last night was endless. There is not a single stone-thrower on the barracks who is not injured, and at three they started shooting full rounds of live ammunition aiming at chests and heads. Everybody is exausted, exausted, exausted – but hey, eight in the morning and Tahrir is still resisting.
“we can’t let injured into ambulances”,a doctor explains,”cause hospitals will send them to the police. Yes, if they break in, all these people will end up in jail. And us doctors too”. outside the operation-emergency-waiting hall set up by volunteers, a kid tells us once again that another hour, and more protesters will be coming to help us. It’s the thousandth time we’ve heard this story. When are they coming, when
there are lots of other things to say but i’m running out of words and we have an injured friend to take care of (hospital too dangerous, and emergency camp of Tahrir too busy with shot protesters). Personally, I’m praying that everybody will come down to Tahrir as soon as possible. (dah-ha-ha, a praying atheist)
one day i will re-read these statuses and i will laugh about how incoherent and chaotic they are. sorry. blame it on Mubarak keeping Tahrir awake all night
One last thing, these people are umbelievable. We were expecting Mubarak’s militias to massacre us any minute yesterday;protesters fought for Tahrir all night. We were supposed to get the final attack at dawn;at 5.50 this morning the Museum road hasbeen conquered and snipers arrested one by one. Fighters took me to the new barrack: they are at the Octiober bridge now! all this with some stones, and hyper-lion’s hearts.
“Give them another day, and they will conquer the highway to Alexandria” we laugh around N.’s bed (our injured friend). Tears start running down her cheeks. “You know”, she says, “all our school years we heard about massacres, and genocides, and these stories. But I would have never expected to witness one. Yesterday it was a genocide against us. I tell, you, a genocide”.