Tahrir Square has been transformed by battle with rubbish lying in drifts and paving tiles strategically placed, writes MICHAEL JANSEN
THE DEFENDERS of Tahrir Square were reinforced and resupplied with food and water yesterday after standing their ground on Wednesday night during a prolonged assault by armed elements loyal to the president, Hosni Mubarak.
Walking from Qasr al-Nil bridge toward the barricaded entrance to the square, my colleague and I met a stream of men with bandaged noses and heads.
Thirteen died and 1,200 were injured during the frontal assault by plainclothes police wielding truncheons and hurling petrol bombs, compelling protesters to retreat from the museum area. But by mid-morning, they had retaken lost ground and expanded the perimeter, recapturing the politico-paramilitary initiative.
Two well-dressed women told us they had just come from the square.
“We bring food every day,” stated the older woman, a retired civil servant. The other, a management consultant was delighted with the countrywide protests.
“It’s the first time in my life I see Egyptians standing up to the regime and I’m 58.” Both were shocked by the overnight onslaught.
“An officer told us the army was ordered not to intervene. But he said the soldiers will not shoot at protesters. ‘If we are ordered to shoot, we will join them’.”
The scene had been transformed by battle. Uncollected rubbish lay in drifts on the ground. Piles of broken pink and grey paving tiles had been strategically placed near entrances. Sentries beat a tattoo on metal lamp posts whenever the regime’s toughs approached, sending men armed with lengths of blue aluminium pipe running toward the barricades.
Hisham Sabra, an engineer, said, “We want freedom and social justice. [The regime] tells [the attackers] we are terrorists from Iran, Pakistan and Iraq. They are paid.”
He said the burned-out headquarters of the ruling party would, one day, be a museum celebrating the battle for Tahrir Square.
On the far side of the square, we met Mohamed Aboulghar, a leading member of the reform movement founded by Nobel laureate Mohamed ElBaradei. Aboulghar said those responsible for the violence would be put on trial, including wealthy businessmen who paid for the horses and camels ridden into the square by attackers. “We have all the documents needed for prosecutions,” he asserted.
“We have their identity cards and photos. ElBaradei is part of the leadership but not a leader. If he had returned to Egypt last year and led our movement, he would be president of Egypt by now.”
A member until yesterday of the 14-member committee appointed to negotiate with the government, Aboulghar said he stood down because each faction was meant to have only one representative.
The people in the square “refuse to talk to anybody [in the regime] until Mubarak leaves,” he said, contradicting claims by prime minister Ahmad Shafiq that negotiations with the demonstrators are proceeding.
Aboulghar denied that the opposition was leaderless and without a plan, “Once Mubarak resigns, vice-president Omar Suleiman could take his place during the transition along with two trusted judges and a senior army man.
“We want a free press, a new constitution, parliamentary elections based on the proportional system, real political parties . . . I have been demonstrating in this square for 30 years, I have been beaten and my [newspaper] articles [critical of the regime] have not been published . . . Now I’m optimistic.”
Our interview at an office outside the square was punctuated by bursts of machine-gun fire when the army attempted to prevent further attacks by Mubarak loyalists. In the street, we were stopped by menacing men demanding cameras. My colleague flashed her German passport and said she was going to her embassy.
She pushed her small camera deep into her bag and took out her tape recorder, which they intended to confiscate until a slender young Egyptian intervened and freed us from their clutches.
“Come, quickly, don’t speak,” he said as he led us past more inquisitive men demanding identity documents. He hurried us into a battered taxi, delivered us to the relative safety of the Zamalek diplomatic quarter and negotiated the fare with the driver.
“I’m Hassan,” our kindly kidnapper said as he escorted us across busy 26th July Street and waved goodbye. Other journalists have not been as lucky as we: they have been hauled into army posts and had their passports and equipment seized.