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Egypt’s desperate regime is sending message of terror to the people: either Mubarak or the deep blue sea After six days of unprecedented protests, Hosni Mubarak and his regime still refuse to go . The fig leaf covering this regime has finally fallen, revealing the ugly naked truth. It is a regime that has worked solely and exclusively for its own survival. The events of the past days show that it is ready to burn the whole country if necessary. Friday 28 January will always be remembered as one of the worst days in Egypt’s history as protesters went in their thousands on to the streets across the country, calling for an end to the whole regime. Security forces lashed out against them more ruthlessly than ever before, using lethal weapons and so much teargas that many people inside neighbouring houses choked. They shot indiscriminately with rubber bullets and, some say, with live ammunition. By the afternoon security forces were no longer able to contain the rising tide of protesters. They suddenly withdrew from the scenes of protest leaving security for the army to take over. The following hours saw a complete absence of security on the Egyptian streets. Some buildings, including the National Democratic party headquarters in Cairo, were set alight. The fire department was nowhere to be seen and the fires everywhere were left to rage on as though it had been given orders not to budge. Mubarak did not speak to the people except late on Friday night after the security situation had already deteriorated. When he gave his statement he didn’t announce that he was stepping down as the protesters were insisting. Instead, he decided to form a new government with the same old figures. Mubarak gave no indication that he understood the message. Throughout Saturday protests continued everywhere. Demonstrators showed that they did not accept the offer made by Mubarak the night before. Nothing less than complete regime change would satisfy them. On Saturday morning, I went out to buy some essential foodstuffs. On the streets of Alexandria, no traffic police were anywhere to be seen. Some local young men volunteered to stand at important junctions to organise the traffic. I was really surprised at how orderly motorists were behaving. They followed the instructions of the volunteers and gave way to other motorists – something I haven’t often observed before. At Carrefour supermarket I could not use my Visa card because the internet was not working – just another side-effect of the total media blackout imposed in Egypt. In the early afternoon there were worrying reports of armed gangs and thugs roaming the streets of Alexandria, as elsewhere in the country, and attacking people in their homes. Through the loudspeaker of the local mosque, which had never before been used for anything other than the call for prayers, the imam began to urge the young men of the neighbourhood to go down to the streets to protect their homes and families. My friends in other areas reported the same. Were the imams perhaps tipped by the regime to make these calls in order to create a sense of insecurity and fear in people? Was it a ploy to keep all young men on the streets standing guard all night and too tired in the morning to join the demonstrations? Although difficult to ascertain now, such a scenario is not as far-fetched as it may seem. What is certain, however, is that the response to the imams’ invitations was instantaneous. A few men from my building and the adjacent ones went down carrying clubs and sticks to ward off any trespassers. A friend of mine called in total panic. “The waterworks have been hit,” she said. “The water supply will be cut off.” I ran to store some water. I already feel I am in a war zone. The landline phone didn’t stop ringing. Friends and family relayed the same message: gangs were attacking and terrorising people throughout the neighbourhood. I heard with horror that dangerous prisoners were released from prisons all over the country and were let loose on the streets. They carried various types of weapons and even automatic guns. Systematic and methodical looting and burning were reported throughout the country, carried out by thugs affiliated to the security forces of the ministry of interior. The popular committees formed to maintain peace and security arrested some of these thugs and discovered that they carried police identity cards. Many of them were what is called “secret police”. So this was the regime’s infernal security apparatus let loose on the people of Egypt. We locked our door as securely as we possibly could. We also pushed a chest of drawers against it as an extra precaution against a possible attack, although we realised that no wooden door and no chest of drawers would stand the attack of automatic guns. We locked the kitchen door to create another barrier in case they came through it. The young men standing guard in front of our building kept watch through the night. I heard gunshots in the distance, although it was difficult to make out whether they were fired by the thugs or the people of the neighbourhood. I felt my blood pressure rising by the minute and my palpitating heart going haywire. I stayed with my family cooped up in front of our television screen throughout the evening. We have no internet and text messaging has been disabled. We are virtually cut off from the rest of the world. My nephew has a start-up company in the field of IT that depends entirely on the internet. He is in total distress. “I am going bankrupt,” he says. So this is the regime’s message of terror to the people: either Mubarak or the deep blue sea. It is becoming clearer by the minute that the regime is fighting for its life and will do whatever it takes to enforce submission, either by cutting off all our means of communication or, if necessary, by stopping the air we breathe. Egypt has turned into a huge prison-house. I remember always George Orwell’s 1984 and Room 101 where dissidents are tortured into submissiveness. I feel that we are already in that room, with rats and unimaginable horrors attacking us. Will we end up crying out “We love you, Big Brother”? I doubt it. Egypt Middle East Protest Amira Nowaira guardian.co.uk