“When I heard that the army was being attacked, I couldn't stop crying,” 42-year-old Saida Saleh, whose son is currently serving in the army, told me. Saida's younger son was watching the television when she arrived home from work late Sunday. Panic filled her heart and paralyzed her thoughts and she found herself on the floor screaming after watching the videos of the injured soldiers all over national television. “I just wanted to hear my son's voice; to know he's okay!” Saida told me with tears now filling her dark eyes. On the morning after the clashes, as reporters tried to make sense out of the horrific incident, and the families of victims mourned their lost love ones, Saida searched the newspapers for names of the killed army men that the television had mentioned the night before – hoping not to find her son's name. “I almost lost my sanity until I finally heard his voice,” she told me with relief, tears now running down her face, adding that her two sons are all she has in the world. Going back home from university after a long day, 21-year-old Radwa Saeed sat on the same metro car listening to her MP3 player. Radwa told me about her two older sisters and their very desperate and failed attempt to find jobs. Holders of Bachelor's degrees from Cairo University, one graduated in 2004 and the other in 2006. Both women have failed to find jobs in their field of study. Unable to support themselves, they both now live in their parents' house with Radwa, who's due to graduate this year, but is not optimistic about finding a job. “Whoever is in power is using the same tactics that Mubarak's government used for decades. Burning down churches … to create tension between the different groups to distract people from figuring out the big picture and instead focus on the details … yes, quite typical of the old regime,” Radwa said to me, adding that Muslims and Christians in Egypt have lived together in peace for generations and will continue to do so despite the “unspeakable efforts of some groups.” Leaning against her mother, chewing on gum, stood “out of town” girl Habiba who listened to her mom as she talked with another woman about an operation she has to get done. A woman selling head scarves walked through the aisle calling out – looking/hoping for potential buyers. 9-year-old Habiba grabbed one of the scarves and wrapped it around her and twirled in the aisle – struggling to keep her balance as the metro moved. “I'm not from around here,” Habiba later told me, adding that she goes to school in the south and that she really enjoys school. BM
