: a handful of camels and horses galloping through the square, while protestors tried to stop them from advancing. The riders pushed the animals on to run over protestors. There was a lot of screaming and blood.
“Who are they?” I yelled. “And how did they get into the square? Isn’t the army guarding the entrances?”
My father answered bitterly: “What army? It’s a conspiracy. The military tanks let them pass. It will turn into a massacre.”
I started talking to myself, searching for my mobile phone. “Shit, shit, shit! Camels and horses? Has it come to that? What is this, the Middle Ages? They’re attacking us with camels and horses, the sons of bitches!”
When I finally found my phone, I anxiously called Galal, who answered after the fourth ring. His voice was calm, but in the background I heard a fearful noise that sounded like drums, or banging on metal.
“Hi, Nadia. I’m fine, don’t worry.”
“What do you mean, fine? Don’t lie to me! What’s going on? Is anyone hurt?”
“No, my love, I’m telling you I’m fine. And Rima and Layla are fine too.”
“OK, I’ll get dressed and come over.”
He replied hastily, “No, don’t come now. Wait until things calm down. It’s not safe now.
“I’m coming,” I said sharply. “I’ll call you when I’m on the way. Keep your phone on. What’s that noise?”
“We’re banging on the metal fences. To scare them away. So they’ll think there are more of us.”
I asked him to take care of himself and ended the call. To myself I murmured, “Don’t die, Galal. Please don’t die.” I got dressed in a hurry and heard my father say, “Wait for an hour until things calm down. You won’t be able to enter the square now at all.”
I sat beside him in front of the TV. There were dozens, or perhaps hundreds, of people standing around the entrances and throwing rocks at the protestors on the other side. The military tanks were in the middle. There were almost no officers or soldiers to be seen. They hid inside their tanks and didn’t interfere at all. With unbelievable callousness, they were letting a massacre happen before their eyes. The battle was getting ugly. The protestors managed to control the animals. At the same time, some of the thugs climbed to the tops of the buildings that surrounded the square and started to throw Molotov cocktails and firebombs down. All the while, the battle with rocks was continuing on the peripheries. Dozens of people were injured. TV channels transmitted what was happening live.
I heard my father’s
