Shen Chifeng As our bus turned left, two tanks and about 200 people caught my eye. Some soldiers with guns stood on the tanks. I heard men shouting loudly and saw people raising their fists. Our guide looked embarrassed. He muttered something to the driver and our bus changed direction. But this was Cairo; the traffic lights didn’t change and cars sometimes remained in the same spot for hours. “What’s going on?” I asked, excited but also afraid. The tanks and guns were so real that I could not help imagining the sheer damage they could cause. “The radio said they are judging the soldiers,” our guide answered. “The army shot some citizens, and now people are asking whether the soldiers are guilty.” “In the street?” I asked. “Yes. People desire equality and democracy more than ever. So when these things happen, people react particularly strongly.” Gradually the shouting faded as our bus drove slowly away. On my left-hand side, the Nile River was tranquil and beautiful. On my right-hand side, children were smiling, with their teeth gleamed in the blazing sunshine. Women with yashmak were shopping around the street. Life went on. And yet I knew that just 500 meters away, there were people fighting for their rights, justice and freedom. A strange feeling came to me. It was like standing on the curve which divides the black from the white in tai chi. The difference was startling, yet still the opposing parts fitted together in a perfect circle. In the daytime, protestors fought for citizenship, revolution and the freedom to pursue a new life. However when dusk came, babies slept tight, and families sat together and waited for another morning. |