Of the dozen or so books that have so far dealt with the Egyptian revolution, “Messages from Tahrir” is going to be one of the most enjoyably durable. A generation or so down the line, it may even turn into a collector's item. One reason is that it speaks directly to the soul, using a minimum of words. Karima Khalil, public health expert and amateur photographer, took to the square with a passion. She had missed the first few days of the revolution, which was perhaps lucky. For by the time she arrived in Cairo from a trip abroad, the square was already maturing into a state of mind, a blend of resolve and uncertainty that may be common on all battlefronts, but is rarely seen in the heart of a metropolis. It was Saturday 29 January when she first set her eyes on a new Egypt that phoenix-style was rising literally from the ashes. As she walked into Tahrir Square, she passed by charred vehicles, noticing in the distance a smoldering building with an ignominious past. In the corners of the square were make-shift emergency rooms, and in the middle, tents turned a small garden into a makeshift camp. But what caught her attention like nothing else were the signs the protestors were holding. Signs that said things about a place we'd never known, a proud Egypt, hurting and defiant. The signs were sarcastic, angry, funny and bitter. Karima came back to the square the following day with her camera, and she started recording the scene. She then checked Facebook, Flicker, and other sites for photos posted by people she knew and others she didn't. Once Mubarak stepped down, she started e-mailing the photographers to ask them if she could use their pictures in a book. Most graciously agreed, and she ended up with a treasure trove of 1,500 photos, only a few by professional photographers and the rest by amateurs. Of those she chose 150 pictures for her "Messages from Tahrir." The text is sparse, mostly translations of the captions and background notes about the people holding the signs. And yet, there is an unmistakable storyline in the well-paced layout designed by Amr al-Kafrawy, juxtaposing wit with tragedy, illustrating the intense emotions of the square, the grievances, frustration, and hope. This morning I gave the book to a friend to have a look. Ten minutes later, I had to ask him to hand it over. He had been in Tahrir Square and yet he wanted to relive the experience. “Some of these signs I never seen,” he said, relaxing his grip on the book with painful reluctance. Proceedings from Khalil's book will be donated to the Nadim Center for the Rehabilitation of Victims of Violence. Messages from Tahrir Karima Khalil (ed.) AUC Press, 2011
