From Trafalgar to Tahrir

By Rosemary Sabet

In this intriguing memoir, British born Rosemary Sabet moves back and forth between her past as a child growing up in post war London and her present involvement in the Egyptian revolution. The events in Tahrir Square, Cairo, trigger her memory as she questions what quirks of fate brought her to participate in such an unprecedented, momentous uprising.

As we follow the twists and turns and churning uncertainty of Egypts revolution from its outset on January 25th 2011 until the ambivalent celebration one year later the author, fuelled by passion, recounts her personal involvement in the uprising, in which she experienced periods of great fear and disappointment intermingled with moments of courage and triumph.

In a series of anecdotes, the reader is taken on a nostalgic journey of the authors carefree childhood, to her unconventional experiences abroad as a young girl in the fifties. With raw and honest insight, Sabet remembers Londons swinging sixties and reveals some of her wickedly funny amorous escapades. We follow her to Rome during the era of the dolce vita where she eventually meets and marries her Egyptian husband. They move to Southern Yemen where she begins to encounter the cultural challenges so imbued in the Middle East, and from where she is propelled to nearly four decades of Egypts turbulent history.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Mar 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781467890335

Rosemary Sabet

Rosemary Sabet, a freelance writer and blogger and member of the London Writers Club, grew up in London, moved to Rome in 1967 and to Cairo in 1976 where she still lives. She has an MA in Drama and Theatre, travels extensively and speaks five languages.

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© 2012 Rosemary Sabet. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 3/23/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4678-9032-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4678-9033-5 (e)

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Cover design – Khaled Roshdy

CONTENTS

Introduction

My Early Years

An Adventurous Spirit

Travels with My Father

Young Love ‘Independence

The Eternal City

For Better or For Worse

An Interlude

To the Land of the Pharaohs

Into the Wilderness

Trials, Tribulations

and Triumphs

Afterword

About the Author

Introduction

Life is like a game of cards. The hand you are dealt is determinism; the way you play it is free will.

Jawaharlal Nehru

As I sit on a beach on the Sinai coast in the shade of my bamboo hut, with the water gently lapping onto the sand some ten metres away from me, it is easy to forget that I am in Egypt and that the country has been in turmoil for some time now. As I lift my pen and raise my eyes from my notebook, I can see the mountains of Saudi Arabia in front of me and, farther to my left, those same mountains become Jordan. If I walk north, to the end of the beach, I can just see part of Israel. Everything appears superbly tranquil. The water is as still as a lake, its pale, turquoise hue interrupted in places by the darker blue shadows that indicate the presence of coral and, in the near distance, an even darker stretch where the end of the coral reef drops into the deep blue. Behind me, the mountains shimmer in the heat of the afternoon.

A group of olive-skinned Egyptians chatter and laugh with their usual bonhomie whilst a Swiss family babble in their particular brand of German. I can hear the soft sonority of tongues from the South of France and my favourite language, Italian, being mangled by a small bevy from Calabria. Children splash and laugh in the sea, twittering in a variety of languages.

The Egyptians’ olive skins are turning nut brown while some of the Europeans are beginning to turn a painful shade of pink. Some resemble a patchwork quilt with blobs of white interspersed with pink where the factor-50 sun block missed its mark.

As I take a break in this paradisiacal eco-lodge, called Basata, meaning ‘simplicity’, I have a yen to write, and for the first time in decades, I am doing so with pen and paper. Upon my return to ‘civilisation’, I will transfer my scribbles to my computer. I believe the word ‘civilisation’ is something of a misnomer. I cannot think of a more civilised place than that in which I find myself, yet I sleep in a bamboo hut with no electricity, communal toilets and showers, and the evening meal is served and eaten in the main hut where one sits on cushions at low tables, each of which accommodate twelve people.

The seating arrangements are random, and one meets people from all over the world, many of whom, like me, speak two or more languages. Amiable conversation ranges from art to literature to religion and politics amongst multi-cultural groups, and one cannot help but wish that the rest of the world were listening in and learning. However, the prevailing topic at present is the Arab Awakening—more particularly the Egyptian Revolution of 2011 and the country’s fragile future.

As I sit in front of my hut I begin to reflect upon my life and wonder at the twists and turns of fate. Did destiny determine that one day I would become Egyptian and that I would be heavily embroiled in my adoptive country’s politics, or did I unconsciously give fate a helping hand?

I entered the world in the latter years of World War II, too young to remember anything about the war itself but not too young to remember the post-war years of austerity in England. My life would lead me, at some times from a distance and at others from personal experience, through a fascinating if unsettled period in modern history, from the birth of communist China, through the Korean War, the Cold War, the War in Vietnam, civil rights uprisings, political assassinations, civil wars, demonstrations, and riots to the worst economic slump since the Great Depression.

As a young girl, I thought many of the events occurred in unreachable lands, but as travel and communication became more sophisticated and international news became ever more available and eventually live and instantaneous, those lands came closer.

Little did I know that I would experience the Arab Uprising and the Egyptian Revolution, in which I was constantly involved, often with a birds-eye view of the daily events.

Letters from Cairo

Tuesday, 25 January 2011

Today is Police Day, a national holiday in Egypt, and a most surprising incident is unfolding. This nation of usually passive people has suddenly gathered in thousands all over the country to protest against against police brutality, to demand the resignation of the minister of the interior, to ask for the restoration of a fair minimum wage, to demand the end of the emergency law, and to ask for term limits for the president. They are calling this ‘The Day of Revolt’. No one is quite sure what has sparked this event off, but it would appear to have been building up since a young man who was tortured by the police on 5 April 2010 died from his injuries. Youths around the country have been using social media for months to prepare for this day and to encourage as many people as possible to speak out in support of their cause.

I am watching the events from my apartment in Gezira Street in Zamalek, a residential area of Cairo situated on an island surrounded by the River Nile. I can see people walking in what must be prearranged groups and converging from streets all over the city. The day has begun peacefully and, although demonstrations and protests are against the law, the police appear to be showing unusual restraint.

The numbers are increasing by the minute, and what is happening is unprecedented. In the past, there have been only small demonstrations, which the riot police have always been able to control quickly by arresting the demonstrators.

Some of the streets that lead to the centre have been cordoned off as the crowds try to make their way to Cairo’s downtown Tahrir Square to join the main group of protestors. The security police are beginning to beat back protesters with batons as the protestors try to break cordons, but there are now so many of them that the police are outnumbered, and many of the barriers are being pushed back. The crowds in the square are growing by the minute, and there is an increasing feeling of anger that is almost tangible.

It is now late afternoon, and the police and security personnel have changed tactics and are using tear gas and water cannons to disperse the protestors. What is particularly striking is the fearlessness of the people who are standing their ground and retaliating by hurling rocks and dragging metal barricades to defend themselves or attacking the water cannon trucks. Although there have been a few injuries, the police have clearly been taken by surprise and forced back by the sheer size of the crowd. The momentum is continually changing, with the advantage going back and forth between protestors and police as each is pushed back for a short time before the process is reversed. It is a running battle—something I never thought I would witness in Egypt.

While I was aware that these protests would take place, I had no idea that they would take on such enormous proportions. Egyptians have lived in fear of their dictatorial governments for over half a century, but the recent overthrow of the Tunisian government has spurred this usually placid nation to take a stand. Some are even saying that this is the first day of a revolution, but I can’t believe that these unimaginable protests will continue.

Night has fallen, and Tahrir Square is slowly emptying; all is calm again in this great city.

Friday, 28 January 2011

To my surprise, demonstrations have continued daily. Twitter was blocked on Tuesday, and we had only intermittent access to Facebook and Google on Wednesday. Last night there appeared to be a blackout on the Internet, and this morning we are unable to receive or send calls on our mobiles and cannot even send messages. Virtually all communications have been cut except for the landlines, which most of us no longer have. Is the government trying to disrupt communications between groups of protestors or is it laying a blackout curtain across Egypt to mask a total crackdown? It is becoming clear that the government is in desperation mode and is trying to paralyse the protests, but this action is unprecedented in the history of the Internet. I know that countries like China, Iran, Thailand, and Tunisia have cut off access to news websites and social networking services during periods of unrest, but this action puts us in the company of North Korea!

Today there is a much more decisive demonstration –‘The Friday of Anger’. Tens of thousands of protestors have gathered in Tahrir Square, chanting ‘Down with Mubarak!’, It is time for change!’, ‘We want to live in freedom!’ and so on. All seemed peaceful until now, but the despised police force, obviously under instructions from the Ministry of the Interior, have been using water hoses and tear gas on the demonstrators even more forcefully than on Tuesday. Normally, this would have terrified the protestors, but they are standing their ground, and their mood has changed to one of defiance. I am in awe of their bravery and resilience, and the atmosphere and the spirit of the people in the crowd, who are from all walks of life, including the poor and the working classes, families with children, middle and upper middle classes, the intelligentsia, the literate, and the illiterate. There is now a loud, collective chant ‘El shaab yurid escaat el nezam’ (‘The people want the fall of the regime!’)

Thousands of police are on the streets and what looks like hundreds on every street corner, and I have heard that they are also recruiting young men to help quell the protestors. Riot police are standing shoulder to shoulder on the Kasr El Nil Bridge, but the protestors keep pushing them back, despite the fumes from the tear gas, which are overwhelming. One wonders how they can bear it. The tear gas is making even my eyes water as I watch the scenes from some distance across the Nile. It seems ironic that instead of being allowed to exercise their right to assemble and protest peacefully, the demonstrators are meeting with exactly the kind of abuse and repression they are protesting.

A number of fires have been started, and the headquarters of the National Democratic Party, the symbolic seat of Mubarak’s reign, is in flames. Some of the fires are dangerously close to the Cairo Museum, and even though a large collection of objects from Tutankhamun’s tomb are currently on tour across America and are safe, it would be a tragedy if any of Egypt’s beautiful antiquities were harmed. There is now no sign of the police!

It is late afternoon, and suddenly the Egyptian army’s officers and soldiers are shaking hands with the demonstrators, but we are a little suspicious. Although the military are admired, respected, and revered in Egypt, we wonder if they are here to assail or to protect the public. Mubarak was and still is head of the military, but is it possible that he will order the army to attack, and if he does, will they listen to him? It has become impossible to understand the unfolding events, and there is much speculation that the police have been defeated by the protestors, that they have removed their uniforms to join in with the general public, that they have taken flight because of the sheer force of the public, and worst of all, that the minister of the interior has ordered them off the streets in order to create chaos and remove all semblance of law and order.

Meanwhile, Egyptian state media is reporting that a curfew will be imposed starting at 6:00 p.m. tonight until 7:00 a.m. tomorrow, but judging by the huge numbers on the streets, I can see little chance that the police will be able to enforce it.

As afternoon moves to dusk, there is an air of tranquillity in the city, there is no sign of the police, and the army is standing placidly on the outskirts. The demonstrators have ignored the curfew.

We waited all day for Mubarak to appear on our screens to make some sort of statement. At 10:30 p.m., he finally appeared to announce, somewhat haltingly, that tomorrow the government will resign, and a new one will be appointed. He appears to be trying to assure the public that he is working for the people, but he is also hinting that, should he resign, the country will fall into chaos. He is also making vague promises of social reform, but these promises will almost certainly be interpreted as an attempt to cling to power rather than as a genuine promise to solve Egypt’s pressing problems. His long-awaited speech is bitterly disappointing, and his request for stability is cutting little ice with the protesters, who called for him to step down almost before he finished speaking.

This is beginning to look like a full-blown revolution after all!

Saturday, 29 January 2011

After yesterday’s events, we all thought that the worst was over, that our revolution was drawing to a close, and that it would be only a matter of hours before we would hear of the resignation of President Hosni Mubarak. How wrong we were!

Protests are continuing today, and many people have set up tents in Tahrir Square in spite of the continuing curfew. There is increasing evidence of the presence of the military and still no sign of the police. A breakdown in law and order has become obvious. There are reports that prisons have been opened and burned down, allegedly on orders from Habib El Adly, the minister of the interior, and that prisoners have escaped on masse. Is this is an attempt to terrorise the protestors and the public? Prisoners and thugs are marauding in the streets, shop fronts are being smashed, some supermarkets have been burnt down, and a great deal of looting and pillaging is taking place. Many of the shops that had not been looted are now being closed and emptied by their owners.

Mubarak has appointed a new prime minister, Ahmed Shafik, but it has done little to pacify the protestors, as Shafik is a member of the old guard and is alleged to have been a member of the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces!

While the Internet remains blocked, mobile phone service has been partially restored. Although we can make and receive calls, we still cannot send or receive messages, a limitation that seems pointless, as the mass demonstrations are continuing in spite of the forty-eight hour blackout.

The sun has set, and the looting and pillaging continues. We now have news that houses are being broken into. As I look from my window, I see many of my street’s residents standing in front of their buildings alongside the doormen, armed with sticks, kitchen knives, and anything that might serve as a weapon with which to defend their homes and their families. They have set up neighbourhood watches, and my husband has joined them, armed with a walking stick. My heart is in my mouth!

There is a deathly hush all around us as we wait for the worst. Some of the local young men have set up metal blockades and are demanding to see the identity cards of anyone who tries to get through our street, which leads to the rest of Zamalek. Our fear has abated a little, as we have been told that other young men are blocking the bridges and stopping anyone who is not a resident of the area from reaching the island.

There is a great sense of community here and, apparently, in many other areas of Cairo, but there is also a great sense of fear.

Sunday, 30 January 2011

After a restless night, we woke to discover that crowds are once again amassing in Tahrir Square and that many of the protestors spent the night there again. Other members of the community are supplying them with food and water, and there is a palpable sense of coming together as a nation. Again, there is no sign of the police, and the army tanks remain passively present. Our president is due to make another appearance on television and there is some hope that he will be wise enough to realise that he has no option but to step down, especially in view of the previous violence, which we now strongly believe was instigated by his regime.

I have had first-hand accounts from my housekeeper and my driver, both of whom live in Imbaba, one of the poorer quarters of Cairo. They report that there are many marauders and thugs in that area and that families are living in great fear. The men, who have not slept for several nights, have gathered in the streets where they have built fires to keep themselves warm while they protect their wives and children. They have built mud brick ovens on the roofs of their buildings in order to make bread, which is now in short supply. In fact, they have organised a defence system: they are armed with guns, sticks and walkie-talkies, and those who do not belong to the same street or area cannot get past their barricades. Neighbourhoods in Cairo are tight-knit, and because few people ever move, the ties are long, complex, and meaningful. The residents help each other by lending money, trading goods and services, arbitrating fights and quarrels, and spreading news, the last of which enables word to travel fast and efficiently.

Food is now running short, the banks remain closed, and the cash machines are empty. All lines of communication have been reconnected, but the telephone lines are jammed as families call friends and relatives to assure them of their safety.

It is 2:00 p.m., and fighter jets have begun to fly extremely low over the centre of Cairo, particularly Tahrir Square. In Zamalek, the sound is deafening; my windows are shaking and a pane of glass has shattered. There is a feeling of panic amongst the residents of my building as the jets fly lower and lower. Are the planes here just to put the fear of God into the demonstrators in the square, or has Hosni Mubarak given instructions to the air force to bomb the protestors? Despite their fear, the Egyptian people are determined in their fight for freedom and democracy, and the planes that fly over Tahrir Square are greeted by defiant jeers from the throngs.

This appears to be a pivotal moment in the revolution!

Monday, 31 January 2011

Today, I finally found the courage to go to the centre of Cairo with my husband. We made our way on foot to Tahrir Square with the intention of visiting a friend who owns one of the buildings in the square. I purchased a flag to show my support for the revolution, and we moved inch by inch through the crush of people. We were unable to walk in a straight line and had to let ourselves be carried forward, sideways, back, and forward again by the crowd. I felt euphoric and excited to be involved in this remarkable revolution.

We finally reached our destination, and after identifying ourselves made our way to the top floor of the building. The view of the crowds from