Diary #47

1979-81

By the end of 1979, we left Sana’a for Kuwait and lived there for two years, during which time my sister Salma was born. My father joined the Institute for Arab Planning, where several Egyptian leftist exiles worked.

Uncomfortable with racism and life in Kuwait, he decided to cut short his contract, resigned, and went back to Egypt in the fall of 1981. Many of his friends at the time were either in jail or got transferred from their university jobs during the infamous September 1981 crackdowns on dissidents.

On 6 October 1981, my father took my one-year-old sister and me to watch the military parade marking the 1973 War in our neighborhood, Nasr City. We were not sitting in al-Manassa where Sadat and high-profile dignitaries were seated, but on the other side of the autostrade, where they erected two impromptu stages on both sides of the concrete Martyrs Pyramid.

The stage was almost empty, except for our family. Years later, my father told me that army trucks arrived before the start of the show, with the “crowd” (who were nothing but army conscripts in plainclothes), and all were chanting for Sadat.

These scenes I remember well. There was some noise, an explosion, and my father shouting to me, “Jump!” The stage was roughly a meter and a half higher than the ground. And as a four-year-old kid, I clung to the edge, trying to see if my legs could reach the ground. There was chaos; the “audience” was jumping off the stage, and some stepped on my fingers. I was screaming. My father grabbed me and helped me reach the ground while carrying my sister with his other hand.

We started running for our car parked in Youssef Abbas Street. My cousins were following us, and all were running, screaming, as shots kept being fired.

When we arrived home shortly after, my father rushed into the house and shouted to my mom: “I think they killed Sadat!” My mom answered while continuing to bake the Eid cookies, “Fi setteen dahia!” (Screw him!) My mom was no fan of Sadat. She had participated in the 1972-3 student revolt, was severely beaten up by the Central Security Forces, and always held Sadat personally responsible for the atrocities against the students.

Sadat was regarded as a traitor in my family. And a traitor he was. We did not mourn him. On the contrary, there were celebrations in our house, and millions of other Egyptians sighed in relief.