"Nobody is going out and that is final!” my father yelled. I went running to my room. I stood by the open window to hear the voices of the strong, angry people in the streets nearby. Tears started running freely on my face instead of me running free on the streets. The door slowly opened and my brother entered to wipe away my tears, telling me that the next day we would be there joining those people. It was the first day of the great revolution.

The next morning, immediately after my father went out to work, I rushed to my brother's room to wake him up.

My father worked as an office employer at a government agency and had to work another part-time job to make ends meet. We lived a simple life, we didn’t have any fancy needs, still his income was never enough for our daily expenses.

Ali, my 17 year old brother, was a strong young man who was painfully aware of his human rights in a country where human rights had little value.

My mother has been working as a school teacher for 20 years - a woman with a lost soul reflected in her eyes. She obviously felt unfulfilled in her career, romance in her life had long gone, and she knew all her children wanted to go abroad to look for a better life. She waved goodbye through the window as we left. There seemed to be tears in her eyes - as if she knew where we were going but couldn't ask for the truth as she was afraid to hear it. I caught my brother's hand and smiled broadly.

Mixed Feelings

I felt a shiver run through my body when my feet touched the ground of Tahrir Square for the first time. I couldn’t help crying when I heard rising voices from the crowd, asking for freedom. I began to walk and shout with the protesters, "We want freedom! Egypt! Egypt! Raise your voice! Don't be afraid!" Ali held hands with other men and formed a huge circle to keep the women safe from the policemen. We kept smiling at each other with mixed feelings of happiness, surprise, power and steadfastness. We felt no fear at all. But it was only within minutes when gunshots were heard in the air and the policemen started hitting us with their batons, not caring who got injured. Screaming women and running feet were all I could see. I saw blood on clothes and people falling to the ground. Ali suddenly grabbed my arm and told me: "If we lose each other in the crowd, don't wait for me; just be safe and go home. And if I don't return, then ask God for us to meet again.” I just kept looking at him. I was stunned. I didn’t understand what was going on.

In a second, he dissolved into the crowd. I started running until I heard a voice call for me. I looked and found Ali caught by two men from the secret police wearing plain clothes. They held his arms as they took him to a small van. I paused, that was all I could do. Only God knows where they were going to take Ali and I didn't know what to do. I kept screaming: "Ali! Ali!" but the van disappeared and I was suddenly all alone.

Blood and dirt were mixed with my tears.

Confused, I kept looking everywhere in the crowd for Ali, even when I knew he had been taken somewhere else. I didn’t know how to tell my parents but I knew I had to do it. There was no transportation and I couldn’t make a phone call. All communication lines were cut off. I had to walk all the way home with a horrible feeling of confusion and despair.

When I arrived home, my mother hugged me tightly. She tried to calm me down and asked me to explain what was going on. I told her Ali was caught. A moment of heavy silence fell over the house. My father, who in the beginning looked at me with angry eyes, came nearer and suddenly hugged me.

After a few hours, I decided to face my father and tell him that I was returning to the square to join the protest. I felt no fear anymore. Ali was caught and I couldn’t think of a way to find him. My plan was to go and stand in front of the police station, protesting until they would tell me where my brother was and whether he was alive or dead. My mother quickly told me: "I'm coming with you. He is my son and I will do whatever it takes to free him and free this country." Then, she turned to face my father and told him: "I’ve stayed silent for 30 years. I was silent because I was afraid of you too. After all these years, I feel I am no longer alive. Now it is time to bring my life back."

As my mother and I left the room, my father called out to us. To our surprise, he said he was coming with us. We walked out of the house, holding hands, marching like soldiers, shouting and calling for freedom. My father, who spent 25 years of his life in fear of the whole system, was finally out of his cage. This wasn't just about my brother Ali. This was about 80 million human beings lost in darkness and fear. But this was the moment of light, the birth of a new life. Fighting bullets and wooden sticks wasn't as painful as losing your dignity. Freedom was worth so much more.

And we were willing to give so much more.

Further Reading
1.  Wikipedia article on the 2011 Egyptian Revolution