Between the last days of January and the first half of of February.

That was when God wanted it to be.

There were gun shots everywhere. We didn’t know whether they were rubber bullets or real ones. They only passed near our ears, near our faces. They hit some of us and we bled. But no one cried. No one feared. The time of fear was over now. We’ve shed all our tears in the past - in those days of shame. But those days of shame are dead now. This time, God wanted us to make it, make the days of glory. And we won’t let go of this chance.

Suddenly, I couldn’t see.

Not to worry. They were just gas bombs. These white clouds are not like the ones in your childhood dreams. They are the most annoying nightmare. They feel like an ugly spirit. A force trying to remove your skin off your face. You wish you could stop breathing to prevent this damn smoke from entering your lungs.

Your young, poor lungs. They only want to breathe a small amount of air...but not that old air you used to breathe. It wants new air. The air of freedom. The air of honor.

At this moment, I was with my friend, Maher. We were in the middle of a sideway street  branched from the Azhar street. We moved from El Abbasia square after attending the Gomaa prayer in the Mosque. We were trying to reach El Tahrir square with the other protesters.

I started the day with Maher, Omar, Kareem and Mahmoud. Now it was just Maher and I. We couldn’t reach the others. All forms of communication were cut on this day.

Together, Maher and I continued walking with the other protesters. We were only between 300 and 500 in number. It’s important to mention that when we were still walking on Azhar street coming from El Abbasia, we were still a massive 150,000-200,000 people.

Maher and I were on that narrow street with hundreds of protesters. We were young and old , boys and girls, men and women, rich and poor. We were Muslims and Christians, educated and uneducated. We were all fighting with our hearts and our bare hands. Our guns were made of dreams filled with bullets of hope against the devil. His forces were armed with bombs and bullets. But the devil is weak. The right is strong. God is right.

I searched for my friends. Where is Mahmoud ? Where is Omar and Kareem ? And where are the thousands of protesters who came with us from Abbasia ?

As I mentioned before, we couldn’t call each other because the police forces had cut all communications. No phone network, no Internet, no SMS. There was no mercy.

We were disappointed. We felt we were all alone. The game was over and we lost. The others had left us facing all this. They had run away. What if they thought that we ran away also? Then they would be wrong too. No one could abandon their dream that easily. We all dreamed...dreamed for a better country, for some justice, for some freedom. We dreamed for our rights, for all the thing that humans need for life. If we aren’t able to get them, then death will be better.

We found ourselves lesser in number, but we continued moving in that street. We had to make our way to El Tahrir square. People were screaming at the top of their lungs, “People want to remove Mubarak’s regime! Down, down Hosni Mubarak!”

I saw young boys and girls scream their hearts out to remove this ugly regime - never hesitating and never thinking for a second to return home and say, “Enough of this!”

None of these young ones told their parents that they would be participating in this revolution. What for? Their parents and the rest of their families were with them!

Suddenly, we found the police blocking the the street in front of us. Some of them also came up from behind us. But even if we had no weapons, we felt that we were stronger. The answer was God. God was there. God was near.

A few seconds later, they attacked us with their bombs and their gun shots. We felt so much unexplained hatred.

Our plan was to keep running back every time they fired shots. After that, we will go forward again. They shoot, we retreat. And then we will go forward again. Back and forth until their bombs and bullets run out.

The police were getting ready to shoot again and I was getting ready to run when suddenly...

“Mohsen!”

I turned around to see who was calling me.

It was Maher.

“Mohsen! Don’t leave me!”

He was on the ground, with red eyes and a congested nose and face.

My overweight friend was out of energy. After all that long walking and the massive gas bomb attacks, he just couldn’t go any further.

I stopped and looked at him, not knowing what to do. Another gas bomb had been set off nearby, making my chest feel tighter and tighter.

“What can I possibly do for him in this situation?” I asked myself. I couldn’t prevent the gas from entering his nose. I couldn’t make the police stop throwing bombs. To make things worse, the police started shooting rubber bullets at us. Going to his side will not prevent anything.

But I couldn't leave. I couldn't. I felt at this moment that God was with us because we felt no fear at all.

I still stood frozen in my place, looking at my poor friend when they started firing their guns.

“Mohsen, take cover!” My friend shouted at me as he placed his body behind a column that carried a bridge above our heads.

I quickly moved to his side with my back against the column. I couldn’t say anything, but I thought about everything - about Egypt, my future, my family, this street, other protesters and my friends whom I couldn’t find in this mess.

Looking back, those moments felt like a movie. It felt like it had happened to someone else in another life.

In the end, we did it. No one can win a fight against God and we had God on our side. With our bare hands and young hearts, with minds full of vitality and ambitions, God made us win. None of us ever dreamed that this day would come. No one knows how it was done. It just happened.

God wanted it and so He made it happen. 

Further Reading
1.  Wikipedia article on the 2011 Egyptian Revolution