The past couple of weeks I lived in my mind, emotions and being the revolution in Egypt.  After all I had lived in Cairo for over 3 years and studied at AUC.  Those were the great days - a young woman's awakening socially, politically and personally.  So it's hard to forgot the people, places and events that have impacted your life, especially at different stages of your development.  And Egypt was during one of those periods.  I discovered my love of theater, my artistic and creative side, my love of adventure, and most importantly I discovered the many facets of me, and that search to discover me still continues to this day.

I was there in the AUC Campus with my friends, during the riots of 1977.  It was there at Tahrir Square - AUC's original Campus.  We were attacked with molotof cocktails, stones, fire by the people on the streets. After all we, those who attended or had anything to do with the University, were "gavur" and the enemy.   It was in the afternoon, I remember doing the guerrilla crossing across the yard on our bellies between the trees and walls to get to safety.  There was no cell phones than, hell there was not even proper working telephone lines.  I had the car that day - parked outside and was hoping that it would not be damaged.  A small group of us managed to get out the back door on to the side street and escape the madness.   We lived nearby at Manial so our small group walked to our houses and safety.  That stress went on for a week. So my dear Egyptian friends, Malaks, Sherifs, Mahmoods, Maryams, I was with you everyday you were out in the streets of Cairo, in Meydan i Tahrir, shouting Etfah Mubarek!  I rejoice with you at your belief, perseverance and freedom.  I hope you will not give up this precious freedom this struggle to win back your lives and make your country, your life and your future your own and no interest groups.  

I just read that Libyan officials have shot a 7 year old.  Here is another struggle, callous dictator who is going to fight to the end not to give up his kingdom, after all he's been sitting on that throne since September 1, 1969.  I remember it like it was yesterday that day in Benghazi, Libya.  A child remembers trauma and that memory never fades.  it was the first day of school, my Dad was taking us down the main road to the American Community School, which was outside the city in the suburb where all the foreigners and oil company families lived.  Dad had preferred to rent an apartment in the city, which was fine with us. There were military jeeps tearing down the road driving like lunatics and shooting with their machine guns in the air, I could see Dad's face and his expression was of worry.  This was not normal.  We got to the school a bit harried for sure, and a group of students and parents were standing around at the doorstep and the school Principle was talking to them in an agitated manner.  We went up to the group, and that is when I saw his face, I will not forget it to this day - fear had engulfed him, so much so that his eyes had bulged, and his thinning reddish hair and his face were the same color.  A rather strange and unattractive face indeed!  He kept on saying go home, go home.  There is a curfew, a coup has taken place, the military has overthrown the King (King Idris for you youngsters out there).   At that time I was not sure what a coup was but I thought of the King whom I had met with his younger elegant wife a while ago.  He seemed so old and frail to my child's eye.  When we got back in the car my first question was "Daddy where did they throw the King and the Queen?  Are they hurt?  What is a coup?"  We learn quickly the meaning of things when faced with extraordinary situations especially those we are not prepared for.  

So for us kids it was a bit of an excitement, but for the adults it was a worrisome not to mention disruptive situation.  Keeping two young kids in an apartment for a week without going out is definitely a challenge, and so was the case for my brother and I.  The balcony became our Tower of Benghazi and we began to shout and tease the soldiers who were positioned at each building.  We quickly found that to be a dangerous activity when one of the soldiers' got mad and began shooting at us with his machine gun.  He probably thought of scaring us to stop-it did but we also almost got killed - the sound of those bullets passing by my brother's head and my nose will always be in my mind.  I was a pretty fearless child until then, that is when I really felt true fear, I was scared, very very scared.  We were 9 and 11, not much older than that 7 year old killed by the soldier today in Libya.  I mourn for her and all those who were killed by the despot and his thugs.  Kaddifi isn't it time to let go, you've been there for 42 years..a decade more than Mubarak..its a life time and some....May your struggle be swifter....
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