Saturday, 5th February 2010.
It is cold, the sky is a dull grey and the air is wet with the memory of a faint drizzle. There is a small crowd passing by with banners of a ‘Mubarak Out’, ‘Yes We Can’, ‘Peace’, ‘Stop the Violence’ … I ignore it once, I ignore it twice as my friend and I find our way to my favorite haunt in DC to savor a warm cup of tea. Part of me is miffed at the tiny fraction of DC’s citizenry that is out on the street in support of Egypt and part of me is acutely aware of my hypocrisy as I let them pass me by, focused on my own comforts of daily life – such as warm tea on a cold day.
Unfortunately, the tea shop is nowhere to be seen, and we find ourselves in front of the White House a few meters away from the protestors. We walk gingerly towards the crowd – a 100 people at the most, would be my estimate – not more. We stand a few feet away from the main crowd – slightly unsure, finding ourselves in a place we’ve never been before. A few minutes late we step closer, into the main circle of people who are calling out chants on microphones which the crowd is repeating. We are still silent… absorbing. I want to speak, I want to join their voices – but part of me feels that even adding my voice to the crowd is such an insignificant thing, what difference would it make.
There was a call from Alexandria they announced, and they held up the phone as the voices became louder as the crowd revved up to let the caller from Egypt know that people in another continent support their efforts. There was a brief moment of silence as candles were lit in memory of those who had died ‘not only in the last 13 days but also in the last 30 years’.
I finally managed to open my mouth and join into ‘we want democracy, we want peace’ – it is a strange feeling, I realize for all my occasional impassioned outbursts about the state of the world – I am no activist. It struck us how it must be to be for those in Tahrir square – for ordinary men and women who had never before raised their voices in protest in the streets, each of whom had overcome the restraints of daily life and personal concerns for safety and security to stand and protest like this in a much more hostile environment.
I also realized my disconnect, no matter how much I feel for the people in Egypt, and for what they are undergoing – it is not my country, it is not my home that is under threat – It is not as real for me as it is for them. I was cold – we walked away after an hour or so – or was it less? They were announcing that they had received a permit to camp overnight in front of the white house in protest of the oppression in Egypt.
I did not plan to be there, I did not even shout enough, I left so soon. I did not even think of camping overnight in front of White House on a freezing DC night. I am no activist. I had perhaps even started off as a skeptic – what could just standing and shouting achieve? – but I left as a believer – there is courage in each person who decides to brave the cold, the heat, the oppression – who decides to stand in solidarity. We are human, not everyone can do everything but we can all do a little bit. It may not be our own house, but we can stand with our neighbors, even if it’s only for a few minutes.
I did not plan to be there, we were lost due to my terrible navigation skills. But sometimes it is good to be lost, and to let the signs lead you – and perhaps to end up finding something you didn’t even know you were looking for.
Life takes on shape and meaning when a person is able to transcend the barriers of personal survival and become a unique conduit for its vital energy.
– Rosamund Zander
