"Unrest had been in the air for a few years, but no one recognized the signs or the magnitude of what was about to unfold. Then on January 25, 2011, Egyptians took to the streets to express a rage that had been building up within them, maybe for decades. They’d had enough of the corrupt, oppressive, inert, dilapidated swamp they were living in. Next door, Tunisians had just rid their country of their president, Zine al-Abidine Ben Ali. On January 14, Ben Ali had fled to Saudi Arabia. Two weeks of protests had put an end to twenty-two years of despotic rule. Now, Egyptians were going after President Hosni Mubarak and his thirty-year rule. Every day, the protests and the rage grew. But so did the elation, as women with coiffed hair and designer bags or tightly wrapped veils and long manteaus, bearded sheikhs and teens in jeans and football jerseys, peasants in gallabiyas and businessmen in suits, all converged on Tahrir Square. They inhabited different planets, but they met as Egyptians for the first time and found one another on a square with a long history as a symbol of patriotism, dating back to British rule. Surrounded by grand buildings telling Egypt’s story, from the Egyptian Museum to the Arab League headquarters and the headquarters of Mubarak’s National Democratic Party, the somewhat shapeless square had several boulevards converging on it, a rare open space in the heart of Cairo, with a grassy roundabout in the middle, a perfect stage for Egypt’s bon enfant festival against tyranny. Ahmed drank it all up. He wasn’t sleeping. He felt alive, perhaps for the first time in his life. Tahrir means “liberation” in Arabic. Ahmed wanted the square to earn its name. Day after day, millions of Egyptians protested. “The people want the fall of the regime,” they chanted. There were violent clashes with the police. More than eight hundred people died. Mubarak promised some reforms, then promised he wouldn’t run again for president. It was no longer enough to send the protesters home. They were camped on Tahrir Square; the nights were tense. For courage and reinforcement, they painted the walls with verses and sang poetry."