A few days ago, Mohamed Mahmoud, located adjacent to Tahrir Square, transformed from a street catering to Cairo’s bourgeoisie to a battlefield. On the fifth day of the renewed uprising, tear gas and Molotov cocktails are exchanged between the protesters and police forces.
Those who attended the American University in Cairo (AUC) or any school in the area between Tahrir and Bab al-Louk know Mohamed Mahmoud well. It’s a vivid street, full of cafes and restaurants, including Cilantro, McDonalds, Beano's, Pottery Café, Bon Appétit and many others. They are all there mainly to service the influx of American University students.
Many little businesses – like cigarette and hardware kiosks, a bookstore and stationary outlet, balady cafés, newspaper and old books stands, and even a pet shop – flourished on this street and branching ones. Most AUC and French schools students in the area spent valuable hours of their day walking from one campus to the other. They used these frequent walks to grab a quick bit before their next class or to chill with Sabah, the neighborhood’s famous street beggar.
On the fifth day of the uprising, the scene is different. As you approach the AUC main campus on Tahrir Square, you are welcomed by an unpleasant smell of urine and poop. Protesters have chosen this area as the public latrines. As you walk along the pretty gates of the old campus, protesters from Mohamed Mahmoud lounge out, resting from their 4 day battle. Some have little blankets and cushions.
Towards the end of the pavement, you face an assemblage of street children smoking cigarettes, collecting empty tear gas canisters and trying to climb the wall behind the Science Building to enter the campus. Shortly after you pass Hardees restaurant, you see a protester-formed human shield completely blocking the street to avert another clash. Only ambulances and medics are allowed inside. “If you go in, you’ll get plastered,” one of the human shields told me.
As I wait around to be allowed in, more yeast covered, blank faces emerge from the heart of the battlefield. Most look poor and weary. They are presumably street vendors, unemployed young men and street children.
“I was taken to the hospital an hour ago and came out and found that the fighting stopped briefly,” says Salah, a 25year-old civil engineer. According to the young “street fighter,” all the damage within the street was caused by hot flying canisters, which started many fires. “A canister this morning set fire to one of the balconies in front of the tall building [the AUC library],” says Salah. The canister set the AC on fire, and a fighter on the front lines climbed the building to extinguish it.
