Part of a delegation from the National Endowment for the Arts, I was there to help promote a small program of international cultural exchange known as The Big Read Egypt.

In preparation for my visit, I read four books by the Egyptian writer and Nobel Laureate Naguib Mahfouz, a biography of Mahfouz, as well as two contemporary novels by Egyptian author Alaa Al Aswany. All these books pulsed with an undercurrent of discontent and seethed with resentment against class struggles and government corruption and oppression. They fantasized about unrealizable futures of prosperity and freedom, and foreshadowed broken dreams of better lives. They also drew wistful, reminiscent pictures of a vibrant, powerful culture that used to be free from autocratic rule, but which existed now only in literature and memory.

I could see such an Egypt, however, when I visited the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities, the pyramids at Giza, the Sphynx, the Library of Alexandria, the American University in Cairo, Wadi Hitan (the Valley of Whales), Khan Ali-Kalili – the open market in Cairo – a mosque, a Coptic church, the American embassy – and Tahrir Square.

But in quiet, guarded conversations with students, academics, professionals, shopkeepers, reporters, writers, and taxi drivers, there was talk of few opportunities despite their educations – or because of no education – of rampant poverty, of increased oppression of women, of having no say in their politics or their futures, of life in a police state. In the last three weeks, I’ve been thinking of all these people and been in touch with a few. They are today posting and Tweeting “Mabrouk!” (Congratulations!) to themselves, their friends, their fellow revolutionaries. Some of my Egyptian friends are no longer living in Egypt, but their hearts are there.

Mubarak has stepped aside, ceding power to the military, because Egypt’s revolutionaries risked their lives – more than 300 died – by stepping into Tahrir Square. The very act of civil disobedience was difficult and dangerous. But now the really hard part begins. The people risk losing this hard-won opportunity to shape their future.

They want democracy.
They want freedom.
They want justice.

The danger now is that they expect to have them all at once and immediately. In reality, all of this will take time, patience, and restraint. It seemed like 18 days was a long time to wait for Mubarak to bow to the growing multitudes. It wasn’t. Compared with the time it will take to form a new government, write a new constitution, elect a new parliament, swear a new judiciary – the removal of Mubarak was lightening fast.

Can a citizenry so impatient for their human rights and freedom be content to wait and get it right? We must also remember that a corrupt system works only if it has the necessary complement of conspirators. Those participants in the Mubarak regime who operated with an open palm on one hand and a truncheon in the other will not go quietly if at all. They will be circling the new Egyptian order waiting to see how they can game the new system and make it pay as well as the old one. Others will be looking for their own path to power.

Can thirty years of “emergency” dictatorial rule give way to checks and balances? There is much work to be done.

Soon, the international cameras will leave Tahrir Square. The euphoria of victory will evaporate and the vacuum will need to be filled. Will the world keep vigil over Egypt and help keep it on the path to a democratic government that best serves the people of Egypt?

The hope is that a people who formed a human chain to keep looters from destroying the treasures of its past, will form a new government to safeguard the treasure that is Egypt’s future.

Felicia Knight is President of Knight Vision International, LLC: www.KnightVisionInternational.com