Living Through the Egyptian Revolution: Part 4

BingoTheAwesome, this is one of the most powerful and inspiring posts we've ever read. We're so honored that you shared it with us!—Sparkitors

So here's the thing. For the past few blogs—from the very beginning, actually—I've been trying to relay the events in Egypt from a social perspective, not political one. What I've been doing is simply narrating the events from my point of view, trying to avoid explaining too much about our government. But today I'm going to tell you a little bit about what prompted this revolution. I've tried to be amusing, in my own way, in my previous posts, but in the end this isn't a funny subject. Today I'm going to tell you about the Million March. I'm going to tell what prompted over two million Egyptian people to gather together for a single purpose: a better life.

Our president, Hosni Mubarak, isn't a tyrant. When he first came into power, a lot of people actually liked him. But as time went on, he became exceedingly powerful, and I suppose power corrupts. I think our parents' generation was too numb to do anything; basically, they'd grown used to his behavior and they didn't think it would change anytime soon. Thanks to the Emergency Law that Mubarak instated, he had the ability to imprison anyone who spoke against him or who was considered a threat, and they could be thrown in jail without a trial. People would just disappear, and some of them were never heard from again.

Mubarak has run our country for thirty years, and even though he's 82, he wanted to run for president again. The plan was that after he died, his son would take power, and then instead of being a republic we'd have a monarchy of sorts—we wouldn't have the option of electing our rulers. When Mubarak announced he was running again, people felt as though they were going to be stuck in this rut forever; a rut of devastating unemployment rates, horrible pollution and traffic, police brutality, and a corrupt police department.

And the government was the worst. The Minister in charge of housing would give out villas to all his friends while half the country was living on the street. I mean, just take Mubarak's own fortune as an example: he earns 40 to 70 billion dollars just for himself—and for what? For being president? He doesn't exactly have a job that should pay that much, and he certainly didn't work for it. There are officially over 24 million people who live on less than two dollars a day. They're starving. What does he do about it? Nothing. And the worst part is that he stops people who DO want to do something about it. Hundreds of people have tried to start projects that would increase the standard of life in Egypt, and they've all been stopped by the government.

And then there's our media censorship. The entire world was watching Egypt riot—and it wasn't showing on our local channels. On Friday morning, they were showing cartoons and cooking shows. It's a bleeding joke.

And of course, don't get me started on education. Most of the rich people and politicians send their kids to be educated abroad because our educational system is so mediocre. In fact, most of our successful Nobel prize winners (ElBaradei, Ahmed Ziwail) have been educated abroad. Ahmed Ziwail was actually banned from working here at the time. Our examiners have been known to come in and read the answers to tests aloud, making fair scoring impossible.

And the worst part is that economically, Egypt is fine. We have the resources to be the richest country in the world if we want to. Egyptians are, as it turns out, very good people with good brains. We have the Nile, we have agriculture, we have cotton, we have oil, we have tourism, we have the Suez canal. But Hosni Mubarak refused to let our economic standards improve the living standard in Egypt. He preferred to let his population of over 85 million just starve, while he himself gathered a nice tidy fortune.

That said, it should be mentioned that he has done some good things. He's kept us at peace for thirty years. He was a skilled fighter pilot. He made a couple of investments in the country. And above all, he's a senior citizen. No matter how much we hate him, common curtsey demands that we respect that, at the very least. Even though he's responsible for so many things, it is true that insulting him and calling him names is disrespectful. I think, as people who have proven their worth so wonderfully over the past week, we should be above that. But can I blame those who are angry enough to holler insults at him? No.

I tell myself that maybe he didn't know what was going on. Maybe it was his ministers who (the poorest of whom is worth 8 billion pounds) misled him into thinking the people weren't suffering. Maybe he was simply surrounded by a corrupt cabinet. But the people who came out on Tuesday for the Million March, those who united their voices for a common cause, they wanted more. They wanted better. They wanted a system that didn't give so much power to one person. They wanted that one person to be someone they had truly elected, someone who wasn't cunning or ignorant or deceitful. Watching these people come together peacefully, with wisdom beyond their years and bravery that defies expectations, is wonderful. It's awe-inspiring. It has brought people to tears, and instilled more hope in Egypt's citizens than they've had in years.

People have died over the course of this revolution. On Friday, well over 200 people were killed. Some of these people were no different than you or me. They were educated. They were fluent in both English and Arabic. They had plans for a future, and they had absolutely no need to be there. They were kids whose funeral pictures were taken off a Facebook account that would never be used again. These people—they are heroes. If we're going to take an example of the Egyptian people, think of them. Think of them, and think of people like them. The poor people who are sweeping the streets now even though they have nothing to gain from it, the rich who have thought of the poor, the Muslims who protected the churches during the attacks, the Christians who protected the Muslims during prayer.

Me, I've done nothing over the course of this revolution except support them mentally. I couldn't go on Tuesday—neither my parents nor the army allowed that, between rules and roadblocks. So even though I appreciate your kind words, I have to say I don't really deserve any encouragement or praise. I've been so much safer than other people where I live. I haven't been brave. I haven't spent countless nights in Midan ElTahrir, much as I'd wanted to. I haven't gone to the demonstrations. I haven't fought or bled or lost anyone I loved (thank God). The best thing I've done, really, is just relay this to other people. And that's the best I can hope for. So before, I talked to you about living through the revolution. Today I told you about the revolution itself. About what it's about.

It's about loving your country. It's about wanting a better future, and a better life. We want freedom of speech. We want freedom of choice, to choose the leader of our own country. We want our people to be proud to be Egyptian. We want people to stop immigrating to other countries because they've only met despair and defeat in this one. We all want different things, and yet, we all want the same result: a change of regime. Because the corruption has affected all of us. Some people just want to eat. Some people want a job. I want to live in a country where people won't steal my dog because he's worth more than they could earn in two months.

Today is an entire week later than the Tuesday I'm writing about. But no matter how this turns out—because even at this point, we don't know how it'll turn out—it was worth it. The people that died, the nights we spent in chaos and panic, the outrage and the disbelief—it was all worth it. I hope everyone realizes that. I hope people will look back and wonder why it took us thirty years. And I hope I enlightened you all about the Egyptian people, and our revolution.

This is one of the best, and most meaningful, series we've ever published. Bingo, thank you so much for having the courage to share your country's experience with us!

Related post: Living Through the Egyptian Revolution, Parts 1-3