Celebrated too early. Thought it was in the bag on Thursday night and watched as a tearful Egyptian dad said how proud he was of his people and especially his son, standing tall in Tahrir Square. Then, nothing. I felt like dragging the despot out myself.
Then yesterday, four o'clock our time, six there's. The amazing, incredible, news. Mubarak has gone. Strangely weird to see that we knew before the people in the square. We watched, fascinated on TV, as the rumours became fact and spread through the crowd, joy erupting like a volcano everyone said was sleeping.
It's been an incredible week, but not bloodless. People died for this cause, 300 of them, I guess mostly unarmed. I for one will not forget the image of a man hauling a dead body over the bridge, the skin scraping off a soul who no longer feels. It had to be a friend bringing the body back. Anyone else would have left him where he fell.
It was deeply heartbreaking and there were many others. Yet they won. Their numbers too great and their voices too loud to be ignored. Egyptians did this. They show that sometimes, in the direst, most deadly of circumstances, ordinary people can make a difference. As long as their own, in this case the army, do not turn against them. Proud? We all are.
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