CAIRO - Egyptians went to the polls Wednesday to choose their first freely elected president, hoping to recapture the promise of a popular uprising that defined the Arab Spring, end 15 chaotic months of military rule and perhaps shape the character of political Islam across the region.
In scenes unthinkable at any time in this country's vast history, millions of Egyptians waited patiently in long lines, often holding scraps of cardboard against the desert sun, debating with their neighbors which of the five leading contenders deserved their vote.
"It is like honey to my heart," said Mohamed Mustafa Seif, 36, an accountant voting in downtown Cairo. "For the first time in my life, I feel like I have a role to play. My vote could possibly make a difference."
After 15 months of street protests, economic crisis and rampant lawlessness, the novelty of an uncertain outcome seemed for a moment to revive the sense of momentum and hope. The military council that has governed since President Hosni Mubarak's ouster has pledged to step aside with the election of a president by the end of June, allowing Egyptians at last a chance to determine their own future after decades of authoritarian rule.
"Rise up, Egyptians!" declared the headline of the largest privately owned newspaper, Al Masry Al Youm. "Egypt of the revolution today chooses the first elected president of the 'Second Republic.'"
With a fluid and shifting field, no reliable polls and a likely runoff next month, handicapping the race was all but impossible. Two rival Islamists, two former ministers from the government of Mubarak and a Nasserite socialist were all in the running. But a central drama was the fierce rivalry between the Islamists -- Mohamed Morsi of the Muslim Brotherhood on the right, and Abel Moneim Aboul Fotouh, a more liberal former Brotherhood leader, to the left. The contest between the two holds consequences not only for the future of Egypt but also for the influence and legacy of the 84-year-old Islamist group.
Delighting in a role
But for the moment, Egyptians seemed to revel in the freedom to choose. Even opponents of the Islamist candidates cheered their inclusion, for the first time, in a democratic political process.
"It is amazing; all the factions are represented," said Rafik Yousseff, 52, an engineer and a Christian who said he planned to vote for Amr Moussa, a secular-minded former foreign minister.
There were scattered reports of trouble throughout the day. Ahmed Shafik, a former air force general and Mubarak's last prime minister now campaigning on a vow to restore public order, was hounded from a polling place by a mob of opponents hurling shoes and debris.
But for the most part, the vote was orderly and peaceful. The lines of people waiting hours to vote in the morning thinned in the afternoon heat and grew longer in the evening. Reports from rural districts indicated lines longer than in the big cities. In a news conference, the election authorities appeared in far better control of the process than during recent parliamentary elections; in one case, they quickly sent four buses to resolve a polling place mix-up in a small town of Upper Egypt.
At some polling places, riot police cheerfully posed for pictures. Army vehicles cruised the capital as soldiers with bullhorns urged all to vote.
"Despite the chaos and the wait, I am happy," said Salwa Abdel Moneim, 62, waving her blue-inked finger after she left a polling place in the middle-class neighborhood of Heliopolis.
She said she waited 2 1/2 hours before getting in to vote. "I feel like it is a dream coming true," she said, "and I hope that it lasts."
Feeling the burden
Yet, some said they felt the burden of the moment.
"This is our last chance to end this painful period in our lives," said Amgad Hussein, 43, waiting to vote on the island of Zamalek. "If we choose the wrong president, we will go in circles."
Others vowed that, like the revolution, their votes would resonate far beyond their borders. "Egypt will be the horse that will pull the whole Arab nation forward," said Mohamed Abdel Monsef, 32, a shopkeeper in the impoverished neighborhood of Imbaba.
The day was a cascade of scenes many Egyptians had never believed possible.
Gone were the days when Mubarak walked a red carpet to his special polling place to cast his ballot in predictable plebiscites. Instead, photographers and cameramen thronged to capture the five leading candidates voting just like everyone else -- entering polling stations, slipping their ballots into clear plastic boxes and then dipping their fingers into blue ink when they were done.
The first round of voting will continue Thursday, but to ensure that there is no tampering, the campaigns of both Islamists said that thousands of their observers would spend the night with the sealed boxes. If no candidate gets an outright majority, there will be runoff between the two top vote-getters.
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