The demonstrations in Zamalek are passed. Everything is quiet. At the kiosk around the corner to buy cigarettes. There is only Marlboro, all other brands are already sold out, is due to the violence in Suez and Alexandria it supplies. Cigarettes, bread and water are affected than first one. In the kiosk, a bunch of Egyptians for the little TV has formed on the refrigerator that shows with a lot of noise generation and noise, the latest happenings in the Tahrir Square. Suddenly, noise, shouting slogans, chants. We look down the street towards the junction with the broad road of the 26th July. There is a train of demonstrators its way through the streets. We have everything and, start running, do not miss anything. The kiosk owner pulls Catherine, my roommate's arm. "Come on, come on with me," he cries and hurries down the alley towards the crowd.
The protesters are from Mohandisseen, on the Giza side of the Nile. The local rally in the Gamat-al-Duwal street was brutally dispersed by the police dispersed the participants. Some of them have made their way to downtown, they want to join the people in the Tahrir Square. Their path leads over Zamalek. I estimate their number at about two thousand. Growing, because every moment new ones are. From all the side streets of the island in the Nile flow people and join the march. At entry to the bridge of the 15th May, which leads over to the other side of the Nile, over to downtown, to the place of liberation, is already black "Riot Police" trellis, their visors down position, the shotguns at the ready. The shields flashing in the glow of lanterns. So far not a shot has been fired, not a stone was thrown. The train came to a halt in front of the driveway. I climbed onto the roof of a Land Rover to the heads across to see better. Between the young demonstrators in the front row and the police are still about 50 feet, about a stone's throw length. Ashraf, a young Egyptian holding me because of the large telephoto lens for a reporter. He shows me a video on his phone from him and his friend in the afternoon on the Ramsis Square. His friend points out to a still fuming gas grenade scribbles something in Arabic on it and throws it back into the ranks of the police. What he has written on it, I want to know. "Yakhrib beitak ya Mubarak" - God will destroy your house. I ask Ashraf, after which all waiting, why the protesters do not break through the lines of policemen, he looks at the clock.. It is the same time for the evening prayer "Only then it will go.
Under the ramp to the bridge there is a small mosque. From their speakers sounds the call to prayer. The people of Egypt set flags on the floor and pray. Mecca is located exactly in the direction of downtown, a coincidence? For a while everything is quiet. The Police officers do not pray, but dare not advance. The protesters to disrupt the prayer, which would, even for the otherwise ruthless state power too far. The calm before the storm.
The prayer is over, an old preacher holds up some incense sticks and shouting into his megaphone: Man is only responsible to God for his actions, do not respond to the system ... The people in the chorus of "Allahu Akbar - God is Bigger" . What are Germany, the infamous demo sound systems, rouse the masses, this is the prayer and preaching, I think. I run through some side streets to get some frontal pictures to get the prayer, my post with the camera between demonstrators and police. Click, click, a few pictures. Then hums the autofocus can not focus more suddenly. I wonder then know the reason: The crowd has set in motion comes straight at me. Led by the Sheikh with its incense. The first tear gas canisters bouncing next to me on the floor. I turn around and notice how the police has strengthened its ranks. It hails rubber shot. I move down the side of the bridge ramp, because once I fall on hard to the floor. A rubber bullet caught me on my knees and pulled his legs. Alhamdullah my camera survived the fall. My Knee is swollen blue, to the point of impact, the skin is split open, at my pants forms a blood stain. I limp into the side alley. Want to leave yet, were still waiting to see what happens next. I notice a young Egyptians with two Sakkara beer bottle in his hand. Strange, I think, alcohol at a demonstration here. Only now I see that the two bottles are only half full and that is in her neck a soaked handkerchief. The young protester discussed with his friend, at which point it is probably the most appropriate scoring position, from where you could take the best policeman. Meanwhile, the air is always stuffy, his eyes burn like hell already, it flying bricks and bottles. I decide that it is time to go. Thank God I live only about 100 yards around the corner.
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