Mabruk, Ya Misr! (or Congratulations, Egypt!)

On Friday February 11, 2011, President Hosni Mubarak stepped down from the position of head of state that he had held for thirty years. Jubilation spread through the entire Middle East and fireworks illuminated the sky over the region. In Jordan, traffic came to a stand still as people poured onto the streets to celebrate. The joy was indescribable. The night before, when Mubarak had made his speech and NOT stepped down after a day of building up to it, I was glad for the first time since I left that I wasn’t in Egypt. I was scared. I was scared for the people, scared for the country, scared for the movement. I was anticipating a breaking point, an unleashing of pent up anger and aggression in the form of violence. But the Egyptian people again rose above what would have been both understandable and also disastrous. Over and over, they exceeded every expectation I, and the world, had of them. Now there is no place in the world I would rather be than right in the center of Cairo.

When I arrived in Egypt in September 2010, just before the parliamentary elections (if you can call it an election) were held, I asked everybody I met, young and old, if they were going to vote. Almost without fail, they answered no. Their reasoning was always the same: “What’s the point? It won’t make a difference. There is nothing we can do to change things.” I can’t tell you how many times I heard these statements, and similar sentiments, coming from people’s mouths. While no one would hesitate to tell you that Mubarak was a dictator, a terrible man, hated by the people, swimming in a sea of corruption, no one seemed to feel capable of, or responsible for, change. They also all seemed completely resigned to the fact that Hosni’s son, Gamal, would take over when his father retired. I can tell you with complete honesty that I heard a lot of frustration, but nothing to indicate that a people’s revolution was months away.

It is different here in Jordan. People are still scared to criticize the royal family. Anyone you ask will tell you that the King and Queen are loved by all. It is only in closed circles and hushed whispers that dissent is spoken here. But on Saturday, after the news of Mubarak’s departure had spread far and wide, I came into the living room of my host family’s house and sat next to my host mom. She was holding Fadi, the baby, on her lap, bouncing him and cooing. He is such a beautiful baby, with huge brown eyes framed by long dark lashes, thick, curly black hair, chubby, rosy cheeks, and an almost perpetual smile. As we sat with the cheering crowds in Tehrir on the TV as a backdrop, Rowah (my host mom) stared intently at her baby boy and told me how she hoped he would grow up and lead a revolution. She told me how she knew already that he was charismatic (“like Obama!” she said) and that she wanted him to grow up to lead a movement like the one in Egypt. Hearing her speak this way made me realize that even if the monarchy doesn’t fall today, the seeds of change have been sown. What the Tunisians and Egyptians have done, beyond just ousting oppressive dictators, is inspire people everywhere to question the status quo.

Everyone is speculating about what is next for Egypt. I have read over and over that the concern is that the now-ruling army will try to implement a Mubarak-style government, just without Mubarak. And that may indeed happen. But I think it is important not to underestimate the Egyptian people. Mubarak, America, other Arab countries, even myself, did that for too long. And now they have tasted freedom. It is on their tongues, at their fingertips, in their hearts. I don’t claim to know what is coming next for the country known as the Mother of the World. But I do know that I will never again doubt the power of its people. And neither should the military.