‘They’re Acting Like Spoiled Children and Embarrassing Our Country’

CAIRO — The buzz of blow-dryers drowned out any talk of revolution at a popular salon in Zamalek, an upscale neighborhood on an island in Cairo that is home to some of Egypt’s wealthiest. The beauty boutique had been closed for days. But on the twelfth day of protests, it was back to business as usual.

Zamalek is located just across the river from Tahrir Square, the epicenter of one of the most significant fights for democracy in modern Arab history. Many say they have remained in their homes all week, but finally stepped out today in an attempt to regain normalcy.

"I miss driving home late at night. I miss Tamarai and Club 35," said one 22-year old woman, typing gingerly on her Blackberry to protect her fresh manicure. "I don’t think I’ll be able to go there anytime soon. I want my life back."

She says she’s been in her house all week "like a prisoner." She was part of the first demonstration on January 25, but said that protestors — thousands of whom remain in the square, which is taking on the air of a permanent encampment — have now taken it too far.

"People want change," she said. "Khalas, stop, we got change. Just let the man make a decent exit. The people in Tahrir should be ignored; they’re acting like spoiled children and embarrassing our country."

The woman and her mother sat on black leather chairs as a salon attendant carried away a tray of tea and espresso. For the past week, the 53-year-old has carried a new accessory in her purse: a 250,000-watt Taser. She’s hidden knives under every cushion in her home and her husband sleeps with a gun under his pillow. But today, she said, they wanted to enjoy a taste of their pre-January 25 lives.

"We thought of it like Lebanon, where people go out dancing after bombs," she said as blue and red curlers were pulled from her hair. On the floor below, women got Botox and laser hair removal treatments. "But we are all scared for our futures."

The woman and her husband own a travel agency in Giza, right next to the pyramids. "We are destroyed completely," she said, "We have 20 employees — how are we going to pay them?"

A few blocks away, the local Coffee Bean bubbled to the brim with customers by early afternoon. Café speakers projected a Britney Spears song and people poured onto the streets, turning the corner into a block party. They sipped lattes from their cardboard coffee cups.

The nearby restaurant Pub 28 had a one-hour wait for a table. Bottles of Heineken clinked with glasses of red wine while men sat smoking cigars. Outside, one 41 year-old woman waited for her driver.

"We’re doing horribly and we are depressed," she said. "Life has to go on. We were happy with the January 25th movement, but now it’s getting confusing." She and her friends had just come from the Gazira Club, Egypt’s oldest sports and social establishment.

After having lunch at Pub 28, a 24-year-old youth stopped by a nearby frozen-yogurt joint called "Maybe Two" — the first of its kind in Cairo — where 20 and 30-somethings gathered for Cairo’s version of Pinkberry. "That T-bone steak was delicious," he said.

Some gathered in his social circle were tired of the fight. "I am against the revolution because I need stability in my country," said a local screenwriter and TV host. Like others who supported the protests in the beginning, he says there’s a lack of focus and practicality.

His friend joked that he’s been "living like a gangster."

"I’ve been guarding my home every night," the friend said, wearing a shirt that read "Freedom Fighter." By the 7 p.m. government-imposed curfew, he would be on the street with a stick or a knife like hundreds of other residents who are protecting their homes and families in the absence of police.

"We can’t live like this. It’s become a City of God out here. It’s a nightmare," he said.

But others don’t want the protests to stop. "Even if we’re losing a lot now, it’ll get better," said one 28-year-old man. "The losses, the deaths, they will make Egypt better and help create a better life for our children."

People filed in to a nearby cell-phone shop to add credit to the their mobile phones. Many shops here have been closed all week.

At the counter stood Gameela Ismail, television personality and political contender in Egypt’s 2010 parliamentary elections. Her campaign posters still hang around Zamalek — reminders of her failed attempt to create change.

Ismail said she just showered for the first time in a week after spending most of her time in Tahrir Square.  "These new benefits don’t fall from the sky," she said, referring to the resignation Saturday of Gamal Mubarak, son of President Hosni Mubarak, from the leadership of Egypt’s ruling party.

"We’ve had 319 martyrs. It took so much to change just a little, so we have to keep pushing," she said. "No compromises."