The government had decided that as of yesterday, all journalists who wanted to enter Tahrir Square --- where all that wonderful colour and all those passionate voices are --- would need to register with the ministry for a pass. Up until that time, it had been somewhat random in whether the military would ask you for credentials. So off we went, clasping our photocopies and official letters from the paper.
The area outside the ministry, defended by a dozen or so tanks, is the same area where my colleague was beaten up a few days ago, as police and soldiers looked on. He was understandably a little spooked, but that day, the area was full of people, heading to work, selling cigarettes and drinks and of course, foreign journalists all clutching their papers.
As we entered the ministry, our passports were handed like a baton from one person to the next as they led us through a warren of rooms until finally, upstairs we were given a form to fill in. Names, addresses, media we work for, purpose of our visit and who we wanted to interview.
The women working in the press centre seemed remarkably efficient.
We asked them how long the pass would take and they told us a couple of days. "So we can't go to the square without it?"
No, they replied, but you can go anywhere else. That seemed a little illogical, but nevertheless, we decided we would try to get in to the square without the pass.
Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays are the "million man" days at Tharir and when we got there, again there were thousands of people queuing so patiently, just waiting to get in. We pushed our way down to the front, squeezed through the barbed wire, in between the tanks, many of them covered with graffiti, and without so much as a question from the military, we were inside. So much for the official bureaucracy that was supposed to make our lives much harder.
The atmosphere was even more electrifying than before, and much more organised. The night before the Google executive. Weal Ghonim, who had been detained several days ago, had been released and given an emotional interview on TV. His speech and possible presence that day galvanised the protesters -- people are talking about him as the voice of the revolution. Yet for many young people I spoke to, there was a sense that he alone could not be the opposition leader.
"This revolution is for all people, and we must have a leadership that is reflective of everyone's interests. Ghonim can talk for the young, and the elite, but there are Muslims and Christians and women and workers," said one rather erudite 17-year-old girl.
I spent a couple of hours wandering around, got caught up in a women's march, which had stunned the men who were frantically taking photos of them on their mobile phones.
What do you think of women taking part in this protest, I asked one guy, a mechanical engineering student at Cairo University. "Women have as many rights as men do," he told me, pointing out that his sister was also part of the protests. Again, he also told me. "This revolution is for everyone."
Every time I ask someone about women's participation and the role of women in the protests they tell me that women are not oppressed in Egypt. They are in control of their lives, can work, can drive, can say what they want. Yet, that very fact that their protest around the square that day drew so much attention from the men, makes me think that perhaps it is not quite as free as they make out.
I read somewhere that in the early days of the protests, women were told by female organisers to wear two layers of clothes, in case pro-Mubarak thugs tried to rip one layer off. When I put this to one woman, a well-educated saleswoman, she said "this is war, the vulnerable are always targeted. If the men are fighting, they too have to take precautions to protect themselves".
But the role of women is indeed something new. Previous protests have garnered about 10 percent female participation. These protests in Tahrir, I would say about 40 percent are women.
It's unclear what is happening with the movement now. The US seems to have backed away from demanding an immediate transition ... are they worried that Mubarak will refuse to go which could force them into taking action they do not want to take? Or are they just being pragmatic, they do not want to atagonise an ally in the vastly anti-US Middle East? There is also the issue of Israel, America's other ally in the region, with its powerful Jewish lobby. Mubarak has honoured his predecessor's peace deal with Israel, something the US s loathe to upset, while Israel fears a greater role for the Islamic Muslim Brotherhood.
These are oversimplified thoughts, I'm sure, but it's worrying to think that these people who are protesting with so much heart and strength -- last night they went to Parliament -- will lose everything in the coming months because of internal US politics.
Cassie
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